Koh Phangan, Thailand

After a quick pit stop for pad thai and cabaret, it was time to head south to a Thai island paradise called Koh Phangan (sounds like ‘koe pon gon’).  I’ll be here for ONE WHOLE MONTH at an International Awakening & Healing School focused on inner peace and self-development………but before we get to that, let’s talk about the island itself.

Koh Phangan is known for the infamous Full Moon Party – an all-night beach rave akin to the Jersey Shore on steroids.  Think neon and black light and dangerously-strong cocktail buckets (with amphetamines slipped in) that’ll black you out and fuck you up make you rethink your life choices.  THAT…….is not my scene, for obvious reasons.  #1 I’m not 22.  #2 and more importantly, neon clashes with my complexion.

i WISH i looked this good….

I booked one and a half days on the southern ‘party’ shore to be close to the action (because even though the January full moon doesn’t arrive until the 31^st, there’s always something fun going on).  I figured I’d stay in a party hostel, play some beer pong, maybe a little beach volleyball, make some friends la la la……. but by the time I got there (after truly exhausting myself in Bangkok), all I wanted to do was collapse.  I checked in, got my key, took my shower, plopped onto my concrete slab masquerading as a bed, and looked wistfully at the air conditioner that didn’t so much work as it looked pretty.

The tagline of the island is: you didn’t come here to sleep.  Well, sorry bou’cha.  I slept for ten hours and woke up feeling refreshed like I’d been in a fight with a sidewalk.  Thanks for the memories, Echo Beach, and for the $9 private room; I’d like to check into my hippie dippie haven now, please.

I hailed one of the many pickup truck (read: drunk bus) taxis, and spent twenty-five minutes clenching my butt so I didn’t slip right off the metal bench and onto the street.  Everywhere I looked, out the back of that pickup truck, was beautiful.  Simply gorgeous.  The palm trees, the bungalows, the fruit stands, the water within throwing distance.  We passed by this little fishing port FILLED with boats of every color, sitting on a backdrop of powder blue water that melted into a powder blue sky, and I was instantly overwhelmed.

I thought to myself, ‘this is fucking magical’……….and then I burst into tears.

It had finally sunk in that this was happening.  That this was my new reality.  And it was all too much.  I eventually got myself together and stopped sobbing (because the motorbikes driving behind me were starting to get worried) and I suddenly wished I had a hose…….to clean myself up before I met my new roommates at Samma Karuna.

get it together

Straight from the school’s website, Samma Karuna (meaning ‘the right compassion’ in the Pali language) is ‘a school that puts the heart at the center.  A school that aims to offer inspiration and support in one’s life path……….and helps to develop within oneself love, kindness, joy of life and compassion.  Samma Karuna gives each student a set of tools that they might find useful in their daily pursuit of a happier and more fulfilling life’.

An earthy, crunchy, hippie-dippie kumbaya of love and acceptance – – – – sounds great, right?!  Right!  What’s even better?  The one-month program ranges from $1,200-$2,000 USD depending on your accommodations, BUT (and this is a big butt and it does not lie) if you sign up as a volunteer……… the program is free.  Repeat: the program is free and all you need to pay for is accommodation ($150 for the month) plus food.

Here’s the deal: I have access to an entire SUITE of yoga, meditation, and therapy classes, taught by yogis and shamans from all over the world.  I’m encouraged to take between 2-3 classes every day for my spiritual journey, and in EXCHANGE, I have to ‘work’ for about 2.5 hours a day (it’s actually 4 hours per day, but they encourage frequent breaks to center yourself).

What does ‘work’ entail?  WELL……. we get the halls ready for class; we sweep the pathways with a soft broom; we work with intention (making the space beautiful for ourselves and for others); and, my personal favorite, we rake the beach.

Funny story- on my very first day, I was tasked with raking the beach.  I spent an hour and a half raking that sucker.  Putting rake lines on every square inch.  Zoning out and tapping into my inner calm, using the exercise to connect myself to the earth and to the school (as that was no doubt the objective).  I got NUMerous compliments on how great the beach looked (‘wow, it looks like a resort!’  ‘wow, it looks like you’re really loving this!’  ‘wow, no one’s ever done that before!’) before I found out………all I was supposed to do was rake the leaves off.  The 12 leaves.  And a few rocks.

