Category Archives: reflection

Book response 4 “voices from s-21” by David Chandler


“Voices from S-21: Terror and History in Pol Pot’s Secret Prison” by David Chandler was an academic and disturbing look into one of the most grotesque institutions of this century, on par with other similar institutions: the Holocaust concentration camps, the Russian Show Trials and the “reeducation campaigns” in the ’40s in China. Covering the history and discovery of the prison, Chandler takes us deep into the bowels of this former high school in Phnom Penh, introducing us to the creators, guards, torturers, prisoners, and survivors. Run by former schoolteachers, S-21, otherwise known as santebal (“a Khmer compound term that combined the words santisuk (security) and nokorbal (police)” (Chandler 3)) was an interrogation and torture facility where men, women, and children were locked up, starved, beaten, pitted against one another, and eventually executed in the killing field behind what was formerly the primary school also situated on the high school grounds. The people who worked at the prison were generally young men from lower class income brackets. Chandler draws a parallel with Mao’s China–the heads of the Khmer Rouge and of S-21 preferred workers with little education: “in Mao’s phrase, ‘poor and blank’ to those corrupted by capitalism or extensive schooling (Chandler 32).” The prison’s maximum number was around 1,500 prisoners at one time, with a varying number being taken for interrogation and others taken directly to the killing field for execution.

The prison had a strict regimen of documentation. When prisoners were brought through the gates, pictures were taken, names, ages, and places of birth written down, and prisoners went through extensive questioning before they were finally placed in cells ranging from solitary (for the most important prisoners) to small cells crowded with upwards of 25 people. People were brought to santebal for a multitude of reasons: someone had named them in a confession, they had been picked up for suspicious behavior in zones throughout the country, or because they were suspected as being enemies and against the “Organization.” There were also many cases of prisoners brought in without any real explanation or reason. When two Vietnamese photojournalists first discovered the prison on January 8, 1979 they found rooms stacked to the brim with documentation about the prison itself, the workers, the guards, the prisoners, and the executions. They found recently dead bodies and blood on the ground, and hastily emptied rooms. In the documents found, and others later handed over to the Cambodian Genocide Program (headed by Yale), extensive notes were taken down during each interrogation session. Why was it that such lengthy reports were kept long after the prisoners’ executions? Chandler talks at length through several chapters about the reasons the operators of S-21 might have had for keeping such meticulous documentation of its torture facility. Ultimately, documents are still being discovered and extensive research and psychological work continues to be done. In the documents discovered were extensive examples and descriptions of the torture techniques used in the prison. Examples of such are beatings (stick, hand, electrical wire), burning, water tortures, being jabbed with a needle, paying homage to different parts of the room, and suffocation with a plastic bag, among others. Not only did the workers at S-21 explain these torture methods, they also took hundreds of photographs of the mutilated bodies (before and after death).

Out of the 14,000+ men, women, and children held at santebal throughout its three years of operations, a mere twelve individuals managed to escape. Only seven of them have come forward with their story. After the prison was discovered in early January of 1979, the Vietnamese hurriedly put the place back together into a makeshift museum that started seeing visitors as early as March of the same year. A survivor of S-21, Ung Pech, was the director of the prison when it reopened (as a museum) in 1980. If one were to visit the prison today they would see mugshots enlarged on the walls, cells filled with the torture devices found in the prison, the killing field displaying thousands of skulls, and stacks and stacks of documentation. They would also be able to read memories from the few survivors of the prison.

