Sunday, July 22, 2007

336 posts ago....


Note: My other blog has been updated as of today. Click on sidebar if you'd like to read it.


When I opened up this template, it told me that this is my 337th post.

I can't believe it!

Printed out, it would be the equivalent of a book!

Yesterday, I took the day off from posting.. and didn't really miss it much. I puttered around, cleaning things that needed cleaning and pulling weeds from the garden. All afternoon, I lay around on the bed, reading, with an old movie playing in the background.


Last night at an odd time, I got a surprise phone call.

The phone rang at 1.30 a.m, brought me out of a dead sleep and nearly scared me half to death. I'm not the sort of person to get middle-of-the-night calls. I'm not on anyone's emergency list and even when my father passed, I got an email asking me to call (subtext: at a decent hour).

I reached for the phone, figuring it was some drunk dialing a wrong number. It couldn't be Deborah's bill collectors, the previous owner of my phone number who seems to have a lot of outstanding debt. I get her calls a lot. Um. A lot. "Is this Deborah B*****?", "No." "Does she live there?", "Not unless she's hiding in the closet."


Friday night I had a planned phone call from a fellow blogger that was long and delightful and rambling. We covered a hundred topics in a nearly four-hour phone call. We tossed subjects out like pebbles on a lake, seeing where the ripples would lead next. They led from the lake, to the river, to the ocean. It was wonderful. I am not ordinarily at ease with people but found myself quite at ease with her.

Anyway, during that conversation, I must have conjured up the person who called last night in the weesmas.

Finally, I caught the phone before the voicemail kicked on.


"S'wadee, dear."

I sat up straight in bed, wide awake.

It was my beloved Ajahn S.

"Aaaah. Oh. Ah. Hellll-LO! How are YOU?" I felt like crying!

"How you do? I thinking about you."

His accent is something I tend to forget. When he speaks English, he sounds like Ting Tong Macadangdang from the British TV comedy. He even uses outdated British slang.

"Fine. Um. Fine. Uh."

Funny how we get tongue-tied around people we not only admire, but people we have given a degree of authority in our lives. I couldn't imagine why he would be calling me. I hoped like you can't imagine that he has not found this blog... or started to read it regularly. He'd probably think I'm some sort of idiot!

"Do you know when you come back?"

Gave my projection. Probably next summer some time. Sooner, if possible. This latest wrinkle with my father might delay me a bit, especially if the will goes into probate.

"Being there not you so good for, eh?"

I talked for a few minutes with him, the kind of honesty that takes place with someone we trust completely. No, it's not easy.. but, yes, I'm coping. I want to come home. I miss you. I miss your family. I miss the friends I made there. I even miss R., my host, crash pad provider when I was there before.

I was struck by the power of those words. "I want to come home." Feeling in exile, stranded, unrooted. At this point, I explained, I've kind of accepted my fate for what it is and am not going to give in to complete rootlessness. I'll remain rooted to the periphery of life here.

And I've put to rest and found peace with the fact that no one here in my private life has any understanding of what that's about. I don't need them to understand. Not any more.

So, we talked on for twenty minutes or so and I went back to sleep feeling wanted, feeling loved, feeling a part of.

It's a peaceful kind of feeling. I don't think I had that word for it.. before.



Snoskred said...

Chani you make me feel so homesick for a place I never lived in when you say "I want to come home". I was born in Adelaide which always felt like home to me, until my parents moved to Tamworth in country NSW about 10 years ago. All of a sudden, Tamworth was home - and there I was living in Adelaide. I felt utterly displaced in a place which I had always thought of as home. I can't describe how disconnected and strange I felt.

Maybe I'm hormonal or something but reading this now I still feel the pull to Tamworth and it brings tears to my eyes, even though none of my family live there now and in fact my parents are a short walk down the street. But the place was so welcoming, everyone was so friendly and I just loved it there. As much as I love it here and have begun to feel this is home, there's still this gravitational pull back to Tamworth. I don't know why it is so. :(

So I understand what you're saying here and I wanted you to know how much this post shook me internally considering I thought that I thought this was home now, odd as that sounds.. and I wish there was a way to get you home sooner..


jen said...

oh, chani. he knew you needed this dose of home and he called and made it so, and by doing so crossed the thousands of miles with a single sentence. a year from now is not that long, friend.

and wow. 337 pages - a book indeed. and one day it will probably be so.

blooming desertpea said...

I know that feeling and one doesn't get that from many people on this planet - is it a connection of souls?

