Last Drops

The remainder of my time in Asia was a bit like sucking the citrus juice out of unwritten days.

Elephants became the official mascot of the trip,
with the etched textures in their skin,
reminding us to remember.

I remembered a pile of forgotten things.
To give more
and not take more than I need
because voids create vacuums
and love is all there is.

Laos was so green and alive,


despite the Secret War that left Laos one of the most heavily bombed countries in the world. Many UXO's still linger in the ground, which explode when humans gather them (knowing the risks) to sell them as the scrap metal is valued more than flesh. It is a sick story illustrating the sickening and evolving irony of capitalism. However, there are powerful organizations like COPE that spread hope in the form of free prosthetic limbs
to replace the warm skin ones lost in explosions.




In Northern Laos, we were able to volunteer at an Organic Farm, painting their bar and encouraging travellers to buy Mulberry Mojitos--all proceeds went to the local school.


And then the Mekong River lazily drifted us to Northern Thailand.

Our time in Chiang Mai was sculpted by Mollie's generous Thai family, as they fed and sheltered and taught us songs about fruit and wetting the bed.

We were delightfully usurped in their lives.

We fell into the Loi Krathong Festival, which celebrates the goddess of the water.
The full moon mirrors the rice paper lantern, as it fills up with the hot air that will waft it to the sky. We spent nights burning new constellations.


We released buoyant lanterns upon the river, carrying our wishes bobbing dangerously close to the water--bumping against all the other delicate desires.

Our final stop was the Baan Unrak Orphanage on the Burmese-Thai border, where we painted mass amounts of murals with/for Burmese refugee children:


A Magic door to the Center of the Universe/God's House


A "Hand"Scape Mural, where hand prints were added by individual kids and volunteers as pledges to take care of good old earthball.


Many small hands were transformed into leaves and flowers,
as kids promised to respect our planet.


Washing hands after was a crucial aspect of the activity.


The kids painted this depiction of their home in a harmonious fashion


And we squished out a calming Sea Scape,
which became very interactive even as the paint was drying.

Then the political conflict in Thailand bubbled over into a protest that shut down the Bangkok airports for 8 days, an interval in which I was scheduled to leave the country. After a long train and some other madness, I escaped from Kuala Lumpur and fled to London.

The UK served as a two-week reintegration station, with playful undertones.


And finally, home happened.

The past two months have been thick and rich,
with my roots curling down
into family and friends and familiar spaces--


finding new ways to fit into these old shapes.


I've just fallen back into another tiny world,
of warm faces and crumbling economies, cold air and heavy days and wild hopes.

I'm just now rapt up in the process
of reflection


while frantically reshaping the lump of my current clay reality.



Finding the balance between my rushed fingers scribbling plans and
trusting this evolving story to find its own bright path through the creamy fog air.