I had to buy cigarettes, nature had a gun to my head

Does anyone remember that early line from the film Wonder Boys when Michael Douglas says, "I don't drink, usually... but this was turning out to be one fucked up day." Ha. Sorry for the expletive (Fr Doll) but he said it, not me.

I wouldn't consider myself to be a smoker. But consider this. It's not yet the rainy season in Bangkok. But I have heard thunder for over an hour as the sky gets darker outside my office window. I automatically have "Kathy's Song" stuck in my head by Simon and Garfunkel.

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

This song is like a verbal version of the beautiful melancholy outside my window. Even now the wind is picking up and it's getting dark grey outside. Almost like tornado season in Omaha where the anticipation trumps the actual weather.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And as a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

So, obviously, I had to stand on my balcony with a cigarette, welcoming the rain whenever it gets here. I didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Sometimes, when I have a song stuck in my head, I put it into this bank of songs I have in my brain that I someday want to sing to my children. My parents sang to me and it's one of the things I really look forward to when I'm a parent. I like this song, mainly because it's easy to sing and sounds kind of like a lullaby. An honest, slightly mournful lullaby, but a lullaby at that.

And then I start talking to this daughter I have yet to meet. About thunder storms and why we shouldn't be afraid of them. That we should be grateful God gives us these big storms to remind us how small we are and how it'll be gone in a few hours and we''l still be here.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

And I think it's a good one to sing to your children, even if Paul Simon meant it for Kathy, who I assume is an adult. "The only truth I know is you..." seems so fitting for a mother to say to her daughter. So, to my someday daughter, I'll say this, knowing it's true before I even know you, "There but for the grace of you go I."

And now you know why I wanted to smoke on the balcony. It just adds that last bit of romance to an already romantic day. Anticipation, thunder and smoke rolling into the wind.

How would Leonard Cohen have written about this moment?

Something to the effect of, "When the light had abandoned them they shared small white candles to brighten their way. And their goods glowed with brilliance of something I just couldn't say."

So I was walking down this street market in Luang Prabang, Laos on holiday with Julian. He was sleeping at the hostel and I was looking for a cheap massage. This is the average street market in SE Asia. The kind where, in Bangkok, I get sick and tired of the same cheap stuff being sold stall by stall. But in Laos, on holiday, I can't get enough.

The electricity had gone out on the street, as it does in a third-world communist country. And all of the street vendors began distributing small white candles to each other, just as the night was going from dusk to total darkness. And almost instantly the market started to glow. And all of the brightly embroidered bags and scarves lit up. And immediately it changed from a market to a what looked like a holy place. It felt like a holy place.

Julian and I were talking the other day of how we experience something so beautiful. Since I experience things through a religious, spiritual

lens, and he doesn't. After all, in the past few days we have seen stories-high waterfalls pouring into turquoise-clear water, suttees behind limestone cliffs, full moons glowing orange over old French colonial architecture, lit up ancient wats, dark caves and misty rivers.

But that's not what we're here to talk about.

We're talking about street markets… I think.

The point is, after seeing all those incredible things, I was most in awe of this glowing street market and the people handing candles to one another.

So how do I experience it when I see something so incredible?

Gratitude. Just utter gratefulness that I get to be there to see it and that I have the capacity to experience it.

So thanks.

Wee morning hours

It's 5 a.m. In Bangkok and I can't sleep. It's the perfect temperature in Thailand in the wee morning hour before the sun rises; it's still hot and humid but there is a brief reprieve from the sun that seems to be up all day and never offers any shade.

An afternoon in Bangkok is like a day in Maycomb, Alabama, I imagine, except not at all quaint. What was that that Harper Lee said about Maycomb, about black dogs suffering in the heat and the women taking morning and afternoon baths to stay cool? Yeah, it's like that. Excepts everyone suffers in the heat and we don't have bath tubs.

But now it's lovely. The fans are sufficing, which is unusual, and I'm enjoying it so much I'd rather not sleep. This reminds me of those great early summer days in Omaha, like May or June when school just ended and I feel like I can enjoy the weather for the first time. I used to always wake up early and on days like these get up and go for an early- morning drive. I felt like the city belonged to me, with the streets nearly empty. I'd be tuned into KGOR but would be playing it quietly, as if singing Billy Joel above a whisper from a moving car would wake up the neighborhood.

I loved those days. You only get one or two in a summer. And I love today too. I certainly don't feel at any time of day like I own this city, though. Believe me. I have been out on the streets of Bangkok at every hour in all the weather Thailand has to offer (which isn't much), and it always feels like Bangkok owns me.

But that's ok for now. I'm not really in "Bangkok" as it were right now. I am on bed listening to the birds and waiting for the sun to come up. My roommate is asleep and it's the beginning of a new year.

Not a bad way to start 2012. Let's hope serenity is the name of the game this year. For all of us. Happy New Year everybody.

25 things before I'm 25

After a margarita, a G and T, a sheesha and a chocolate lava cake, my two favorite lawyers and I hunkered down to make my list of 25 things to do in the next year and a half.