Chandler’s book brings the reader a very detailed, descriptive look behind the walls of S-21. As I read through his reports of the prison and his documentation, I was taken aback again and again by the intense amount of cruelty the Khmer Rouge had and displayed for their own people. I find myself wondering about the possibility of this kind of behavior in the world today. Throughout the text Chandler makes connections between various other torture facilities and genocides across the globe and throughout history. For me, perhaps because I spent a short amount of time in Cambodia and because I have read two first hand accounts of the war there, it strikes me as much more real and immediate than others I have heard or read about. Only in 2006 was Duch, the head of S-21, captured, tried, and put in prison. Only a few days ago the trial for Brother Number Two (among other higher ups in the Khmer Rouge) began in Phnom Penh. This “history” of war and torture is very much a part of Cambodian’s lives and should be more recognized throughout the world. Where Luong Ung’s book “First They Killed My Father” brought me into the body and experience of a young girl who underwent the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge and survived to tell her story, David Chandler’s book got down to the nitty gritty of the reality, reasoning and creation of a hellhole such as santebal. Having the balance between a memoir and a non-fiction academic look at the regime and prison helped me take my first steps in understanding this time of unrest and genocide in Cambodia. Reading (in Chandler’s book) about the psychology behind those who created a place of such extreme pain and death was very interesting and leaves me wanting to keep learning and discovering as much as I can about this time in very recent history.

A lot of my current readings on Cambodia remind me of other extreme oppressive forces in the Buddhist countries of Tibet and Burma. In a book I just recently finished, “When Broken Glass Floats” by Chanrithy Him, also about the Khmer Rouge, I noticed a few references to praying to Buddha to save them from all the death and destruction they were dealing with. The main character, Chanrithy, often says that Cambodia was once a very Buddhist country, but that the people felt like Buddha had abandoned them with the installment of the Khmer Rouge. In Tibet and Burma, you see massive amounts of peaceful protest happening not only by the common people, but by Buddhist monks as well. Buddhism and the Dalai Lama preach non-violence and yet the heads of all three of these countries (Tibet/China, Burma, and Cambodia) have inflicted upon their people decades of oppressive, militant destruction. It is interesting, and mystifying to me, that these countries still consider themselves Buddhist, for it seems to me, how they go about responding to the problems in their countries, is anything but Buddhist. I suppose you see this extreme in other religions as well though: with Islamic fundamentalists and Christians too. What people will do in the name of their religion astounds me. And yet, the Khmer Rouge wasn’t Buddhist, even though the people it killed and destroyed were. The whole situation leaves much to contemplate, and like I said earlier, I look forward to reading more on these subjects and increasing my awareness.


Book response 3 “Taking the Leap”


Haley Kemper
Book response #3
29 November 2011

“Taking the Leap” by Pema Chodron was a book with a short but deep message about breaking free from the habits that guide our every action, and reaction. Chodron opens her book with a comparison between our hearts and that of two wolves: the mean, negative wolf and the wolf of loving kidness. She tells us that it is entirely up to us to decide which wolf to feed. When we are having a particularly hard time, perhaps we just broke our computer, or found out we got scammed in something, our natural response, our natural habit is to then nourish that anger and/or sadness with more of the same emotion. We may lash out at friends and loved ones, or do ourselves bodily harm, simply because this is what has been bred into us for so long. Human beings have been programmed to react in certain ways to the joys and obstacles that they face. When we find out we got an ‘A’ on a paper we want to go out and celebrate, but when we get an ‘F’ we want to mope around, blame ourselves or someone else, etc. Pema Chodron uses this book as a jumping off point for how to break out of these habits.

Chodron asks us to each look deeply within ourselves and beome more in touch with three natural states: natural openness, natural warmness and natural intelligence. We all have the ability to interrupt old habits, like snapping at a family member when we are angry about something, it is simply up to us to stop and recognize what we are doing or are about to do and take a moment to realie that we don’t HAVE to react that way. We all know how great it feels to treat someone kindly, to reach out to them and do something nice for them, and we can acknowledge that they have the ability to do the same. Now, if we think like this, we should also be aware that each and every person has the ability to react negatively, to yell, or be rude, just like we do! But like us, they also are able to break free of those habits. Most of us have gotten so good at feeding into our negative habits (we always react the same way when someone puts us down for example) that the nasty wolf within us is constantly being fuelded, but the positive wolf is simply sitting there waiting to be fed. Pema Chodron asks us to try and be more in touch with how we react. To take a step back and look at how we would LIKE to react and then decide what the best measure is to respond with. If we are able to take three deep breaths before we yell back at soeone who is yelling at us, perhaps then we will be able to look at the situation and instead of feeding that mean wolf, instead feed the other, and respond to that person with understanding and loving kindness.

