I've spent the last four days with the female monks at Wat Songdhammakalyani. Recommended by Dan's brother Brian, I called the office early last Thursday morning and asked if I could come and stay for a few days. The woman on the phone said yes. So I packed up my things and took a taxi. About an hour and a half later I arrived.
Day 1:
I was greeted by one of the female monks and she had me fill out some info about myself as well as read a short description of their daily routine and their 5 precepts that I was to follow during my stay.
After I was shown my bungalow and settled in a little bit, I joined them in the outdoor kitchen area for lunch. The whole ceremony around eating was very new for me and I couldn't help feeling pretty dumb a couple times when I didn't know what to do. The 8 ordained monks sit in a row with their alms bowls infront of them, and myself and three other women who are laywomen serve them. Then they chant a prayer before eating. After that it's our turn to serve ourselves, but we must also chant the prayer before eating also. (I never actually learned any of the chants).
In the afternoon everyone is more or less alone to meditate, read or sometimes take a nap. Then at 5, we gather in the garden for an hour of community work. The abbess, the Venerable Bhikkhuni Dhammananda, told me after we worked that it was a very important part of their day because otherwise she thinks they would not interact or bond enough. I was given the white robes meant for laywomen to wear for the evening and morning chanting. It took me awhile to figure out how to wear it. The first day's evening chanting was a beautiful experience. We sat upstairs in their building they have for chanting on seperate mats, and I was given an English version of the chants to follow along with. My legs promptly fell asleep, as they have every morning and evening during chanting. Afterwards I was shown how to light incense for honoring our ancesters and placing it on the gilded shrine in the garden. Then it was time for bed. And I wandered back down the long paved path to my bungalow, stepping carefully around the multitudes of small toads scattered quietly along the way, and layed down to sleep on my wooden bed.
Day 2:
I awoke at 5am to walk to the building where they chant at 5:20. As I began to dress I realized in horror that I was absolutely covered in mosquito bites. It then dawned on me that my mistake had been not lathering myself in repellent for yesterday evening's garden work. What a moron, I thought to myself. From then on I made applying insect repellent a little ritual of my own.
After chanting, the Dhammananda gave a talk in Thai, so I just sat quietly and listened even though I didn't understand. Then it was time for breakfast. Afterwards, I spent the morning in the library reading about Buddhism and how it started, and also about meditation practice. Lunch went the same as the day before, and the meal was a variation on breakfast so as not to waste food. Everything is vegetarian of course because one of the precepts is not to kill. Once lunch was over and I'd helped with all of the clearing and washing of dishes, I decided to spend some time meditating. So I went to the temple in the back part of the monastery and sat before a giant blue Buddha wearing a gold robe. I sat for more than an hour concentrating on my breathing and trying to clear my mind. Although I became very calm I was not quite able to reach a point where my mind stopped popping up with random thoughts. And my legs were also completely asleep. So I gave up and wandered back to my room for a nap in the heavy humidity.
That evening the garden work was tiresome and sweaty in the heat. Our task was to overturn the soil for planting vegetables, but since it was too hard and full of rocks, the Dhammananda decided we would have to dig up the bed completely and put dead leaves underneath to airate the soil. Luckily she sent one of the younger monks, Thaniya, to show me how to feed the fish with the plants we had just pulled up. Thaniya spoke broken English and was very sweet and kind. She told me she had only been ordained 4 months ago and was the newest member. Also that she was their only temperary member staying for just 6 months.
Out of curiousity, I asked what made her decide to become a monk. She had only just graduated university afterall. She explained that she enjoyed university and the party lifestyle that came with it, but realized a need within herself to become more centered. She had listened to the Dhammananda a couple of years ago, when she had come to speak about becoming a female monk at her university. (Side note: the Dhammananda has three degrees, one is a doctoral, and she used to be a professor at Thaniya's university for many years). So Thaniya explained that she was bored of the partying (or as she adorably put it: "I was boring" which after realizing the error became a favorite inside joke amongst several of the monks and I), and decided to join the seminary.
