A Life Made of Buses

We were on another bus this morning from Vientiane to Pakse. This was a long one, about 14 hours. It was night and the giant VIP bus was softly humming along the roads, at least this time they were paved. The roads in Lao are like the board of a game, like Chutes and Ladders. They are windy with random patches of gravel. On the way down from Luang Prabang to Vang Vieng, I had thought at some point we were going to land on the spot that will push us back three spaces. It’s possible, especially since the bus wouldn’t start when we first got on.

Luckily, I was at a window seat so when the day passed into night, I was able to see the stars. Not just a few, but billions like I was on the outside of a giant lantern. It reminded me of a Native American legend my second grade teacher told me, the one of the bird that flies up to peck the sky in order to help the dear get home. Well, I’m not sure how it goes, but from what I remember the bird keeps flying up and down to peck the darkness out of the sky. The first peck is the North Star and so on.

Being from Los Angeles, you really don’t get to see stars like this even if you hike up the canyons. The only constellation I can really point out through the smog and lights of LA is Orion, or rather his belt. He was there on the road, big and beautiful. It was dark enough that I could see his bow and sword. The funny thing is that he was on the other side of the sky than when I was home. I took comfort in knowing that that was the direction home, at least to me.

My eyes continued to scan the sky for other constellations. Instead they fell upon the moon. It was shaped like a smile. The bird had sense of humor. There were two bright stars above it, so the combination made it look exactly like a face. I thought God is in the stars. Then I thought of Nietzsche, who wrote not only “God is Dead,” but also “I want to pray to a god who laughs.” This god of moon and two stars had definitely been laughing.

This new bus we were on was much more comfortable and the roads were paved. I had picked up a new book before we left Vientiane, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. I read about 50 pages and loved it. I suppose it sparked this memory of buses. We’ve been on so many and have many more to come. I feel like I was supposed to read this book a long time ago. The truth is I was.

I remember one day when I was in high school I was at my best friend Keren’s house. This was the time when she was living in Canoga Park, right next to the Mission Burrito. We were sitting in her room pulling up old photos. She was leaving to Canada, for real this time. I pulled out the book, “I’ve heard this was great.”

I’ve come across the book many times before, but never picked it up to read. But really, this isn’t about a book or a memory. It’s about embracing moments and feelings, despite the fact you can’t put your arms around them. Thank you Johnny Thunders.

One thing I’ve learned on this trip so far is to take in life, whatever that means to you or me or anyone else. We spend so much time suppressing everything in order to stay comfortable or happy in a unified society, but it’s not unified and it’s not happy.

I’ve been told many times that this trip is an excuse, a fear, a reason to run away from what’s really bothering me. The truth is that’s a load of crap. But, then again, it’s not. If I think about the two men who told me this and if I look at each individual relationship I have with both, I can see that it’s not me that’s running. It’s them. I’m doing what they want to do, what they can’t do, or rather won’t let themselves do. They are afraid of being uncomfortable, I’m afraid of being comfortable.

I don’t know what the future holds, or if this trip is a good or bad idea, or what the hell I’m going to do when it’s time to go back to this “real world” I keep hearing about. I feel like I’m already here in the world, taking in what it has to give me. Whether what it gives is good, bad or indifferent, it is still a gift and a part of me. I’m not trying to be new or unique in anyway, I’m just living and exploring in whatever way I see fit for now, because all I have is my mind and my now.

As a monk told me in Chiang Mai, “Tomorrow never comes. It’s always today, always now.” Life is suffering according to the Buddhist ideology. Want is one of the main causes of human suffering. I suppose it’s a good thing that I don’t know what I want...