Jesus on a Flapjack

There in the glaring sun, something in the patty’s dried mud and rice straw debris caught my eye. A small metallic disk. What the... There it was as clear as any likeness of Jesus on a flapjack: My name - graphically depicted on a bottle cap: LEO. I took it as an affirmation from Mae Posop. I'm supposed to be here. Amazing.

It was only 4:45 a.m. when I heard a vehicle pull into the guesthouse parking area. Khon Montri promised to arriveat 5 a.m. It would be like him to be early. Very well - up and at ‘em. I make my way outside with luggage in hand where I’m joined by Wun and Gloria who appear out of the darkness, packed, ready and raring to go.

With little conversation and no breakfast, we head for a Buddhist Monastery somewhere out there in the darkness. The name of the temple is Wat Kasemsrima. Khon Montri’s immense van has air/conditioning, soft leather lounge chairs and a large television screen. We sit comfortably with our feet up on the footrests. If we smoked cigars I’m sure we would have fired them up. At least in the movie version. He asks me of my plans concerning the distribution of our programming. My words come out of my experience and he seems pleased with what he hears: I tell him that it has become obvious to the producers that there is no more efficient or effective manner to reach an exponentially larger audience, or any of its parts, in shorter or across vastly extended spaces, than with digital video distributed over the multi- platforms so easily accessible throughout Southeast Asia via the Internet. Southeast Asia is presently witnessing a high acceptance rate to social media by individuals as well as a rapid growth in citizen’s journalism. Shaping these developments is a newfound affirmation of social media as a channel for the voices of ordinary people. As a result, the activation of a community has never been more responsive. We are in the right place at the right time. Within minutes we arrive at a public square - good sized and well cared for. In the dim light we seem to be surrounded by temples, open-air study halls and eating areas. In the dim light a dozen shadowing figures move about sweeping leaves away, freshening-up the large pile of loose rice that sits near the center of the square, and laying-out large grass mats. Locals begin to materialize and find comfortable seating. Gloria asks me stay behind her and out of frame.

I try, I really do. When the early morning rituals are about to begin a distant gong sounds. Deep and soft. It repeats - speeding up in tempo. A long line of stoic monks appears walking in a long line into the edge of the space. They pause and face the modest crowd for a long while. I think it was so we, the crowd, could watch and adore them, these holy men from long ago. Suddenly I realize one of monks is on a cell phone. This is telling of an age of change. It’s happening right now and we are there. We witness an ancient and moving Mae Posop ceremony that has been performed at the time of harvest for 5,000 years or more. Sufficient to say it is moving emotionally and that there were often tears often running down my cheeks. There was a Holy White String ceremony.

One of the outcomes is that I now wear a thick white string around my left wrist. It’s all about being connected - being in relationship - with all the elements that surround us.