The Beach

I clung to the back of the motorbike driver as we sped through the jungled hills of Koh Phangan from Thong Sala Pier to the infamous village of Haad Rin. There I would catch a taxi boat over to Haad Tien--a small, secluded area of beach etched into a craggy cove.

October being the low point of the low season as well as all moon parties cancelled due to the King's recent death it felt like I had landed in a deserted, unreal paradise much like when I arrived in Otres back in July.

I've spent most of my life being mysteriously drawn to certain places in the world--some of them strange and obscure, some not so much. I'm drawn to these places for no particular reason other than maybe a mention in a book, an overheard conversation, an unlikely chance meeting. I hear the name of a place and without knowing too much about it I cling to it with a desperation that I must get there. Since I've left Ohio, this is how I've ended up in every place I've lived and traveled to. This how I've chosen all the places I've landed on this journey.

I knew I wanted to get to a beach before the school term started, but I had no idea where to start. There are an overwhelming number of Thai islands and beaches to choose from. All of them each with a plethora of reasons to choose one over another with just as many reasons to stay as far from them all as possible. This made the decision process a nightmare. Something I'm incredibly bad at anyway.

I tend to go by way of mystical signs, a faulty intuition system, and taking the advice of fictional characters. What would Malcolm Reynolds do? What would Yoda do? This isn't the best method when, say, trying to manage a business or making responsible life decisions (though it has worked for me so far), but can be a lot of fun when trying to decide which Thai island to choose. Where would Richard from the Beach go? If you know anything about the story of the Beach, you'll know what a silly, impractical question that is. Not to mention dangerous.

My answer came from a You Tube suggestion. I had been attempting to look up interviews with Alex Garland (there are none that have anything to do with his books, by the way). I suppose that's how it came up. A group of folks decided to retrace Richard's steps from the book to find the island where the Beach is located, and they made a documentary of their journey.

Did they find it? Yes and no. They concluded that the beach isn't specific place, but a mashup of many places. Part of their trip led them to Haad Tien on Koh Phangan, and I immediately knew that was my island, that was my beach.

The community of people they found living on Haad Tien was the closest thing they found to the community of people in the book. The National Park and forbidden islands where the book actually takes place was the closest thing they found to it geographically--the walled in lagoon on one island, completely deserted beaches and jungles on others.

Haad Tien and it's even lesser known and more secluded neighbor Why Nam are full of healers and mystics, yogis and artists, travelers and expats. Some on a mission to heal and some on a mission to vanish, and some, like me, on a mission to find magic.

You can only reach Haad Tien by finding someone to take you by taxi boat or a crazy 2 hour trek through the jungle. And getting back to Haad Rin...you just got to wait on someone with a boat who happens to be heading that way. I missed what I thought was the only boat leaving for Haad Rin the day I left, and of course, I began to think it was a sign.

I sat on the beach all packed and ready to head back to my life in Chiang Mai when I was struck with a urge to just not. I could simply melt into life on Koh Phangan and vanish. About that time another boat appeared. Sign. I spent the night in Thong Sala near the pier where I would be catching a ferry back to the mainland the next morning when I decided that maybe I would eventually make it back down here and stay. I immediately started researching schools around the island. Life twists and turns in the most magical ways. Stay tuned folks. Let's see where life in 2017 leads.

Have you ever been so mysteriously and mystically drawn to a place you had to get there without really understanding why? Tell me about your experiences. Did it become clear why you were led to a specific place once you were there? What did you learn? How did it change you?  

The Blurred Edges of Reality

It's late. I look out my window with its old time-y swinging shutters. I gaze over a narrow street lined with windows just like mine--guesthouses and hostels fill the top floors, small taverns, live music, and galleries of all types on the bottom.

It's like I'm in the old west, but I'm not. I'm on Love Lane in the heart of Georgetown on the island of Penang, Malaysia. Love Lane--depending on who you ask--was at one time either a street full of brothels turned guesthouses, or it was where all the sailors met their lovers when they sailed into Penang port. Possibly these were one in the same. Possibly this place only exists when one is here to witness it.