Chodron does not say that all of this will be easy. She admits that it is a very very difficult process that has taken her decades and that she continually works on! Even if we are able to step back and change our way of response ONCE in a day, she encourages us to be content with that, for it is the breaking of a habit nonetheless.

Throughout the text Chodron also discusses impermanence as a basis for understanding ourselves. Nothing is permanent on this earth, not the trees in the forest, the computer we sit at, or our emotions/thoughts/responses to our environments. If you know someone very well, like a brother or sister, you will know when they aren’t feeling well by the changes in their attitude. The same goes for ourselves. One minute we are happy, the next we are upset. We change constantly and ALWAYS have the ability to catch ourselves before we do or say something that we will regret or will make us feel upset, guilty, angry, etc.

A concept that Pema uses in the book is one taught to her by her Tibetan teacher. It is that of shenpa, or the concept of getting ‘hooked’ by something. She uses the example of when someone says something mean about us. We are hooked by their words and get all worked up. We have feelings of anger, hurt, and sadness and we are of the habit of lashing back out at that person or responding negatively. Shenpa is that which keeps us in the cycle of our old habits…and we must learn to break free. Shenpa is the charge behind emotions, it is pre-emotion. When words are fueled by or triggered by shenpa they (often) turn into negative, hate words. Pema says that the only way to get rid of shenpa is to first learn to be with it. To sit and acknowledge that you have been “hooked”. To take a few short minutes to breathe and get to the root of your anger, sadness or other emotion. Only by understanding where these feelings of shenpa come from, will we then be able to set them aside, move past them. She gives us three steps for breaking free of shenpa and of our habits. Step one is awknowledging our feelings/emotions. Step two is taking three breaths and looking at these feelings. Just BEING with them. Step three then is to move past them, to choose a different reaction to the shenpa. To realize that they really aren’t that important, that there are much more important things in your life to put your energies towards. Simply move these emotions aside once you have accepted that they exist.

For me, reading this book came at the perfect time as I am starting to look back at my trip and work this quater and prepare to write my self evaluation. I think there was a lot of shenpa in me and in my work, mostly concerning my traveling with Kyle. Before I even read this book, I took it upon myself to practice patience and understanding, which in a way, is part of the three steps that Chodron put forth in her book. While I would occasionaly break from habit in my responses to him, for the most part shenpa ruled, as did my habits. So I broke off and traveled on my own and now after reading this book have a much better idea of what it was (and still is) within me that drove me to act around him the way I did. Giving words to the way we feel, and finding ways to deal with our emotions (both negative and positive) is always empowering…to know that there are others out there that experience the same feelings as we do, and that there are ways to end the kinds of behaviour we do not appreciate within ourselves.

“First They Killed My Father”


Haley Kemper
Book Response Two

I have just finished reading ‘First They Killed My Father’ by Loung Ung and tears are streaming down my face. I set out into Cambodia exactly one week ago in the hopes of experiencing the vast Angkor Temple complex and to get a small taste of Cambodia and its people. In the taxi ride from the border of Poi Pet I read a little bit of history out of my Lonely Planet guide, not only about the temples but of the country itself. Exactly one week ago was when I first learned about the civil war in Cambodia. I am deeply ashamed of this fact and at the first opportunity I bought a book that would help teach me about it. I was never even taught about the Vietnam war in school, let alone the Cambodian civil war. I had heard the words Khmer Rouge and The Killing Fields but had no idea who they were or what they meant.

My first day at the Angkor Temples I asked my tuk-tuk driver to stop after the third small temple so that I might buy some water. I was immediately hounded by about eight young girls and young women all trying to get me to buy their “cold drink” and coconuts. One of the young women stood out to me. She was standing a bit farther back from the rest of the girls and clutched in her arms were a great stack of books. Knowing myself well, and the future librarian that I will be, I immediately pushed my way through to her and asked to see her books. The first book she handed to me was, “First They Killed My Father.” I opened the cover and read:

“From 1975-1979–through execution, starvation, disease, and forced labor–the Khmer Rouge systematically killed an estimated two million Cambodians, almost a fourth of the country’s population. This is a story of survival; my own and my family’s. Though these events constitute my experience, my story mirrors that of millions of Cambodians, if you had been living in Cambodia during this period, this would be your story too.”

