Influences

Now for a little geography lesson. To get some perspective on where I am and what I am about to do, I checked the map. Here is Asia with the Indochinese Peninsula highlighted.

Zoom in a bit and we can see how close India is...

...to the Indochinese Peninsula...

You can see that Bankgok and Angkor are not far apart, perhaps 300 kilometers or so in a straight line. I'm in Chiang Mai, in the North, close to the border with Burma. The goal is Angkor Wat. 

The story of my fascination with Angkor Wat really goes back in time to the 60s. The Vietnam War was just heating up. But I knew about Angkor through my first real teacher.

My first spiritual preceptor was an old Chinese man, born in Indonesia. He had been a Buddhist monk before converting to Catholicism. I met him when I was just a kid, in California.

Just a kid, thinking about life...

I liked to think about things, and as I was growing up back in the sixties, I had a lot of questions. After our family moved to California, we lived in the Mohave Desert in a little town called Pearblossom. Close by was a Benedictine Monastery, St. Andrews Priory,  where I met this man.

Father Thaddeus Yang at Valyermo   http://www.saintandrewsabbey.com/category_s/79.htm

By this time, I was around 11 or 12 years old. In those days, the Benedictine monks were supposed to do some work or service apart from saying prayers and offering Mass. Father Yang used to make sculptures in driftwood. He would find an interesting tree branch fallen in the desert and sculpt it with a blow torch, finishing it with sandpaper and finally polish the work with the sweat of his fine oriental fingers. 

I would take long walks in the Mohave Desert, looking for cactus for my cactus collection, or rocks for my rock collection. At the end of the day, I would find Father Yang, standing over an enormous driftwood horse, his black monk's habit moving in the wind. In one hand he slowly waved his blow-torch over the wood. In the other was the ever-present cigarette. "Camels" was his preferred brand. He would weave the magic of fire and Chinese wisdom over the blasted wood as it gradually took shape. 

Driftwood horse

Then he would quench the flame of the blow-torch, drag on his Camel, and say "Yes, my son. How can I help you?" 

Somehow tea would appear and we would sit and sip the smokey Lapsang Souchong tea and discuss the secrets of the universe. I asked him, "How come Adam and Eve only have two children, Cain and Abel. And Cain kills Abel, so where do all the people come from?" He would smile wearily, puff on his cigarette, and say, "Ahh yes. But it never says there is only one Adam or one Eve. There may have been many Adams and many Eves. It's a metaphor, my child."

Father Yang always had me thinking. One day I asked him where he was from. He was Chinese, after all, but he had been born in Siem Reap, Cambodia. I had a lot of questions, so I pressed him to tell me more stories. He told the story of an ancient city where thousands of people came together with a spiritual purpose. He told me the story of Angkor.

Giant Head at Angkor.

It all seemed like science fiction at the time, but later we moved to the Pacific Palisades. My brothers and I would go to the beach,swim all day and hunt seaweed, underwater treasure,  and bottles we could return for the nickle deposit. If we returned 5 or 6 bottles we had enough for candy and a soda pop we could split. It was paradise.

We could walk to the beach from our house. We spent long hours playing on the beach and stayed in the water until we turned blue. But when I was interested in deeper things, I turned to another man who was a great mentor in my life. My Grandfather, Clinton Stoner.

Clinton Stoner

My grandfather was a mysterious man with a long career in Hollywood. He designed costumes and wardrobe for MGM and Warner Brothers back in the glory days of Hollywood. But one of the things that amazed me about my Grandfather was his library. He had thousands of books: UFOs, Dolphins, Telepathy, Telekineses, Lobsang Rampa, the Third Eye, Bhagavad-Gita, Edgar Cayce, the sleeping prophet, hundreds of old magazines called Fate Magazine, and a book by James Churchward on the Sunken Continent of Lemuria and the links between the Mexican Pyramids, Lost Lemuria, and the ancient city of Angkor Wat. I couldn't believe my eyes. Here were actual photos of the lost city spoken of by my eminent preceptor, Father Yang.

I was stunned. I began reading all the books I could on ancient civilizations: India, Greece, and Egypt. When the Tutankhamen exhibit came to the Los Angeles Museum of Art, I went again and again to visit. I saw the golden mask of the Egyptian boy-king. I wanted to know more about the original civilizations of this earth: how they saw the world, how they lived.
More later. Thanks for reading.

We Vishnu a Hare Krishna...

Here in Gupta Govardhan, every day is a communal feast with friends from around the world sharing conversation and the sacred food called prasadam at the long wooden table next to the kitchen. We dined on Russian Piroshki, Chinese noodles, Indian dahl, and even an American grilled cheese sandwich. We washed it all down with a tall class of Coconut water, and drank our health in Russian. Vash-Zdrayoviya.

