Instead, I bought iced coffee and sat quietly, enjoying the
unexpected luxury of unallocated ‘free’ time. In fact, all three these days
have been like this; time, carved out of my busy life, in which to reflect and
write and think. Time to tidy my feelings and emotions and experiences, not
just for this last week in Cambodia, but also for the preceding ones in Brazil.
I have been so busy; there has been little time to reflect, and the days have
meshed into a hodge podge of pain and suffering and sorrow and loving and
laughter and joy. What a privilege it is to be human, and to touch hearts
across the barriers of language and culture. There truly is a universal
language, I am discovering.
So how do I feel, all these weeks of ‘missions’ and ‘outreach’
under my belt (such spiritual, noble-sounding words those). In actual fact, all
I have done is live. Fully, wholeheartedly, deeply engaged, the way –
increasingly this is my conclusion - we are supposed to live all of our time. Spending
time with people who live with all but the essentials stripped away, I have had
a chance to evaluate what matters most. Reaching out, touching, feeling,
sharing; it is relationship that makes life precious. Most of my friends would
concur with these high sentiments. But I have been able to live it in an
intensely focused way for a while. I have been privileged to meet with people
whose faces are now forever painted on my heart.
Alongside my thoughts and impressions of these few weeks, I
wrestle with the tragic and unbelievable news of the death of James Roberts, 3*
Parelli Instructor. I knew James, but not well. He was one of the many
satellites in my horsemanship circle. Did I say satellite? It is probably more
accurate to say ‘star’. Knowing he was there, hearing from friends who did
courses with him, seeing him at Parelli Celebrations – it was always in my mind
that ‘one day’, when I was ready, I would do an Experience Week with him. And
after conversations with my good friends Karen & Russell Barker, who had
done two of these weeks with James, I had decided that 2013 would be the year.
One of the things on my ‘To Do’ list for my return to the UK after this trip
was to book this Experience Week – hopefully along with another good NH friend,
Sue Rowe. This thought, in the back of my mind, was both challenging and exciting.
I was not sure I was ready for James yet, but I was aiming to be. And now this has
to be one of the dreams that dies. Like a child born far too soon, there is no
way to sustain it. Much as my deeper self argues with this fact and refuses to
accept it, there is no other option. Because James died on Sunday, in a car
accident. And none of us who saw his light can believe it.
James was a fine horseman, with tremendous courage, vision and
purpose. The few times I ever spoke to him, I found him generous with his
attention - thoughtful and kind. He gave me advice, way back when my daughter Kerrin
was just a young and dream-filled teenager, about how best to support her in
her pursuit of good horsemanship and the Parelli pathway. He offered for her to
come and work with him so that she could gain experience and insight. He also
offered free tuition for any of my children alongside me should I come on a
course. Sadly my hip problem meant that I did not take him up on his offer. But
I never forgot his generosity or his smile.
I first met him just after he had purchased his ‘Foundation
Station’, and it was wonderful to hear his ideas. Wonderful to walk around on
his property, and to feel the energy of the dream. Wonderful to watch, from a
distance, as he made those ideas reality. Wonderful to hear from so many, who
were encouraged and who found their horsemanship enhanced after time with him,
laying proper foundations in their horsemanship.
He was – is – inspirational. He demonstrated what can be done with
a big purpose and a little bit of time. I am so sad to find that I will never,
now, get to learn directly from his wisdom.
Which brings me back to my earlier thoughts about relationship.
Unfortunately we have no way of knowing how long we have with each other, when
next we will have that chance to say ‘Hey, I care about you!’ I am glad to have
had the chance to practise caring in extreme contexts these few weeks, and I
find myself going home with an even deeper resolve to live mindfully,
thoughtfully and lovingly.
Carpe Deum!
I sat chatting with Andrea and Brenda for a while, and then Paala
did my nails for me. This was wonderful, not just because it was the first time
that I have ever had nails long enough to be ‘done’, but also because they were
done by Paala. Paala is the lady, you may recall if you followed my blog about
the first trip to Poipet, who went to Patricia King and asked her for a ‘righteous
job’. Six months later it was my privilege to experience, first hand, the
effects of the training Paala had received as a result, training that has
opened up a new world for her.
And then it was time, if I wanted to feed street children one more
time, to head for the border. I had money from Elizabeth for this purpose. Parking
the truck at the roundabout, we found a couple of the children and asked them
if they were hungry. Within a short time we had a crowd of enthusiastic
children, and we headed for a street vendor who was soon busy cooking noodles
for them. A mother came over with her small child who was hot and feverish; we
prayed for him and commiserated with her in language without words. She too
joined the growing group of people waiting for food. And then two old ladies
joined us, indicating that they too were hungry. They were absurdly grateful
when we said ok, we would get noodles for them too. Our street vendor was kept
very busy, cooking; including the old ladies we fed 15. Fifteen people with
food in their tummies for today. Total cost? 440 Thai Baht, or £8.99.
Then there was time to hug the children and to try to explain to
them that I was leaving to go away on an aeroplane. (Miming up, up, up in the
sky). It took a while, but suddenly they understood, and I was surrounded by
hugging bodies and smiling faces saying ‘Aw Khun’ (Thank you) and ‘Lea Hai’
(Goodbye). Tears threatened to overwhelm me as I gave a few last hugs and then
I said ‘Goodbye’ to Andrea and headed for the Cambodia border office. Passport stamped
I headed past the Casinos towards the Thai border office. Here there was a very
long queue and it was more than an hour before I was finally on my way. By now
I had met up with the Cambodian representative of my taxi service, and he accompanied
me to the parking area on the Thai side of the border. Here we waited for my
driver to arrive. He said that he had noticed me feeding the children, and he
asked what I was doing in Poipet. I shared that I came because I loved the
children and wanted to help them... at which point he bowed and formally
thanked me for caring about the children of Cambodia. The innate courtesy of
these people is very moving.
The driver was late, and we were kept waiting for a while,
wondering what had happened to delay him. It was a surprise to find that I had
the same driver who had brought me to Poipet, 10 days before. He greeted me
like an old friend, and it was with a lot of warmth that we prepared to set off
on the long drive towards Bangkok. Unfortunately he did not speak much English,
so our communications were limited to smiles and gestures.
Just as we were about to leave a young woman had arrived – it turned
out that she had hoped to catch a bus to Bangkok, but she had missed the last
bus of the day. She was in an awkward position, as she had already crossed the
border, and it would be difficult for her to go back. And there was no sign of
anywhere to stay for the night where we were. I offered for her to travel with
us, at which point she almost cried, saying that she had been praying and
praying for help. I then said that maybe this was exactly why we had been
delayed; that God had known she was coming, even though we didn’t. She turned
out to be from the Phillipines, and she had had a holiday, travelling from
Vietnam, across Cambodia to Thailand. She was now on her way home. It was good
to have company in the car, and we chatted for a while until she fell asleep.
The drive to Bangkok takes about 3 hours, and it felt very long in the
darkness.
At my hotel I tumbled thankfully into my bed, too tired even to
eat. Besides which, I had spent the last of my Thai Baht on the street
children, forgetting that I might need something to eat myself when I arrived in
Bangkok!
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