Smell the sea and feel the sky

Dear Friends -

Here’s two more things I like about Thailand: the purified water dispensers that are everywhere--you can fill up a liter jar for three cents, and the toilet--a separate hose spray douche cleans the orifice, no need for flushing paper. Oh also--since I love watching movies--any current movie you can rent for a dollar at Red Box (a great deal in the US) I can buy and keep for sixty-five cents.The other thing I love about Thailand, especially in the north in Chiang Mai, is the Buddhist temples, and the bowing to that which is sacred.

I’m not a Buddhist. I’ve often said I am Zen. I’ve also identified myself as a shaman artist. (an example of one of my original shaman masks is pictured to the right)

A shaman sees through dimensions of time and reality, and Zen is an undefinable, non-sensical ways of Being. We live in a rational world, one where everyone strives to make sense of everything. Neither one of those makes sense to the rational mind.

“The blind woman sees--one thousand illusions--she choses and disappears.”

(I've made a character in my novel Shambala--a haiku master . . . I'm practicing)

The Zen or shaman master will point to the illusion and invite you there, always hinting that what it is you’re so seriously seeking “is not there.” But we keep looking there--until we see what the shaman sees: ‘Hark, now hear the sailors cry. Smell the sea and feel the sky. Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic.” Van Morrison is a Zen and shaman artist . . . in his music he points to that which is sacred.

I personally don’t care about a particular theology, dogma or teaching, but I do care about ancient culture; the rich and profound energy that permeates the temples and sacred places where people have bowed in reverence for hundreds or thousands of years. After living there for twenty years, I recall in sadness the history of how the US military smashed the Hawaiian Royal crowns and priceless treasures in the late 1800’s, while stealing the island nation and attempting to destroy a rich and sacred culture. Today the destroying is more refined--left to commercial invasion, the world is becoming westernized, homogenized, mesmerized.

I was sitting in a Chiang Mai Starbucks the other morning listening to Elvis sing a Christmas song, wondering where the hell I was. Well . . . I know where I am and I can understand, after all it is Starbucks. That evening I decided to end my day with an epson salt bath--so I went to a local Thai supermarket. I’m walking down the aisle looking for the salt, minding my own business, believing I’m in a Buddhist country, and suddenly I’m dreaming of a white Christmas with Bing Crosby.

It’s like (sing along if you'd like) - “I’m dreaming of--what its like to buy a whole bunch of shit I don’t need--a white Christmas . . . with every baht I’m supposed to spend.” (I could go on)

I had no idea, caught entirely by surprise, I was being programmed with piped-in western consumerism. (Christmas = spend money) Really, I didn’t even think about it while humming along with “Christ the Savior is Born” at the check out counter. Back at my apartment I finally woke up from the trance--I sat down to eat what I had no intention to buy--French bread with Dutch butter, Italian pasta, American potato salad and German beer. (a strange combination for me) Gut en himmel! I forgot to buy the damn epson salt.

I have to keep going back to - "its not there." That (the piped in music and consumer explotation, etc.) is not what’s sacred—it is one of the thousand illusions. So what do I choose? I chose to let my soul and spirit fly as I sail into the mystic. Does that make sense? Of course I don’t care. I choose to bow to that which is sacred, and holy and inherent with the land I am visiting - and hope the powers that be have the good sense to preserve it for centuries to come.

I’ve extended my visa for three more months. BTW—today I went to my Chinese Doctor. She has been practicing for thirty years—a master of acupuncture—and I find her to be extremely wise and caring. This was my third visit. It has always been difficult for me to explain what it's like to be a hyper-sensitive human—a blessing to the shaman and clairvoyant, a curse to the drug addict. She told me that I am too sensitive for western medicine, too sensitive for Chinese medicine, too sensitive for acupuncture—she hinted at but didn't say—too sensitive to be living in a city. She told me to be calm, no stimulation, eat nutritious food, drink lots of water—go away and be at peace. Where to do I go when there is nowhere else to go? I suppose I have nothing left to do but take her advise—be calm, be still . . . the answer will soon be revealed.

With my love and blessings to you as always, David Dakan Allison

Sunset from my window