Ahhh, wonderful ... I'm glad you could have that feeling, I don't I've that for a long time ...

meno said...

I am struck by you being able to talk on the phone for a long time with someone you haven't met. How special is that?

Only a year to wait. A long time and a short time.

slouching mom said...

Oh, Chani. I am so glad he called. I'm a little teary -- this post really got to me. I wish I could help get you home.

flutter said...

Home. A year is not so long to wait...although your heart will say differently

crazymumma said...

A magical person who could reach out at the strangest of times and touch you JUST in the way you needed to be touched.

A lovely feeling indeed.

heartinsanfrancisco said...

I'm so very glad he called. He must have sensed your homesickness, and perhaps he even tuned in as you surely told your new friend how much you love Thailand, and why.

He must miss you, too, the way a loving father misses his dear daughter. By making vocal contact with you, he enveloped you in his special spiritual protection like the white light we always hear of.

You are clearly loved and protected, and when you are ready to go home, every detail will be in its perfect place, as you will be in yours.

Christine said...

wonderful!!!!! how exciting to feel that love from so far away, from HOME.

Tabba said...

Chani, isn't it wonderful to have that kind of honesty with someone who knows....someone whose roots are firmly planted in the place that you call home.

I could feel the happiness in your words, the relief, the wholeness.

I'm so happy for you that your dear friend called.
At just the right time, too. No?

Snoskred said...

How did I not know you had another blog?


painted maypole said...

what a great phone call!

and, I love your answer about the person not living there... "Not unless she's hiding in the closet."

Hootin'Anni said...

You've been added to the Over 50 & Bloggin' blog roll!

Your blog looks wonderful, and I hope if and when you visit others of the 'same age'--you'll find some lasting friendships.


Julie Pippert said...

Chani wow...isn't it something special when that happens. Come home. I can just imagine the click of place and homesickness all at once. (HUGS)

It's a FLIP-FLOP World said...

Thanks for finding and stopping by my blog. You are living in a beautiful part of our USA! I have been there once and it is beautiful. Sandy

thailandchani said...

Snos, I think there's some validity to the idea that certain people thrive in certain locations. It is the "draw" that holds us, something special in the air..and the way we feel when we walk on the ground.


Jen, the weird thing is that I haven't called him for a few months.. and hadn't even sent an email in a few weeks.. yet, yeah, he knew. He's uncanny that way. :)


Desertpea, yes. I think it is a soul connection. Ajahn S is a bit unusual himself, not the kind of guy who is tapped externally. He lives very internally.. and is absolutely devoted to his traditional Thai culture. To a degree, I think some people don't even understand him in his own environment.

We recognized each other immediately. It went beyond gender, nationality or social circumstances. We just "knew" each other.

Just this little Thai guy and an oversized farang. We saw beyond all of that right away.


Meno, I am very comfortable on the phone.


SM, yeah.. sometimes I feel like ET. LOL


Flutter, sometimes my heart is more persistent than other times. LOL


CM, it almost makes me believe in magic. :) He called at just the right time.


Susan, I believe that. In a weird way, it almost seems to be coming together in spite of me. Only a year.. just one short year... most probably.


Christine. yeah.. and it occurs to me that most people feel that in their culture of origin.. but.. I still feel fortunate to have found mine.. my home.


Tabba, it was just the right time... in a way that neither of us recognized at the time. Mostly it was some underlying stuff that hadn't even quite bubbled to the surface yet.


Snos, I started it in April, the week after my father died. It's a blog with a specific purpose. I think that was before you began coming here.


Maypole, LOL. Sometimes my sarcasm does come out at the oddest times. A phone call that is not for me is especially irritating for some reason.


Hootn'Anni, thank you. I'm looking forward to visiting all the blogs on the blogroll.


Julie, yes.. it was like that. It was dark in the room of course and when I was talking to him, I could have been in a room anywhere in Khon Kaen. Weird.

Well, except his forgetting the time difference. It would have been rather strange to be in a dark room at 3.30 in the afternoon.. which was the time in Thailand when he called.

Scary. I always know what time it is in Thailand.


Sandy, thanks for coming by.




QT said...

Chani - Just catching up from the weekend. What wonderful timing. A year seems so long, but by the same token, not such a long time. I hope this call gave you the strength for a few more months.

mitzh said...

Oh, Chani I am so happy for you. I wish that you can get homesoon.

Mary said...


I know you had sweet dreams.