Humbled to be Blessed

I have traveled to Thailand to be with the elephants many times. Each experience began or ended with a blessing ceremony. There has been a consistency in the formalities of the ritual, although my understanding of it has grown and the intimacy has deepened.

8 years ago was my initial experience at Elephant Nature Park, which is the first foundation to advocate for elephants well being. There are over 80 elephants there and it has expanded to all animals; 600 dogs, hundreds of cats, water buffalo, horses, pigs, etc.

There were close to 100 foreigners volunteering in the many different programs they offer. We all were in the meeting hall they call, ‘The Platform’. We were being blessed so that our work together would benefit the elephants and the people.

That was the year I saw Yo for the first time. I knew the second I saw him that we would know each other for a long time. Perhaps it was that he looked familiar to me, underneath his skin, behind his eyes. I knew we were friends before we even met. He was coming off the program called Journey to Freedom which clearly expresses the fact of the matter; these elephants who have been forced long ago into a complicated, oppressive, and messy relationship with humans have a long journey to finding freedom.

Freedom is when you are the subject of your own life. You are at center in the dream of your story. If humans are centered in an elephant’s existence, there cannot be freedom for that elephant. The elephant is not living free. We must not forget that even though there may be less suffering, when the focus is getting a selfie taken with a rescued elephant who walks back and forth from the pen to the river, who eats bananas and riceballs because they are not in their natural habitat foraging for the diverse diet that is necessary for their good health, the human is centered and the elephant’s life is sacrificed. It is quite obvious if we take off the selfish blinders and walk a moment in their footsteps. What if your life was controlled in such a way that you were living for the folly of another? Is it?

Back to the blessing ceremony.

So it has been 8 years since I first saw Yo. I’ve followed him into the jungle to commune with elephants many times. On this latest trip, the ceremony occurred on the morning of our departure.

It had rained throughout the night. A soft light mingled on the eastern horizon under gray, turbulant clouds. We gathered around the fire outside the house waiting for the chief to arrive. My first encounter with him was a month before the pandemic shut the world down, January 2020. He looked no different with a calm, stoic face, deep brown eyes that invited you closer. I was grateful to see him again. Returning to this village brought me such joy seeing familiar faces. It made for smiles and warm laughter, a sense of reunion. I took the knit cap I’d made on the plane off my head and gave it to him. I could tell by the expression on his face that he liked it. He propped it on his head and tipped it forward slightly. It looked fabulous on him as he wore his traditional sarong and a well worn down jacket.

A few more women arrive; terricloth towels made into turbans on their heads, long black hair spilling out from the folds, brilliant patterns in the woven cloth wrapped around their waists, sweatshirts that zip up the front with a faded Minnie Mouse and I love New York, big smiles and warm hugs generously given.

Mr Beautiful's wife and Nam Pe are walking up the hill towards us as we stand around the smoldering fire. Mr. Beautiful’s wife is indeed the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life with her wide cheekbones framing sapphire rimmed mahogany eyes. She is tall and moves like water. Nam Pe is so small, yet no suggestion of fragility. She laughs loud with a hint of mischief in her eyes. Her movements are spritely. The two women ascend into the house and we follow.

From the other entryway, Mr Beautiful shows up looking so fresh and fly. He bathed and dressed up in the stunning woven cloth that the women of the village make. He would take part in blessing us, as would Nam Pe and his wife. I never did get her name.

We sit on the broad, wooden planked floor, wide eyed and bedazzled by the preparations swirling around us. Gathering the ingredients; a cup of water, a bowl of cooked rice, a bundle of thin cotton string, a woven basket full of morsels wrapped in banana leaf in the shape of a cones; sticky rice with nuts and sweetness in a little package that fits like a puzzle piece in the palm of your hand. We wait and watch. The sounds that are words with meaning in their beautiful language hover in the atmosphere. They point with their lips and chin, chuckling, and throwing opinions around. One need not know the language to understand that. They all work together, we watch, and the anticipation is bubbling up in everyone.

It is, perhaps, no big deal to them, yet we are in awe. I feel a wave of love, appreciation, gratitude, and a tinge of whatever that is when it’s is over and you want to hold on tenderly…to the people, the place, to that which has changed you.

And then it begins. Chief puts the blessing treat in my hand and takes the string and begins to invoke. I recognize a few of the sounds. I have been trying to remember what I have learned of their language, put it in my mouth and share in communication. I hear the sounds that I have been told mean, ‘wish good health upon you’. He rubs the string across my wrist where the veins can be seen, where my life is close to the surface. He makes a high pitched sound, a trill that slopes upwards like what a kid would say while sailing down a slide. He is sending the blessing into and up my arm with the sound of his voice and the movement of the string. Nam Pe kneels down in front of me. Our knees touch. She begins on my other wrist.

Dipping the string in the water, over the rice, into the basket, sending this sustenance, these well wishes, and protection into our hearts from our palms which hold sweet gifts that we will eat. More elders came and help with the blessings. I felt immersed like in a river amongst smooth rocks at the bottom rumbling, air bubbles rising, multiple currents playing their parts in the symphony of the ceremony.

As it came to an end, I looked around the space overwhelmed with the sensation of being so full of that which is unable to be put into words, yet we try; that invisible light in between everywhere and nowhere, the immense gift that has no weight, the unstruck sound that quivers hearts. We all long to touch the untouchable, to embrace that which cannot be held. I feel it here.