After a long day sweating over a film script, there's nothing like a hearty meal with the friends. 

Some of our friends couldn't be here with us, but they are here in person, so we salute our special friends in Moscow, Petersburg, Kiev, Cancun, San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, and Soquel, Santa Cruz, and San Jose, California, and all the friends and family in Salt Lake City, Utah and around the United States. Hare Krishna, God Bless All, and peace.

Aurora couldn't make it this time, but she's here with me in spirit. 

Merry Christmas and Hare Krishna from Buddhaland. Stay tuned. Tomorrow I'll begin writing about the forgotten city of Angkor.

Merry Christmas: Memory Lane

My brother Philo sledding in the snow

.I remember Christmas in Connecticut. White snow, picket fence, fire in the chimney. Stockings hung neatly in a row. When I was a kid we used to have the perfect Christmas. Back in around 1959 or 1960. We lived in a prosperous home.

My mother would drive my step-father the Marquis to the train every morning. He worked in New York, at CBS back in the old days.  Television was good money. There was a Christmas tree and presents. We even got Christmas presents from our grandparents in Hollywood. Life was good.

Philo, Pierre, Mike, Wendy

We were the three musketeers, my brothers Philo and Jean-Pierre, and I. My sister Wendy was our nemesis, the wicked witch of the west.

Cowboys and Indians

In this photo, I am the great white hunter and these are my black african pygmies. We're planning our next adventure, perhaps in Angkor Wat. In those days, we didn't have iPads or cellphones, so we had to make up our own stories. As they grew older, the hunted became the hunters and got the better of me. But back then I was the boss.

Cadger in California

Of course no gang is complete without a trusty dog. This is our dog Cadger in California. He was our second basset hound. Cadger is a cockney word for "vagabond, beggar, or mendicant." Cadger was a humble mendicant of table scraps from Malibu to the Pacific Palisades back in the 60s. Actually this was our 3rd dog. Cadger's predecessor was also a basset hound, back in the Connecticut days.

Noel

Noel was Cadger's predecessor. She came at Christmas. In those days, dogs chased cars, and Noel was a car-chaser who gave her life in the pursuit of automobiles. But we had a lot of fun in the snow before that.

Ingo's Grave

Before Noel was Ingo. I took special care of Ingo. There's no photos of Ingo. Ingo was a boxer. My father named our dog after Ingamar Johanssen. For you boxing fans, Ingamar Johanssen was a Swedish Boxer who defeated Floyd Patterson. He was Heavyweight Champ of the world for about 3 months, before Patterson won the title back. After Patterson knocked his lights out, Ingamar was never heard of again. So, not such a good boxer. Our dog wasn't a great boxer either, but we loved him so much we made a special grave site for him and visited him on the 4th of July with an american flag. My brothers, as ever, accompanied me in the ceremony.

December always brings me back to thoughts of the White Christmases we spent in Connecticut. 

My sister and I with mother in the snows of Connecticut, 1950s.

It's strange to look back and reflect on all the snows that have passed since then.But whenever I think of Christmas, my thoughts turn to Connecticut in the 1960s and my brothers, and the good times we had playing in the snow.

Merry Christmas Everybody!

Flowers, Tea, Elephants

The orchids at the Royal Gardens were breath-taking. I've never seen so many orchids. I have a friend in California, an old pujari named Ramai, who would be ecstatic to see these orchids. I know he would love to decorate an altar with these colorful flowers.

Near the Royal Gardens is a quiet tea house. We stopped there to talk about life and the fragility of our stay in this world. How strange that our time here is short, and yet we must be patient on the path.

We took photos by a charming Thai house made of wood. Lalita asked about old friends in St. Petersburg and I told of my adventures in the snow and ice, dashing between Petersburg, Moscow and Kiev. She's studying at the University here in Chiang Mai.

I like getting away from the ashram to see the Thai culture that surrounds us. As the deadline for my script approaches I'm trying to imagine how the people lived here long ago, what they knew and how they saw the world. Everwhere here there is a fascination with elephants. 

The elephant was not only a powerful mythological symbol as the carrier of Indra, Airavata, or the white elephant who carried Buddha from India to China. But here in these hills, the elephant was the beast of burden who cleared forests for tea-planting.

Today the elephants here are mostly for show. You can visit and play with them at the many elephant parks here in Chiang Mai.

Aurora with elephants, Chiang Mai 2013

The elephant is a symbol of strength and prosperity. I hope that all of you are blessed with much strength and prosperity in the New Year.

Orchids

After all that meditation it was good to get out on the road again to clear my head. Nothing like a spin on the motorbike, a little fresh air, and a trip to the famous Royal Gardens of Chiang Mai.

