I went for a leisurely bike ride this morning. I have to admit, I honestly can't remember the last time I did this is my community, which is strange, because I went biking for fun nearly every day when I first arrived here. I took the same path I first ventured down, a little over one year ago. I remember how new and mysterious everything felt. I remember wondering what was around the next corner, what was beyond the next hill, how far this red dirt path stretched on before me, what was at its end? As days became weeks and weeks lapsed into months, this path became familiar. I anticipated spots that were frequently washed out, I knew the exact point where the red dirt gave way to sharp concrete. I knew which houses had dogs I needed to slow down for and which had dogs I could pet. Today felt different. Over the last 396 days, I have watched playful puppies grow into dogs that greet me with wagging tails. I have watched the crops seeded and sewn, sprout and rise - some into stocks tall as trees - sugar cane, watermelon, corn, and tapioca. I have discovered which homes house my students. The smells of the farmland have become familiar, and they remind me of last summer and lazy days discovering the countryside from the seat of my (now rusty) bicycle. Bemused stares have evolved into grins and shouts of greeting.
One year has passed in the blink of an eye. It really does seem like I was exploring my community for the first time just yesterday; but now I can tell you where that dirt path ends. I can tell you which crops were just harvested, which will be cycled in next.
In fact, all of the crops have cycled through at least one season since I came to Khao Chon Kan. That means, all of the crops currently growing are of completely different stock than the plants that were just sprouting when I arrived here.
I feel a bit like this, myself. The changes happened little by little.
I run through the farmland nearly every morning. I'm surrounded on all sides by acres and acres of perfectly tended fields, but I rarely see anyone working the land. I don't notice the day-to-day growth of the crops, but the change happens - the growth happens - and once the plants are tall enough, large enough, ripe enough, they're cleared to make space for the process to begin again. I suppose we're all an endless cycle of growth and destruction and reemergence. New to known to familiar until we're ready for the next adventure. I think Thailand isn't quite done with me yet. There are still paths I haven't biked, plant names I haven't learned, students and friends I'm not ready to say goodbye to. The growth hasn't been comfortable. What growth is? The change has been constant: the unsettling, the settling, the learning, the understanding, the misunderstanding, the alone, the loneliness, the togetherness, the breaking, the building, the resistance, and the surrender. I can't tell you where this path ends. I'm still walking it. But by this point, it feels familiar. My life here feels familiar. And comfortable. And for now, that's enough.