Bree and I walk a few blocks away from Love Lane, and we are in an area of the city that immediately transports me back to India--the smells, the sounds, the colors, the shops, the food, the people. In every direction, I'm back in India. But I'm not. I'm in the heart of Georgetown on the island of Penang, Malaysia. From colonial old west to India in a matter of blocks.

After a long day at the Thai Embassy getting our work visas processed, the taxi driver drops us off at a mall. Or what looks like a mall. It isn't. It's a time portal into the future complete with a science and technology dome, an observatory, a dinosaur exhibit/museum where kids can ride the dinosaurs, an herb garden, a restaurant where everything is made with or covered in chocolate, and apparently a pot of gold on the roof that we couldn't figure out how to access.

We spend hours and hours exploring, playing, and experimenting in the science and tech dome. Bree does a virtual autopsy on a corpse. I get strapped into a multi-axis chair and pretend I'm Ellie Arroway headed for Contact. They give us a private tour of the observatory. I nearly explode with excitement.

When we finally leave and step back into the city, we are zapped from the future to present time, and as we inch closer back to the old town, to Love Lane, we once again slip into the past.

Seventy-two hours after we arrive on Penang, we head back to Thailand. We land in Kuala Lumpur for an overnight layover, but something feels off. Everything about this airport is strange and different. I have been to this airport more than any other airport. I know this airport. But there are things out of place, structures are different--the escalator, the layout of coffee shops, little things.

Of course, there is always the Murakami factor. Like in 1Q84 when Aomame climbs down the side of the highway construction zone and ends up in a slightly altered reality. But I'm not currently reading Murakami. I'm reading Alex Garland. A book called the Coma where a man in a coma attempts to reconstruct his faulty, shifting landscape of memories so to wake himself up. It kind of feels like that. In fact, the past 72 hours has had a dreamlike, hallucinatory quality to it--slipping between time periods and cultures and places, shifting landscapes of memory, blurring edges of reality.

In two days time, I leave for the Thai island of Koh Phangan in the Gulf of Thailand where I will spend the week leading up to my birthday, leading up to the new school term. And if you are familiar with Alex Garland's books, you might know where I'm going with this. Things could get a lot more dreamlike, a lot more hallucinatory, a lot stranger.

Let's continue down this path. Let's see where it leads.

Have you ever experienced an ordinary, mundane period of life that felt inexplicably more dreamlike than real? Tell me your stories! What do you think triggered it? What snapped you back?

The Queen Bee of Weird and Other Side Effects of Novel Writing

I sit half asleep in the back of the class. The teacher steps out of the room for just a moment, but in that moment, the class goes nuts. A girl squiggles by me on her belly.

"I betcha wanna know what I'm doing?" she says.

"I sure do," I say.

"I'm being strange and crazy," she says.

The teacher walks back into the room and everyone calms down by maybe one degree. The girl stands up, and as she passes me on her way back to her seat, she says, "I'm the Queen Bee of Weird."

This is my new life here in Chiang Mai, Thailand. In less than a month, these third graders will be all mine. How did I get here?

How did I get here? I followed my curiosity here. Over the past 9 months, I've explored ashram life, mountain life, city life, beach bum life, and island life across 4 countries and over a dozen villages and cities, and now here in this new country, this new city, I'll explore a more grounded life teaching at an elementary school.

And, of course, as soon as I arrived in Chiang Mai, the most curious thing happened--I began to see the side effects of being so focused on novel writing these past several months. For example, one of my main characters teaches astronomy, and the book starts when he is in 3rd grade. So, when I am asked to teach a demo to a 3rd grade class, I teach an astronomy lesson on the planets.

As magic is weaved through my story, magic is also weaved into my life here.

Within my first week, everything fell into place like an easy game of tetras--my job, my apartment, my niches--the markets, the bookshops, the yoga studios, the writing community, all the amazing people who have whisked me around this city or have given me the best advice. Life before traveling was rarely this easy.

Since stepping onto that airplane in San Francisco, I've opened up and tapped into something vast and magical. Always letting go, always allowing, always understanding I was never not meant to be here. Mountains and the Mekong to the north, Bangkok and beaches to the south. So much to explore in-between teaching and editing.

