Greetings readers from my motherland of Thailand.
You have been so graciously following along with this project since last year’s scouting trip, and it is quite surreal that I am on the eve of my next iteration of work. I have “stationed” myself here in Bangkok with my temple auntie for the past two weeks (whom you will read more about below) as I prepare for a small and mighty group of six travelers gathering tomorrow to experience Thailand with traditional arts practitioners (ie. me and company) - with some old fashioned sightseeing too. The past month has been a diligent push for me to tend to many moving parts, one at a time, in sequence and in due time, as I navigate culture bearing and business owning together. I will share more about how this trip unfolds in the new year, after I’ve rested and digested. Until then, as a holiday gift to you - I’ve sewn together past writings into an “essay quilt” - that patches together my learnings from Temple Arts. Parts may be familiar to many of you, but the configuration into this longer piece as a whole is what is new. Here is the first installment.
Temple Arts, part one.
One morning, I strolled down a beach with two women. Rare for me to see them when they are not spearheading “something.” They were brought together over one simple but not easy idea: ensure that Thai language and arts are not lost for kids in the diaspora. One a dancer who founded a school and performing group stateside. The other a vocalist who sends the yearly rotation of teachers from a university in Bangkok. They have a pile of institutional credentials, accolades, and awards between them. Together, they formed a partnership an ocean apart, and we sit in each other’s presence with the familiarity of a family road trip. Each time introducing me as a student they’ve taught “since she was only this tall.” On that particular morning, no deadlines to meet or knots to untangle, just two old friends strolling the beach, chuckling, reminiscing, and guiding their nerdy, starry-eyed student who’s still taking notes. They built a performing arts school, but the real schooling was in how to hold a found family. And not just any family. A storytelling family that serves the village, by gathering and remembering.
The temple elders set their sights far into our future when me and my peers first stepped into kindergarten and recited the Thai alphabet in unison, one letter at a time. The temple was a school for language, arts, and Buddhism - but also much more. Before and after receiving my bachelor's and master's degrees, I shadowed and apprenticed in community "work" that operates on its own logic. The kind that tells me I can arrive at the temple unannounced, with no appointments and no agenda, and simply "hang around" for a few hours amongst a crew ranging from age three to eighty and every generation in between. I know I will be fed more than once, get most of my questions answered, and be posed many more - about my own ideas, requests for my help, and details on upcoming events that do or don't involve me, and I might get a pineapple carving tutorial in between.
My temple auntie’s wingspan of responsibility and generosity is wide. She has been a chef, a beauty queen, a cosmetologist, a director, a financier, and most prominently, the matriarch of our temple community. Along an arc of many generations, when one becomes an elder, the next generation is their job. I am her job, and after thirty years, she still oversees my work - while leaving me to my own devices. These elders never outgrew their teenage team spirit. They gather in whatever configuration they can - on short notice or not, with a plan or not, with everyone present or not. The Thai word for work/job is the same word as festival/party/event - which is where this community excels because it’s their job. The phrase "join the party" carries a similar weight and tone as a call to "join forces." Classical dance drama productions often had us playing sovereigns protecting our lands. As absurd and clunky as it felt when our teachers suited us up as kings and queens to raise an army - we were, and we did.