Zoom in and look at those smiles!!! From the beginning of our trip last March, one of @balance_odyssey 's goals was to get monks on a Slackline. The way it worked out was awesome! After separating in the morning with a vague plan to meetup in the next town some 100kms away I was fairly certain I'd see neither of my traveling companions again that trip. I was beyond recognition, sick with giardia for the last two weeks and trying to ride everyday had put me in a sorry state of despair. I took a biological nuke, a potent anti-parasite called Tinidazole that I happened to have left over from Nepal. Within hours I began to feel human again. Why I waited so long? A silly devotion to natural medicine that had failed me miserably in this circumstance. I began the ride in the heat of the day and soon aborted, opting for a hitchbike in a concrete truck. There were no familiar words besides, USA, between my compatriots. We exchanged smiles instead. They dropped me at a fork in the road and I slowly, diligently, and faithfully pedaled the last 15 km into the town Id hoped to find a hotel. Not thinking that my friends would be in this town I was cruising through looking for a shady spot to sit, observed by those surprised to see my particular shade of skin tone. Halfway through town I heard familiar voices and turning to my left were the smiling faces of Logan and Ray!!! Wow. We sat and ate. Replenishing my depleted body. When we were done we began the search for suitable lodging. Google predictably brought us to nowhere, but there was a man who stopped to help us. We gestured for sleep, he gestured follow me. After a hilariously slow ride through town we arrived at the monastery of these smiling monks! They ushered us and all of our gear into their meditation center. We were curious why all of our gear needed to be inside, but we were anxious to setup a Slackline, so we got to it.
Future Slackline guru. He walked the entire line during his first session.
Most of the monks participated and all were laughing and smiling and having a grand time with this new activity and playful newcomers. One monk even walked the entire line within a couple of hours! Eventually, the head monk, a hunched and wrinkled old man who carried himself with an air of dignity came out and ended the practice for the evening.
A young monk playing shadow games with my camera while a friend watches our interaction. This ended in much laughter and smiles.
Afterwards we went out to eat once again, but before long that smiling monk found us with an ominous lack of expression. We returned to the monastery to find an interpreter, a local policeman, immigration official, and a secret service agent. You can imagine our confusion. They told us we couldn't stay there or anywhere in that town, and that we had to ride to the next town. We were nice, we argued, we were denied, we bartered and we were denied further...we got a tad angry. After pictures were taken of our passports and visas, we loaded up our bikes amidst a crowd from the monastery. All were present. Some were arguing with the immigration official. It was to no avail. We shook hands with each one. Their faces expressing sadness and disappointment that we had to leave. One young boy, dressed in 90s punk memorabilia and a backward cap pointed to the police and said aloud, "Motherfuckers". The head monk made a gesture of a falling tear and gave me the sincerest look of thanks and compassion I've perhaps encountered. There was more exchanged in that look and handshake then in many conversations I've had in my native language. I'll never forget those eyes, filled with thanks, pain, grace, love, and understanding. We mounted our bikes and rode 24 kilometers to the next town that had a legal place for us to stay. The secret serviceman followed us on his motorbike all the way to the edge of town, lights off, fluttering on the edge of our view. Logan shouted in annoyance at this display of power.
Logan teaching the ways. He is exceptionally good at engaging a crowd and teaching Slackline without language.
As we rode, we expressed our concerns for the monks, that we may have gotten them in trouble. We reminisced on the welcome and the fun we had shared there. We imagined what our breakfast may have looked like and the experience of morning prayer that we missed. At was a long day, with a disappointing ending, but in between were some wonderful moments. I think of those monks often and imagine the Slackline as a part of their daily practice. The monks and boys from that community becoming adept at the mindful act Slacklife. I'm so grateful for that time there and one day, after Myanmar's governmental oppression of its people becomes a chapter in a history book, I hope to sleep on the floor of the prayer room, head pointed to Buddha.