Part of the week for Phra Oat and the 200 other boy monks at his temple was to go on a day trip to visit a temple outside Bangkok. As you can see from the picture, there was something special about the trip as it featured visiting a hill with a figure of the Buddha on it.
Life is a journey even for a 13 year old Buddhist monk. He looks happy but I wonder what sense he makes of this experience. Om remains the proud uncle. It reminds me somewhat of my going to the seminary 40 years ago. Oat will remember this for years to come but who knows where he will end up in life. Who knows where any of us end up in life?
On Saturday, I returned from visiting Oat at the temple with Om to find that someone had jumped in my building and killed himelf. His body was there lying on the concrete below the door to my room which is on the fourth floor. he had jumped from the sixth floor past my room. I didn't know who he was but discovered that he was French, in his mid 50s and had lived alone in our building for a few years. I met him in his sad death and wondered all sorts of questions. Who was he? Why did he do this? What was going through his mind at the time? Did he reach out to anyone? Could I have reached out to him?
On the same day, Oat and Chris, this French guy, were at different ends of life but they both made me ask about life and the journey we share. As I reflected and tried to make sense of life, it struck me that what matters the most on this journey is that we reach out to each other. After all, we are sharing the same journey and it is far too difficult to go it along. May Oat and Chris both share in the same peace we all strive for.
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