As I re-type that section I am overcome with all that I have read, and especially the last line of that excerpt. This is a story of a young girl’s survival. Her story of losing two of her sisters, her mother, and her father, and of enduring unimaginable hardships and losses. This is a story where Loung Ung, at the time a child of five years, transports you to the battlefields of Cambodia, to the labor camps, child soldier camps, and makes you see, smell, and feel all that she saw, smelled, and felt. It could have been any of us, is what Ung tells me.

While I went on a physical journey through the temples at Angkor, I simultaneously went on a mental and emotional journey with Luong Ung and all the other millions that suffered and died nearly forty years ago at the hands of their own people. In the temples I sought out any kind of connection from the Hinduism and Buddhism of the past to the Cambodian people of the present. In Siem Reap I saw no temples-no wats- and I never experienced a Cambodian praying or practicing Buddhism. For a country so steeped in religious history I was immensely surprised to find a current country and people almost without any religion at all. Why was this? I kept asking myself.

Now that I have finished the book and completed my short time in Cambodia, I perhaps know why. Throughout the memoir Luong Ung shares with us her journey, but more importantly she shares with us her confusion, anger, sadness, hurt, and hatred [for the Khmer Rouge]. Many times she says that she wants to “kill every soldier” and “make them suffer” like they made her suffer when she lost her Pa, Ma, Keav, and Geak. Buddhists, and Buddhism, as a rule, do not practice anger, hatred, revenge or anything of the sort. They practice understanding, compassion, nonviolence, and forgiveness. With all that the Cambodians faced during these four years, it seems to me Buddhism wasn’t enough to keep them going, to keep them fighting for life, to keep their hope. If you, like Luong, had experienced the death of four of your family members, seen soldiers beat, torture, and kill neighbors and other fellow people like yourself, I bet you, too, would find it hard to keep your compassion for them. What got Luong, and I’m sure many other Cambodians through the war was their passion: their anger and most importantly, their will to live. Buddhism was mentioned once in the book, near the very end when Luong and her brother Meng are at a refugee camp in Thailand. Meng has just willingly been baptized and Luong says, “but I thought we were Buddhist.” Meng tells her that it is easier to get sponsored in the U.S. if you are Christian. One single mention out of an entire book.

Not only in the book but even now in present day Cambodia you don’t see much evidence of Buddhism. Perhaps a large part of this is because religion was outlawed by Pol Pot and the Khmer Rouge (among other things such as dancing, singing, music, etc) and perhaps it never really made a comeback. Another reason could be that so much of Cambodia is farmland with very small villages rather than larger towns and cities where temples would have a chance at being maintained and built. I didn’t spend enough time in Cambodia to find out, but it was strange feeling the absence of religion while I was visiting the largest religious site in the world.

This book left me gasping for breath in many sections, crying in others, and bewilderment at the Khmer Rouge in most chapters. Luong Ung taught me about her people. She taught me about the horrible things Cambodia had to endure in the late seventies and she made me question my lack of knowledge. If I didn’t know about this, how many other similar things have gone on in this world even in the past 50 years that I don’t know about? Through her writing Ung encouraged me, and encourages others, to not close their eyes to the violence and mistreatment of people on this earth. She shares her story so that silently, other stories can be shared as well. She gives a voice to all those people murdered during the genocide and will continue to give a voice to those who wish to share their own stories but, for their own reasons, cannot.

This book has opened up a curiosity within me, not only about the Cambodian civil war, but about Buddhism as well. Buddhism preaches (in its own sense of the word) compassion, nonviolence, and the understanding and accepting of suffering so as to move through it. You then have three countries who are undergoing and underwent some of the toughest oppressions on earth: Tibet, Burma, and Cambodia, all three countries of Buddhism.

