With a severe screech of brakes and harsh grating of gravel you feel the motorbike seamlessly slide from beneath you. Your body somersaults with the talents of a daring trapeze artist before creasing into some new age origami as you flat-line onto the hard road surface. Your soul seeps out of its facade & views its crumpled shell. An empty vessel. Your mind catastrophizes. All your senses depart simultaneously. Nothingness. Can you live without sight?
That incomparable sunset over shimmering pagodas, majestic stupas, intricate spires, antediluvian temples. They glimmer like allusive diamonds embroidered into the tapestry of the land by Buddha’s own hand. You must see. Can you live without sound? The discreet gasps of awe. The echoing words of astonishment. The gracious whispers of admiration. The faint laughter of children oblivious to the wonders beheld to them. You long to hear. Can you live without smell? The exotic odors, the intriguing aromas floating from bustling markets invade your nostrils. The mustiness, dampness, grubbiness of your clothes; rough from travelling’s hard graft, but now familiar, fragrant.
You need to smell. Can you live without taste? A rapturous droplet of water caressing your tongue whilst trekking. The sweet broiling tea that cleanses your palette, revives your consciousness. The sumptuous flavours in lucrative consumption of chicken and rice concoctions, eagerly devoured to energize. You hunger to taste. Vulnerability overwhelms you. Worst of all…You can no longer feel. Can you live without touch? The humble stranger in Yangon, whose fingers brushed yours as he generously passed you, the somnolent hitchhiker, an umbrella to shelter you from the brutality of wind and rain. The charitable hands of the driver hoisting you aboard his vehicle; the warmth of his leather jacket. The violence of the ride onward to Bago, battering your body as you rolled around in the back of his truck.
The soil against bare soles, the sand between toes, the rocks digging at heels, each tree’s rough bark, each flimsy leaf, each fragile petal, as you rambled to the pilgrimage site of Kyaiktiyo. The hospitality of an unassuming monk, the softness of his robes and worn peripheral of his offered shelter. The coarse exterior of the Golden Rock, as you grazed its surface in search of a sense of self-purpose. The smoothness of the skin of the bananas you comically offered as a parting pleasantry to new found comrades. The gentle hands of an unexpected savior, her abrasive skin from years of toiling as she taught you to cook and provided you with a warm meal without want of anything in return. The delicacy of the decaying walls peeling away in the hostels of Taunggyi. The compassionate woman who painted your face with thanaka and called you ‘beautiful’ in Bagan Myothit. Those cheeky boys in Nyaung U with their street-wise smarts, who shoved you playfully in a whim to creep into your affections and procure money from your pocket.
The texture of the aging fortifications of the ancient temples of Old Bagan you sat upon. The cramped conditions, bruising your skin in the passenger seat of the punishing lorry ride to Mandalay. The sharp piercing of your feet from the gravel you kicked up in fury when you were abandoned on an empty highway in unknown territory. The cold marble of the Buddha image in the Mahamuni Temple , which blessed you into submission. The smooth tiles of the striking mosaics of the Sutaungpyei Pagoda at the summit of Mandalay Hill. The crispness of each new day’s sheet of paper, the indent of lead, as you your scribbled reveries, longing for the day that you would impart them to the world. Myanmar has touched you. As you lye motionless on the road…Enlightenment beckons. Accidents are not accidental. The fear of scars, dread of injuries, terror of never moving again. These thoughts that had compelled your entire being as your fateful descent from the motorbike loomed, suddenly lie dormant in your mind. For what are scars, but tattoos the universe chose for us?
What are injuries, but proof that you lived? Without movement, you will still have the ability to be moved by this world, as long as you have the strength to play the hand it has dealt you with wisdom and optimism. Choose your next card astutely. Focus on the generosity people have displayed to you time and time again throughout your life’s travels. You have been fortunate thus far. Suddenly, overcome with appreciation, a begotten strength compels you. You leap into animation. Whatever your unbeknownst loss from this incident may be, in this profound, life changing moment, how incredible it must feel… To be alive.
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