After 9 months of travel, I am settled here--my job and apartment to seal the deal on this grounded life I've come full circle to find on the other side of the world. Maybe I'll be off again in six months time or maybe I'll stay and linger longer. But here in this present moment, I'll embrace this magical, nomadic life I've co-created with the Universe.

Circle the point in your life at this moment and think: How did I get here? How did you get here? Did you open up to allowing? Did you let go? Or are you still hanging on too tight to those things that no longer serve you?

You guys! Magic lurks! Chiang Mai is completely surrounded by a moat because dragons, obviously. And I wouldn't doubt there are faeries and aliens and goddesses lurking here too.  

The Seasons of Yin and Yang

To say Amed is a sleepy fishing village might be an understatement. A stillness and calm permeates this short stretch of land along the east coast of Bali--encapsulating it and folding into every aspect of it. Cut off from the rest of Bali by Mount Agung, the largest volcano on the island, Amed sits between fire and water, living in a state of perpetual equilibrium.

My first six months of travel were very active, very yang, very external. I saw a lot, I did a lot, I met a lot of people. At the six month mark, it all came to an abrupt halt when I landed in Otres Beach, Cambodia. Life suddenly became very still, very yin, very introspective. Not to mention I became very productive on my manuscript which I have savored and loved.

Things will be changing again very soon. If all goes smoothly, I will be planting myself in Chiang Mai, Thailand for the next six months teaching, living, and writing--where I will hopefully find my tribe of writers and yogis and miracles workers.

Perhaps these past three months are the the calm before the storm. Or maybe I'm sitting in the eye of a hurricane about to hit the other wall. I don't mean a chaotic, destructive storm or hurricane--just a more active and involved-in-things-around-me kind of life. And as I move into this more active, yang state of being, I will hang on to some of this yin where I'm able to stand still and see clearly as life swirls around me--so to be able to maneuver my way around all the flying cows and trees if they happen to be heading right toward me. Maybe I'm thinking of tornadoes. But you get the idea. 

Today I will linger in this incredible hidden Balinese gem called Amed before I begin to slowly transition to an altogether different reality.

Does your life move through seasons of yin and yang, of stillness and motion? How do you handle the transition?

The Logical Song (or the Art of Divine Timing)

I attempted to go to a yoga class a few days ago. I had been here in Amed for almost a week--it was time. When I arrived at the studio, I found the class had been cancelled because a group on retreat was using the space. And since I was already there, the group invited me to join them for their class. Great!

Turns out this retreat group was from Spain, and on that particular night, it was a Vipassana inspired meditation class. I stayed because why not. During the introduction, which was entirely in Spanish, the group leader whipped out a selfie-stick and began to wave it about wildly as he spoke. I have no idea what he was saying, but the group looked a little terrified. He then briefed me in English that the meditation would be approximately 45 minutes, and he would clap 3 times to indicate the end. He did not wave the selfie-stick at me.

About 10 minutes into the meditation, I felt a solid bop on the head and my eyes flew open. The leader was walking around bopping folks on the head with his selfie-stick. He made his rounds every 10 minutes or so--in order to bring us back to the present moment, he later told us.

Later that evening back at my bungalow, something happened. I opened my manuscript file and a few aspects of the story I had been struggling with miraculously began to fall into place. Most surprising was a new character--someone who simply did not exist until that moment. From a blank space, he appeared tying a big sloppy bow on my story. This was not the first time this has happened. Let me rewind.

About 5 or 6 years ago, I was driving home from somewhere when a CD fell out of my car sun visor and hit me in the head. I'd never seen it before nor did I have a clue where it came from. I popped it into my CD player and proceeded to drive around my block several times listening to the first song on repeat: The Logical Song. Something was happening.

As soon as I parked, I flew into my house and began writing. Four characters introduced themselves to me and begged me to tell their story. Well, what is your story? I asked. They took their time telling me in bits and pieces over the next few years. Then one day I stopped writing. For about 2 years or so, each time I would open this manuscript, I would stare at it and cry. It was a mess. It made no sense to me at all. In retrospect, a complete reflection of what my life had become.