At the end of my trip to Cambodia I bought two other books detailing aspects of the civil war: “S-21: Terror and History in Pol Pot’s Secret Prison” but David Chandler, the author of “Brother Number One” and “When Broken Glass Floats” by Chanrithy Him, a memoir about the “killing fields” and the Khmer Rouge regime. My learning about this time in history will continue for many years to come, and I look forward to sharing my experiences with the world and my new knowledge with others.

Longneck Village 11/15/2011


The longneck village wasn’t more than a sad tourist trap. Five different tribal communities were all placed in the same area north of Chiang Mai. A few new friends and I rented motorbikes for the day and stumbled upon the camp-like setting on accident. I was the only one who went in, paying close to $20 to see the tribe that I had first been introduced to in a National Geographic article as a young girl.

The beetle nut stained the woman’s
Mouth in a way I had not seen before,
Coating just the teeth dark black,
With hardly any redness on the gums.

As I made my way deeper in from the parking lot I soon came upon the first small hut where a young girl of two or three, already her neck encircled by golden bands, sat swinging her baby sister in a miniature hammock. Along the dirt path many open air palm and bamboo huts stood side by side. Hanging from each palm-frond roof were the same wall hangings and scarves, varying only in color. On each bamboo floor a young girl sat, ranging in age from eight to twenty one, each situated with a loom pulled down onto their lap, gold rings wound round their necks and/or earlobes stretched wide. The girls were all shy, knew only a little English and not a smile to be seen apart from the face of a young mother with her son. No young men wandered the village and no elderly. A few of the girls had cell phones but the place felt like a ghost town.

The longneck people are originally from Burma and I wonder what has drawn them here [Chiang Mai and Thailand]…tourism (or the prospect of?), unrest in Burma? No one looks happy, a sadness hangs over the village and I wonder if the people are ever allowed to leave…

Artisans Angkor


My first afternoon in Siem Reap I took a modified motorbike (with an attached canopied trailer) “tuk tuk” to the Artisans Angkor establishment. As I jumped off the tuk tuk and stepped under a small gazebo in the sculpture-bedecked courtyard I was assigned a free tour guide and started toward the silk screen painting section. Artisans Angkor was first created to provide a place for disabled peoples (most deaf and/or mute) to learn a traditional craft and have a place to work and earn money.

There were all different kinds of crafts being practiced: silk screen painting, enamel work, metal-working, rock carving, and wood carving. In the silk screen building I learned how the women would first stretch out fine pieces of silk that they had woven from fresh silk grown on their silk farm 20km outside of Siem Reap. They would then trace scenes and images taken from old carvings at Angkor onto the silk and then begin the slow, laborious task of hand painting in all the aspects of the paintings. Upon the walls were large posters that depicted the Khmer alphabet in sign language as well as the English alphabet. On into the next room we went, where we saw a group of young women scrubbing away at enamel painted squares of wood with sandpaper and water, getting rid of excess paint. These women were very interested in talking with me and through the limited signs my guide knew, the women and I talked about where I was from, how old I was, how many siblings I had and the same of each of them. The third room held about six men hammering away with recycled motorcycle spokes at small circular pieces of discolored copper. These would soon become hollow boxes of all shapes and sizes and figurine elephants. The fourth and final rooms held the stone (sand and soapstone) and wood carvings. Both men and women did these carvings and they were also replicas of the carvings and statues found at the Angkor complex.

The large gallery at the end held every sort of art that I had seen along the tour as well as many different variations of silk products from the silk farm: bed covers, scarves, glasses cases, suits, dresses, pillows, and much more. When I went up to pay for the few small souvenirs I had picked out, I was given a brochure and was told that all the proceeds went to keeping Artisans Angkor up and running and employing the artists.

All in all, a very neat place to visit in Siem Reap to see the local artwork and art types.

Book response #1 “Peace Is Every Step”


“Peace is available in every moment, in every breathe, in every step.” – Thich Nhat Hanh

I think this is the true message behind Thich Nhat Hanh’s book, Peace Is Every Step. Through a number of meditation exercises and thought-provoking stories, Nhat Hanh opens the world of healing, peace, and compassion up to the reader.