Have I watched too many movies about the alcoholic ex-general whose soul is saved by light manual labor in the Japanese countryside?  I dare say yes.  As a point, I’ve signed up for beach duty every day since, and conTINued to make that beach beautiful for myself and for others.

It’s crazy how something can feel so normal so quickly.  How easily we can fall into a new routine.  By the end of my first day at Samma Karuna, I felt completely at home.  No twinge of loneliness or ache for familiarity – there’s too much good energy swirling around this place for any ‘a that.  These PEOPLE.  This COMMUNITY.  It’s so special.  So open and free and full of love.  So much gratitude and peace and sense of comfort – with each other, with oneself, with one’s body, with the environment.  No one’s trying too hard or apologizing for themselves or forcing anything.  Everyone here is just trying to figure out where they fit in the world (and HOW they fit into one-handed tree pose).

My roommate list, alone, is like roll call for a United Nations summit.  Martina from Sweden, Natalie from France, Niamh from England, Iman from Malaysia, Paul from Australia, Gokben from Turkey, Paulina from Denmark, Niki from Greece, and Crystal from Royal Oak, Michigan (Midwest shout out whaaaaaaat).  Then, there’s Dag from Norway, Eliza from Southern Italy, Natasha from Belgium, Isabelle from Montreal, Juan from Spain, Yonathan from Israel, and that’s just the volunteers.

So many personalities, perspectives, accents, yoga pants, but of course, I have two early favorites = Niamh (pronounced: Neeve) from London and Gokben (pronounced: Goak-ben) from Turkey.  Within one day, Neeve gave me a nickname (‘Swiftie’, which caught on like wildfire) and burrowed deep into my heart.  Gokben is a tougher nut to crack, as she’s generally quieter & more reserved, but when I succeed in making her laugh……. I feel accomplished for the rest of the day.

I’m TELLING you, this place is magic.  Yesterday morning, as I was raking the beach (and loving every minute of it), a smaller version of The Rock’s tattooed character in Moana walked right up to me and said, ‘Hi, I’m Brett.  Wow!  Your eyes are so beautiful and ALIVE.’  Then he hugged me and walked away.

WHAT

IS

HAPPENING

And it’s not limited to the teachers or students on campus.  This young (Danish?) string bean scooted past me as I was walking to town, stopped his scooter and asked if I wanted a ride.  A complete stranger.  Never met him before.  Proactively asking me if I wanted to hitchhike……… AND since he was wearing a big backpackers pack, he said if I wanted to come, I would need to drive.

WHAT

IS

HAPPENING

In such a diverse melting pot, it’d be easy for me to lose my sense of self but, rest assured, I’m still 100% me.  Last Friday, a bunch of us went to a fire pit jam session (where one guy tried to harness the energy of the fire for about 75 minutes), and at the end of the night, I couldn’t remember where I put my shoes.  Without flinching, Gokben lifted up a body pillow and there they were!  Then, on the way to the street, I couldn’t find the scooter key.  WHICH was still firmly placed in the ignition of the scooter………but we couldn’t celebrate for long because someone else’s scooter had fallen on ours, so Gokben and I had to tag-team a three stooges dance routine to lift it off & slide ours out.  Meanwhile, I misplaced the scooter key.  WHICH was hiding in the front pocket of my jean shorts.

Ten minutes later, as we were walking to our room, she picked up my mini eye drops container off the ground.  THAT’s weird, cuz that was in my………. oh jeez, my purse was open and hanging sideways in my arms.  Then, right on cue, I dropped the scooter key.  We tiptoed into our room, up one flight of stairs, and before I made it to my bed, the back of my jorts got caught on Neeve’s floor fan and I knocked my sunglasses over the banister and down the stairs.

Gokben turned to me and, in her thick Turkish accent, said, ‘Vut is wrong with you?’

I knew, in that moment, she saw the real me.