About a month after I left California, I was able to start wrapping my mind around the story in a new way, but it wasn't until I was in Cambodia that I really began to focus and restructure it. But there were problems. Yes, life is messy and sometimes does not make sense, but I am not Murakami--I cannot get away with leading you down surreal paths of strange and leave you dangling there.

And then the selfie-stick bop on the head. And then the new character. And the realization that my four original characters never left me. More often times than not I hear stories of people who put a manuscript to the side for various reasons, and when they go back to revisit it, the inspiration is gone. 

This did not happen to me. My characters stuck with me through it all. They chose me to tell their story and didn't abandon me. I am incredibly grateful and honored. I have no idea if this story will even make sense to anyone else. But I love this story. I love these characters. They are not always the most likable, but they are mine.

Divine timing has always played a huge part of my life. For reasons I can only speculate, I don't think this story was meant to be told until now. I don't think I was mentally ready to tell this story until now.

We wake up each day and can see the world as logical or illogical as we please. We have the power to change our perception. We have the power to invent our universe. We are made of star stuff! It doesn't get much more miraculous or magical or beautiful than that. Why in the world would we let anyone convince us otherwise?

The Logical Song still fits (and in my mind, will always be entwined with this story and these characters). The Vipassana class congealed it. Here in this small stretch of Balinese fishing villages called Amed, I found a stillness that allowed this story to continue unfolding.

Do you feel divine timing has played a role in your life? Have you ever felt like something was withheld from you until the perfect moment? I want to hear your stories!

And what about creative projects? Do you feel divine timing has played a roll when it comes to them as well?

A Day in the Life of an Extreme Beach Bum

Amidst all this beach bumming and joy not much happens. To be a professional beach bum, you must be committed to living a life that requires very little of you. And when you live in a world where so very little happens, there will inevitably be bursts of utter insanity because, you know, balance.

I.

The last thing you want to hear after handing over your passport to the Indonesian immigration office in order to extend your visa is: I'm sorry, but there appears to be a problem with your passport. What kind of problem? According to our system, you have overstayed your visa by 45 days. Obviously I didn't. I've only been here 3 weeks, I told the lady. It must be a glitch, she said. Bring me proof you're leaving the country, and I'll see what I can do about it. This is not comforting information coming from an official office of a country that does things by less than official standards.

She gave me directions to an internet cafe where I could print out my flight itinerary. I did not find the internet cafe. Instead, I found myself down a sketchy looking alleyway full of hole-in-the-wall businesses that make you guess at what exactly their business might be. I eventually found a computer shop with a printer, and stood by watching a guy tinker with two different laptops, attempting to make the printer work with one of them. It did, eventually.

After handing over my proof of leaving, the lady smiled at me in a warm-hearted way and said, Call next week to see if the glitch has cleared. Then tossed my passport into a drawer.

II.

Sometimes the Universe thinks I need to have certain experiences and sets about to make sure these experiences happen because I'm typically not one to seek out danger and crazy at my own will. In this case, the Universe decided to prove to me that I indeed would not survive an underwater life and death situation or the apocalypse. 

I learned this by way of a crash course in scuba diving that was set up for me by my very kind bungalow neighbor I had met two days before. He seemed incredibly disconcerted that I'd never gone diving after having been in the Gilis for almost a month. We need to fix this, he'd said. 

The crash course took place in a swimming pool where you learn underwater communication (I'm okay! I need to surface now! There's a big shark heading right toward us!) as well as how to handle emergencies such as losing your oxygen supply and/or having your mask completely fill with water--perhaps by being kicked in the face by a fellow diver. Apparently these things happen.

I failed miserably at this. I failed so miserably I'm shocked they let me go on the actual dive--which, by the way, went well enough even though I couldn't properly hear out of my right ear for a week afterwards. Once we surfaced and were back on the boat, the instructor gave me a high-five. For what, I'm not sure. Surviving? For someone who panics so easily you hardly used any oxygen at all, he told me. Thanks...? I'll take it as a compliment. Jedi skills.