Throughout my own journey of reading this book I have been in many places: Olympia, WA, Bangkok, Ching Mai, on a boat in the Andaman Sea, and 34,000 feet above the earth. No matter the place or the circumstances by which I read, Thich Nhat Hanh’s words always being me back to the present moment and my place in this vast world. His discourses on the state of the world, the “roots of war,” spreading peace, and being mindful within ourselves were important points that this world needs to open their eyes to.

Nhat Hanh’s primary message throughout the book is that for peace to pervade within this world, it must first begin within each and every one of us, we must not only practice mindfulness but also meditation and see the beauty within each living and nonliving thing: a blade of grass, a rock, a neighbor, even your enemy. To hope that peace will begin to speak worldwide, Thich Nhat Hanh states that we must first have peace in us, that we must be peace. By embodying peace, love, kindness, and compassion it when then be much easier to spread to those around us.

“We need harmony, we need peace,” says Thich Nhat Hanh, and Michael Franti agrees: “we can bomb the world to pieces, but we can’t bomb it into peace.” We, as people who care for ourselves, others, our country, our earth, need a new way of advocating for peace. Nhat Hanh is correct when he says sending angry protest letters to our governments will not get us anywhere. Who would want to read a hateful, angry letter and respond’ “okay, I will do everything that you told me to do, because you said it so nicely and because it is so easy to change a country and it’s policies. The only way we can start moving this earth to peace is if we first begin that peace within ourselves. We must be peace. If we have anger, sorrow, worry within us, how can we preach peace a fight for it with everything that we have? Mindfulness is the cure for this. By looking at our place in this world, by watching our breath and seeing ourselves within the earth as a whole, we will soon a be able to accept and let go of this anger, worry sorrow and instead focus our energies on kindness, compassion, and peace.

Thich Nhat Hanh also introduced the reader to the idea of inter-being, which is also very important in being aware of peace.

Walt Whitman said, “I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars…”
Everything on this earth nd in our galaxy is interconnected. Without our hearts, we would not live, without the sun, that acts as the heart to all, plants would not grow, ants would not crawl, the ocean would produce no life, and our world and solar system would collapse. “Inter-being,” as Thich Naht Hanh calls it is batt is earth and each of our lives exists through. In this piece of paper he says, “there is a cloud floating.” Without the water to feed the tree that gets cut down and made into paper, there would be no paper. If we look even closer we can see the logger who cut downt he tree that made this sheet of paper (or rather, the one I original wrote this on). “‘To be’ is to inter-be. We cannot just be by ourselves alone. We have to inter-be with every other thing,” Nhat Hanh says. Our actions have an impact (direct or indirect) on everything around us. If I throw a piece of trash in the ocean a fish could eat it and die and whatever fish that eats that fish would maybe die ass well. If I decide to yell st my friend and get very angry with her, I will hurt her feelings and make her upset with me. It will probably also make me feel worse and will make the rest of my day miserable. Everything is interconnected. Our thoughts, words, feelings, lives…it is important to see these connections.

This book helped me through some very challenging times of my life: my journey to Thailand which started my five month journey through SE Asia, and my meditation retreat. Without this book I really would have floundered during the retreat and many a time I used Thich Nhat Hanh’s “Walking meditation when angry” to help myself come back to the present and move through the accident of killing my computer while on this school trip. I believe that this book would be a wonderful start to anyone’s studies in meditation and most especially mindfulness as well as those who want to find ways in which to process what is going on in their lives and on this earth.

The past two weeks…


As I sit down to write this the sun
has just begun to set here in Chiang Mai.
Birds are chirping outside the windows
of this old teak house and the fan is
blowing full blast into my face. City noises
keep me company, the roar of a passing
motorbike, the honking of horns, chatter
from the restaurant downstairs, and
dogs barking in the distance.