Some of them might be a little lofty (#1 Go to Africa, #5 interview Pete Seeger) but they are now written in stone. And by stone I mean they were written on the back of a Dunken Donuts bag.

It's kinda intimidating having goals. In fact, it's usually a goal of mine not to have goals. Like, now that I have them written down I have to do them. And even though I want to do these things, it's scary. Especially the bungee jumping idea.

Ah well, if I don't get them accomplished in the next year or so, they can be moved to my 30 before 30 list I suppose.

In the meantime, if anyone wants to teach me how to cook a meal or how to drive a nail properly it would be much appreciated.

A fleeting love affair

So I’ve been out of the States for over a year now. And I hear these stories (mostly from Sophie) about this traveler’s passion. Where you fall head over heels for someone really quickly because you are both in such impermanent situations.

Well, I was super jealous of Sophie and all of the other backpackers I saw falling in love in hostels and on beaches.

I’m not so jealous anymore.

As it turns out, the impermanence of the affair is pretty painful.

As you can probably tell, I met a boy. And he was nice. And now he’s gone.

Rather than going into the probably all-too cliché details, I’ll make a hodgepodge of lyrics from my favorite songs (you can click the numbers to listen) to explain the last few days of my life. And then I’ll probably jump out of a window.

1. Who are you? Who? Who? Who? Who?
2. Getting to know you, getting to know all about you. Getting to like you getting to hope you like me too
3. I got a girl and I kissed her and then, oh Lord, I kissed her again. Oh, oh, kisses sweeter than wine. Oh, oh, kisses sweeter than wine
4. I’m so glad, I am so glad, I’m so glad I don’t know what to do. Would you be my little darlin’, would you be my dear, would you be my darlin’ be my dear?
5. You’re a flower that is blooming in the wildwood, a flower that is blooming just for me.
6. Baby please don’t go. Baby please don’t go. Baby please don’t go down to New Orleans, you know I love you so, darling please don’t go
7. Oh no, I can’t believe you’re leaving me. Stay with me, baby. I’m asking you, begging you please
8. I’ve never seen a night so alone, when time goes crawling by… I’m so lonesome I could cry
9. You gotta give a little, take a little and let your poor heart break a little. That’s the story of, that’s the glory of love
10. We’ll meet again. Don’t know where, don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet again some sunny day

I'm off balance, Indonesia told me so

So there I was, stumbling through a public park, my friends gently trying to assist me from getting from point A to point B. I was hardly able to take a step without losing balance. I know what you're thinking. I was drunk. Like stupid drunk. Like probably-should-go-to-meetings drunk. Well, you would think that, wouldn't you? And you would be wrong. You should be ashamed.

No, if helps the story, I might add that I was blind folded and there were dozens of other people there too.

It was Ollie's and my last night in Yogjakarta, my only night out in our 10-day whirlwild tour of the JRS projects in Indonesia (you guys rock, by the way). It was a brisk evening and the staff, God bless them, took us out on the town. We had dinner which was the best (and that is not an overstatement) duck i have ever eaten. Forget the forks, we just ravaged those birds like it was our last meal.

Then they took us to the town square.

If you can imagine dozens of golf carts covered in cartoon characters made of colorful rope lights, then I will not need to provide a picture. That's it. Golf carts and tandem bicylces all covered in rope lights for tourists to hire and ride around this tiny section of green space.

So we get there and Lars, a JRS guy, tells us that is tradition to blindfold oneself and to try to walk through these two enormous Banyan trees. Apparently people have been doing this for years but I don't exactly know how it got started. I imagine some enlightened Buddhist monk with a long beard first told some foreigner to do it to balance his chi or something. Or perhaps that's form a Karate Kid movie.

Anyway, we have a go. I'm up first because I stupidly am always game for everything. Walk in a straight line with my eyes closed, I thought. How hard can that be?

So JRS people blindfold me. I have the tree in my mind's eye. I can see myself walking through the two trees an making my wish. Ah yes, I forgot. Apparently you get a wish if you do this.

The first thing I notice is, not only can I not walk in a straight line with my eyes closed, I don't trust myself to walk at all. I am about to fall over with every step because I can't truly believe there is ground under my feet without seeing it.

But I keep going. And going. Until they just tell me to give up.

Now one might think that people would barely miss the trees. Or maybe run right into them. They are big honking trees, mind you.

But no, I walk straight for maybe a few steps and then somehow make a 90 degree angle and walk parallel to the trees toward the street.

And so does everybody else!

Now, I don't know the science or spirituality behind this, but something is off. Only one of the six of us made it through three trees. None of the rest of us came close. And some of those people were born and raised in Yogjakarta and have been trying for years.

So, in case I needed any sign from the heavens that my inner-balance is way off, I got it.

Thanks a lot, Indonesia.

Why Ricky Cheffer is the smartest person I know

From a Skype conversation Sept 14, 2011

Molly

I am saving my money. I need to live on $60 a week

Not eating anything over $1.

Ricky

umm

is that...feasible

Molly

yeah

in Bangkok it is, sort of.

Eating less, eating a lot of rice.

Ricky

ahh

rice is nice

it will suffice

meals thrice

mice with dice?

that's my advice