So we are on an island in the south of Thailand, and have been for a few days now. This is completely new and different. The feeling of the area we are in is different from that of India: Chill/thoughtful; different from Nepal: adventurous/sporadic; different from Bangkok: Distracted/traveler-central; and different somewhat from Laos: lazy/pleasure-seeking. Although I think Laos is the closest. We are in the party zone. People attend massive parties every night, late into the night. The four of us guys attended the years more anticipated beach-front party, ‘The Full Moon Festival’, on the 2nd as an evangelistic experiment much like a ‘viability sortie’. Rather than J4J t-shirts, our “colors” were made up of neon colored body-paint that said messianic things like, Yeshua ha’maschiac, Yeshua Ch’ai, and Yeshu=Yeshua=Yeshuah. It was and interesting experiment. Most people were not interested, much to distracted by their intoxication levels, but some of us had a few conversations with interested Israelis.
What I want to share with you is something I wrote in my journal today, kind of a poetic reflection of the experience. Here you go…
I stepped out with hesitation into the sandy water that was far too close to the entrance of the beach. Nothing had changed in the few hours since I had been here last, hoping that the tide would lower and waters subside from their seemingly palpable irritation. Almost as if trying to keep something out –away, in defense of itself. Somehow it seemed obvious rather than silly to attribute human characteristics to the harsh ocean that I had stepped, calf-deep, into.
It was eerie how dis-unified the scene was before me. Possibly alarming, but more unsettling to experience the contrast. The stark contrast between the breathtaking landscape existing in a frenzied blur of jade, aqua, cerulean, taupe, and variety of leafy greens shining under and irrepressible sun; with the crashing rumble of the lathering shore breaking, and the warm howling of a pent-up wind. Drift wood and garbage circled my ankles as the water sucked back to its source in its unending rhythm. I walked deeper, avoiding a long piece of metal roofing that had been taken captive, probably at so0me point during the night’s downpour.
People came from all over the world to stand here, with expectations of ease and tranquility, imagining themselves blanketed by the unhindered rays of warmth as well as the peaceful chimes of the soothing call of the sea. THERE WAS NO PEACE HERE. Not anymore. Something had been distorted in only a matter of days; barely plural. ‘Something like punishment’ , I thought instinctively, but I shied away from that sort of thinking… naturally. It wasn’t like me to see the world through superstitious eyes –at least not with a great amout of self-denial. But it was so connectible, and my true tenancy towards symbolism swallowed my efforts to not think of God in his punishing role. It was NOT like me to think of God that way: Heartless. Callous. Merciless. I was appalled by my thoughts immediately, knowing uncertainly that there is always a balance. I took it back, for my own comfort.
Shattered and fanged beer bottles rolled up and down the shore with the waves across the almost white sand. There were less littered in the water now then there had been on the beach two nights ago, but I couldn’t be sure. They were everywhere, abandoned; and staunch sobering proof of what went on here. I thought back to all I had seen on this beach, remembering the orgy of tanned, muscled, beautiful bodies pulsing to the beat of an overwhelming bass-noise that deafened the sound of all the alien accents of the attendees. Alcohol-soaked, eyes glued to the artificially brightened sky that exploded with fireworks. Everyone was here to not remember much in the days to come. That is except for us, and so I felt like an intruder, out of place and vulnerable; which I decided was okay.
Was the land purging itself? Purifying the area swiftly and powerfully…? Whether or not the beach was truly personified and attempting to redeem its territory in the mystical way that I fantasized –There was no doubt that there was a shift, and the weather was unruly. I couldn’t help but decide, against my better knowledge, that it was fighting back. The thought had crossed my mind that night even, as I lied on the sand , eyes closed with the ringing of partying in my ears. sounds that I was not accustomed to. As I lay there, faking my comfort in being here, aware of bodies in the dark, some passed out, some on the verge of climax; the rain began.
For two days previous the sun had shown in perfect glory upon the calm tropic. And now, as the full moon highlighted this human experience of shallow pleasure and independence, the skies flooded down upon the Rites. I had thought it then: ‘how appropriate?, and I went back to my room and fell asleep to the echoes of the lustfully drunk celebration muffled by the piercing wind outside my window. Now, I surveyed the damage trying to make some symbolic conclusion to amend my discomfort at the sight. Absorbing the wreckage, the balance I had known existed surfaced to my awareness like a life-raft…
‘God is loving, and God is jealous.’