I am beginning my ten day viapassana meditation retreat at Doi Suthep tomorrow afternoon. As I prepare myself mentally and physically for this my mind wanders back over these past few weeks in Thailand. During my short time here (that feels closer to a month) I have learned more than I possibly thought I could in two weeks. As soon as I stepped off the plane and into the airport, I realized Thailand has changed a lot since the last time I was here and even more so since my first visit as a nine year old fresh off the plane from America. No longer do the Thai women of Bangkok run up to me and yank on my brown hair, you don’t see nearly as many tuk-tuks zipping through the streets (unless you happen to find yourself in the Khao San district) and the sky train now hovers over everything. Some things have stayed the same though. Street vendors yelling out in garbled Thai trying to get each and every passerby to come buy their curries and noodles, the smiles of the Thai people even amidst the natural disaster that has flooded their country, and the infallible helpfulness of the people.

I think that in terms of what I have learned I can accurately start off with my notice of how I, myself, have grown and changed since I have been here. My patience is seemingly boundless, I have discovered, as we have found ourselves on the streets of Ranong at 4 am trying to find a hotel with no person in sight and in the midst of a tropical downpour that almost caused us to miss our ferry to the mainland from Koh Phayam. The books that I am reading (dealing strictly with Buddhism and mindfulness) have also taught me much. Walking meditation exercises have opened my eyes to fact that most people on this earth walk too fast, always having a place that they need to be (and by a certain time) and never taking the time to just…walk. To experience the earth around you, to feel each footstep as it falls upon the ground, and to feel each breath you take. Mindfulness meditations on dealing with anger, sadness, and fear have helped me get through some unfortunate incidents here: leaving my iPod on the bus to Ranong, spilling water all over my computer and frying it, being forced to take an expensive flight to Chiang Mai because buses and trains were not operating due to extensive flooding in the region.

Thich Nhat Hanh has taught me to open my eyes. To view the world around me in a different light. To look deeply within myself when something didn’t go as planned and to determine what I can do about it and how I can look at it so as not to cause myself and others suffering. To listen to the sounds around me, particularly bells, and use those sounds as a trigger to bring my mind back to my body, to breathe, and start fresh.

I have learned that I am not as poor of a portrait taker as I had previously assumed. I’ve discovered that I LOVE going up to people on the street who are selling their wares, or simply sitting and enjoying their surroundings, and trying to converse with them. To share a smile with them. To see them as equals and to ask if I can capture their faces in a photo so that I might always share their joy. While it is hard to break out of my slightly introverted personality, I’ve discovered that it is so worth it.

I’ve also rediscovered that I really cannot make myself sit down and just WRITE. I MUST have a thought, a sentence, a quote, a word, or an image to lead me to the page. This has been difficult since I have found myself trying to force out words for the sake of this contract.

I have also found that it is very difficult traveling with someone whom you don’t know very well and who you haven’t traveled with before. I’ve learned that Kyle and I’s traveling styles are very different: he hates big cities, I love them; he doesn’t like to do the ‘tourist thing,’ and I like to talk to other tourists and get their thoughts and opinions about their own travels; he is always driven by the need to get a story, whereas I find myself taking my time, allowing to come what will come and trying to be present in all that I do. While all of these examples could be construed as purely negative, they are giving me the opportunity to a) be patient with myself and with him and b) to appreciate that there are different ways in approaching everything.

The people I’ve spoken to about my mediation retreat caution me. They worry that ten days is too much to dive into without prior experience, that my body won’t be able to handle it, and that it will completely drain me. (No, Mom, not all of this is from you, don’t worry!) I acknowledge these worries. I, too, worry about them, but rather than focusing on these worries, I feel myself gliding over them, acknowledging that yes, this will be a challenge, but it will be a positive one. I am looking forward to this experience, even, as my mother told me this morning, if it just ends up showing me what doesn’t work for me! I see a change in how I am approaching this retreat. Normally I would be the one going over and over and over the worries in my mind. I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night because of my mind constantly jumping from one thought to the next. I would probably cry over my fear of it, and I most certainly would complain about how difficult it will be. The fact that I see how I would have previously behaved tells me much. It shows me that these mindfulness exercises from Thich Nhat Hanh and Pema Chodron are awakening within me the ability to look at the big picture, to stay in the present, and most importantly, to just breathe.

I can only look forward to what this retreat will have in store for me, knowing that no matter how it goes, I will learn about myself and the practice.