Each of the women had their own stories as to how and why they became monks, and each one was fascinating.
After "breaking the ice" with Thaniya, befriending the other women came naturally and easily. One in particular, named Vira (pronounced Wee-rah), became a favorite despite her very limited English skills. She always smiled, and loved to poke fun at me in a friendly way. Thaniya referred to her as a joker.
That evening, after chanting we all gathered together sitting on the floor, before the Dhammananda. She was always so welcoming and inclusive of me, translating everything she was saying so I could understand. A regular volunteer arrived that evening as well to help organize the following day's excursion to the Siam Society in Bangkok, where the Dhammananda was invited to give a talk on the two cities both claiming to be the home of the Buddha. I was invited to come! Not everyone could come, so I was very honored and excited.
Day 3:
I awoke a little before 5, and dressed in my regular clothes, as instructed by the Dhammananda. We gathered for chanting and then had a slightly shorter breakfast than usual to ensure enough time to drive to Bangkok. You never can tell what the traffic will be like.
A second volunteer came that morning to assist in driving. A woman named Than, who looked like a man. (It answered my question as to where were the gay women in Thailand, since it more common to see lady boys). So I sat in the front seat with Than, due to it being against custom for a monk to sit next to anyone except another monk. And Thaniya, Acala (pronounced: Achala), and Yera (don't know how to spell it), sat in the back seat together. As we pulled out of the driveway, they began chanting. This, I was told, was to protect them against harm.
Once we arrived we all sat in the reception area and had some refreshments while waiting. Thaniya and I wandered upstairs to the library to browse around for awhile. The Dhammanandas talk drew a small crowd, mainly comprised of westerners. After which the monks had lunch, and then the volunteers and I were allowed to eat. One volunteer, nicknamed Muu (piggy), was especially friendly towards me and spoke very good English. She asked for my email address and even said she'd send me information about Chiang Mai, recommending that I visit the baby panda at the zoo:)
On the ride back, Acala asked what I thought of today's talk. I told her that I found it very interesting, and remarked on the uniqueness of the Buddhist religion and philosophy. We chatted the whole way home about it and about meaning and purpose in life. When we arrived back at the temple and had gotten out of the car, Acala took my hand and said, "Carrie, we are very happy to have meeting you," with a warm smile on her face. "Thank you for having me I said," smiling back.
After a much needed nap it was time to work in the garden again. We gathered bags and bags of dead leaves. Vira making jokes about how in California I would say "ew" to doing dirty garden work, but how in Thailand I was on the ground scooping huge piles of leaves with both arms. Haha, what a joker. Between that and the fact that I had over 45 mosquito bites, there was always something to be laughing about. Naan, one of the laywomen loved to pantomime the mosquitos, making buzzing noises and then pointing to her arms and legs over and over making "bock! Bock! Bock!" noises, turning everyone into fits of giggles. Besides joking around their other favorite thing to do was to try to teach me Thai. Unfortunately, despite my great ability to mimic the sounds of the words, I was a very bad student and always failed to remember the same words the next day.
After work was over we all went to go clean ourselves up and get ready for evening chanting. I sat with my palms pressed together as it was a rehearsal evening for Sunday's special ceremony for one of the volunteer's fathers who had passed away last year. Afterwards the Dhammananda played a recording of one of her talks she had given in English about the importance of living in the present moment and always expressing your love and appreciation of your loved ones. She shared a very moving story about a couple who always fought. So much so that they did not speak to each other for one month. And on the thirtieth day, the husband passed away suddenly. The wife was beside herself in misery, so she came to the Dhammananda's meditation retreat to try to heal herself and relieve her sorrow. It was an example of what can happen when we take each other for granted.
Day 4:
Today is special because Sunday is the day for alms rounds. I was excited to be coming along. There were 4 monks (including Thaniya) as well as me and two volunteers who followed behind with a cart to collect the offerings from the villagers. We walked 2km around the streets of the village to accept multitudes of food from families who looked like they barely had enough for themselves. Yet they always gave alms each Sunday without fail, and in return were given sacred blessings by the monks. One family who was waiting for us on their doorstep with their bowl of rice and other food, was an elderly couple and their son who was a midget. He had a cataract in his eye and had trouble breathing, but proudly scooped rice into each one of the monks bowls with a smile on his face. After the monks gave them their blessing, Yera told me that they had been waiting every Sunday on their porch to give alms for the last 36 years.