III.

Turns out the phone number to the immigration office is perpetually busy. After two days of trying to get through, I took my chances and headed back to Lombok hoping to push things along in person. I was leaving Gili Air in less than a week. I needed my passport back.

It was a very long day--waiting for the glitch to clear, visa fees, finger prints, and finally getting my passport back about fifteen minutes before the office closed. A friend back in Santa Cruz once told me I had the patience of a monk. Perhaps. My driver on the other hand, turns out, did not have the patience of a monk--though he kind of looked like one. 

Perhaps he was concerned about me catching a boat back to my island--the last public boat headed to the gilis left at 5pm. Perhaps he was in a mad dash to get back home for personal reasons. Whatever his reason, he drove like a madman in ways I have not experienced in my 8 months of travel. He ran a motorbike off the road.

It didn't take long before we were surrounded by several cars and motorbikes forcing us to pull over. These other drivers were yelling at my driver frantically, and he was yelling back. I expected the stone throwing to commence any moment. The shouting match continued until my driver turned the car around and went back to the motorbike he sideswiped, apologized, and handed over a wad of cash. Because this is how accidents are handled here. 

This incident did not slow down his game. It only made him chain smoke. You guys, I was seriously scared for my life. We finally made it back to the harbor alive, and I paid him the amount we agreed on at the start of the day. This agitated him. Turns out, he wanted me to pay for the accident--reimburse him for the cash he gave the motorbike driver! I kindly reminded him that I was not the one driving. He cursed me as I got out of the car. You! He shouted. No good! Right.

It was late. I ended up hitching a ride on a supply boat back to Gili Air--our bright yellow star crossing over the edge of the blue horizon as we crossed the sea over to safety--back to my tiny island, back to my hammock and my books and my manuscript, back to my beach bumming ways--where the world is worlds away.

This post does not lend itself to philosophical musings. This post likes its status as a rip in the space-time continuum of extreme beach bumming. Discuss.

I cannot believe my time is up here on Gili Air! I've been here for 5 (mostly) blissful weeks. Tomorrow morning I will hop on a boat for the tiny fishing village of Amed on the east coast of Bali for my last 3 weeks in Indonesia. Let's hope all the bliss and joy crosses over as well. 

Ripples of Joy

Late afternoon sun through the palms and red hibiscus flowered plants that wall my palo santo scented bungalow. Wet laundry flapping in the light breeze--sundresses and sarongs, my 'I Love Goa' beach towel, like I need reminded. Sun-kissed skin, coral cut feet, hammock folds. Banana pancakes and coconut everything. Yoga sunrises, salty, sandy skin, reading books and writing for hours. Ocean, jungle, volcanoes. Indonesia. Home.

Lately, I've been spending a good chunk of time lounging in my hammock listening to the new season of Magic Lessons (amazing timing) as well as bunches of Dire Straits/Mark Knopfler recordings (random, yet awesome rediscovery).

On low tide afternoons, I find a sunny spot on the beach and read Anthony Doerr and Margaret Atwood--books I'd never even considered before now. And like the magic lessons and music, they mysteriously presented themselves to me in such a way I had no choice but to indulge in them.

Every morning, I follow the sandy path from my cottage down to the ocean side cafe where I drink coffee and write. I stare off beyond the cafe at the boats bobbing along the edge of the beach, at people fumbling around in the coral filled waters, at the mountainous terrain of Lombok across the strait, at the erupting Mt. Rinjani--looking for any sign that it is indeed erupting.

I island hop to the other gilis with no other reason than to walk their perimeters and take pictures. On my first hop over to Gili Meno, I realized that these islands that look so close together, close enough to swim between are, in fact, much further apart when you're out on the open ocean traveling between them.

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As random as each of these things are, I've been doing them simply because they bring me joy in this time and place. And when you are filled with joy it tends to have a ripple effect on the world around you. Like skipping stones of joy into the Universe. It has the power to change everything.

Do you pay attention to the things in your life that bring you joy? Do you notice if your joy causes a ripple effect on your world and the people around you? Tell me about your joy and what it does!