This time the tour guide was Lalita Canti. She knows Chiang Mai well, speaks Thai, and suggested a visit to the Flora Festival 2014, just a short motorbike ride from the jungle ashram of the Chaitanya Saraswat Math. Here she is with the tickets.

Here at the park are many banyan trees. In Bhagavad-gita 15.1 

ūrdhva-mūlam adhaḥ-śākham

aśvatthaḿ prāhur avyayam

chandāḿsi yasya parṇāni

yas taḿ veda sa veda-vit

It is said that there is an imperishable banyan tree that has its roots upward and its branches down and whose leaves are the Vedic hymns. One who knows this tree is the knower of the Vedas.

The banyan tree is curious because the branches grow out, touch the earth, form roots, and create another branch. It is a metaphor for endless entanglement. Here is one such banyan tree. It is a confusion of branches and roots, On the right  is part of an orchid. While normally thought of as parasitic, orchids are not really parasites. Actually they live on nutrients in the environment. They are true "breatharians," 

Here at the park is an amazing assortment of orchids of all different sizes and shapes. These are all highly colorful and would make excellent decorations.

So I wandered admidst the orchids, trying to make sense of it all. I need to hurry home and finish the script on Angkor, but it's difficult to stare at a wall and a computer screen and be creative. The fresh flowers help clear my mind for the task ahead. 

Royal Flower Park

As we walked and talked, I made some observations about patience and the need for careful cultivation. I remember when I was a child and the teacher would bring seeds to class. We would carefully plant them in little paper cups of earth on a Friday afternoon. When I came to school on Monday, the first thing I wanted to see was my plant. I ran to class. But I was disappointed to see the same paper cup with nothing but a little dirt. "When can I see my flower?" "Patience," I was told.

Here I am surrounded with flowers. I don't want to leave this paradise, but it's time to move on.

Royal Gardens

Maybe I'll be back sometime. For now it's time to hit the road again. 

Ready for action

We'll talk more later. Right now I have to get to work. Sayonara, Adios,  Do Svidanya, and Dandabats.

Local Color

Here in Thailand, Maya is popular.

But here, just as elsewhere, people yearn for peace.

And while in the West everyone is setting up the Christmas tree and roasting the chestnuts, waiting for Santa Claus, here in Chiang Mai, the prince of peace is Buddha.

We took a little tour around the local area to visit a community project centered on documentary makers in Asia and found this charming complex of Buddhist temples. The doors were closed and the peaceful Buddha was resting or perhaps meditating, but we passed the gates just to look around.

I'm with Nana Priya on the left and Vrinda Devi Dasi 

A Local Buddhist Temple, closed for the afternoon.

It is pleasing to take a quiet walk around the grounds and absorb the contemplative atmosphere of the gardens.

A dragon (or is it a Naga?) guards the entrance

In the gardens behind this newer wooden structure is an older shrine built in stone, carved and crafted long ago.

As Buddha was resting for the afternoon, we left him in peace and moved on. The Documentary project was down the street. 

This is the community project on Documentaries. http://www.doc-arts.asia/current-exhibition/ "Documentary Arts Asia." They have a bookshop and a library and show documentaries on Asia made by local film-makers. Since we're having a go at documentary-making it seemed worthwhile to pay them a visit.

I rooted around in the library for a while, looking for information on Angkor, but there was nothing in their library about Cambodia. With the American action in Cambodia during the War in Vietnam, and subsequent regimes and troubles including Pol Pot, academic research and archaeological finds have been limited and the literature is not as extensive as one would hope. 

So, in my best documentary style, I caught a photo of this cat taking the sun. Cat on a hot tin roof, anyone?

Determined to find some more local color, and curious about the way of life of average Thai citizens, I spurred my friends to drive me to the Big C supermarket. Supermarkets always teach me a lot about the places I visit and each one has a different character. So we hopped in the hero-wagon and drove to the big C.

What strikes me about the Big C is the vast number of motorcycles outside. But the produce section also has a great quantity of strange fruit. Papayas, Mangos, Lichee fruits, huge bags of tiny mandarins. 

Shiny Apples wrapped in plastic

Green Pumpkins: very popular

Dried Tamarinds

Shiny red apples wrapped in plastic, bright green pumpkins that look like dinosaurs. Green on the outside but screaming orange on the inside: great for pumpkin soup. Huge bags of dried tamarinds for making a piquant iced tea.  Perfect for those hot tropical December afternoons.  So while in Boston people are drinking hot mulled cider, and in Moscow its hot black tea, here in Chiang Mai there's nothing like a tall cold glass of tamarind tea on a balmy evening.

But tamaraind's not really my cup of tea. I was looking for some Lapsang-Souchong but settled on good old Jasmine.

I find the Jasmine tea helps me to focus the mind, while the soothing fragrance of the Jasmine improves my over-all mood. Thanks for checking in.