When we got back and all of the offerings had been sorted and many had been placed into dishes for our meal, I looked at the table overflowing with food and was amazed. Everything was delicious. Later that morning we had the ceremony to honor the deceased father of one of the volunteers. It was very beautiful and very moving. Again we ended with yet another huge feast of food.
That afternoon, I spent napping and contemplating life. And the abundance I was blessed with, which became so clear as I lay on my wooden bed in the little bungalow under a fan that stirred up the hot humid air.
Right at 5, when we were all supposed to gather for work in the garden, it began pelting down in rain. Huge torrents of water splashed down, but after about 15 minutes it lightened enough for me to sprint to the kitchen under my small umbrella where I joined Thaniya, Vira, Kitya, Mtta, and Naan. We sat around and waited out the rain and the rest of "work" hour. Thaniya then held up a package of spaghetti that they had gotten from somewhere and asked if I would make them all spaghetti before leaving the next day. Sure, I said, but how? What will I put in the sauce if you don't have tomatoes? They told me they had some tomatoe sauce and proceeded to show me ketchup. Hmmm, I said doubtfully. Well, I'll try, but if it tastes bad you can't blame me! Ok! They replied, smiles on their faces.
That night I tried to figure out how I was going to make ketchup taste anything like real tomatoe sauce.
Last day:
Only 3 monks arrived that morning for chanting. Apparently many had fallen ill with headaches and stomach aches. Including Thaniya. I was not to see her again before leaving unfortunately.
At ten I came to the kitchen to start preparing my pasta dish for lunchtime. Naan had already gotten out onions and a cutting board for me, so I started chopping. Acala soon came in and cheerfully told me that she would be my sous chef. (although it sounded more like sous ship). I put her to work chopping the garlic. I explained how I would normally prepare pasta sauce and that it was a favorite family recipe. She was interested in hearing about my family and whether I enjoyed cooking and learning from my mother. Yes, definitely, I replied. By lunch time I had done my best concocting a makeshift version of red sauce over pasta. Acala tasted it eagerly and said it was good. In spite of myself, I was actually impressed that I had managed to turn ketchup into something even vaguely resembling pasta sauce. A few more monks came out of their rooms to join in the "spaghetti" eating. Naan caught my eye over the table and gave me a smile, saying "aroi" which means delicious. Thanks I said, giving her a smile and a small bow of appreciation.
After lunch was over and I had packed my things and cleaned the bungalow, Acala told me that Than could give me a lift to the bus stop. Oh thank goodness, I was not looking forward to walking to the bus stop carrying a huge backpack in the heat. I bought a tee shirt specially designed by the Dhammananda's son, a book about meditation written by the Dhammananda herself, and a lovely little, hand-embroidered bag, made by Acala. Then I donated a sum of money, what I could afford, to support the temple and say thank you for all they had given and shared with me. I scurried after the Dhammananda before she went back to her office to give her my thanks. She smiled and said she hoped I would remember my time spent here, and that they would remember me that evening as they worked in the garden. Also she said, with a smile and a twinkle in her eye, from now on she would make it a new requirement for all Americans to prepare a farewell lunch.
Acala and Naan implored me to try to come back each year to visit. They would be waiting, they said. And so would the mosquitos! I said. As I made my way to the car, I stopped and held each of their hands and said thank you one last time. Naan said, "we'll memory you." "I'll remember you too. Please tell everyone Goodbye for me. And you have my email, don't forget to write."
"oh yes," said Acala with a big smile, "good luck."
And so I made my way by car, by crowded van, and by taxi to a litle guest house by the train station of Bangkok. After a long afternoon nap and a nice shower I went downstairs to talk to the friendly owners about my next journey. Next stop: Chiang Mai.
