I Never Intended to Stay Till the End of the Conference...
But Since You Brought the Humvee

I went to the secret location yesterday morning with the intention of burning data to CD. I missed the truck back to my house that evening and ended up staying with the conference delegates at a little resort. That night arguments ensued, John Denver was spontaneously sung, understandings were reached, toothbrushes were loaned, and fans evaporated sweat from many an overheated human body.

In the morning, after a short meditation in my sweltering 6:30 am hotel room, I walked to the river and sat along the bank. At my feet, I noticed a plant with dime-sized pink flowers like puffs of pink cotton candy. The leaves recoiled and pinched together at my touch. I had discovered a kind of carnivorous tamarind tree, miniature tamarinds and all! Splendid!

In the water I noticed a dazzling aquatic scene. Sitting as quietly as possible in the blazing sun of the white-drenched morning, I saw a crab scurrying along the riverbed. Dragonflies were getting it on. Lizards peaked out from behind dry leaves. Skeletal fish chased after bugs and with a wave of my arm, I could send them scattering. I was reliving my childhood--if you transplant the tropics to Michigan (oh, I shudder to think...)

As a kid, I was one to spend every daylight moment trompsing through the network of swamps and woods behind my parents house. I'd get home from school, take off my shoes and pull on thigh-high rubber boots. I spent hours observing life, pushing a boat through the muck, building tree houses, or otherwise living without a clock. It instilled me a love of nature that never flees. It's also given me a need to balance my city existence with frequent trips to the country. Without biodiversity--without the awe of nature full-on--life gets me down.

The conference started soon after a quick breakfast. Over fifty people from all over Thailand, Bangladesh and India attended to plan the future of my organization. It was a miracle of ethnic solidarity, with over 20 of Burma's 60 or so ethnic groups represented.

I again missed the truck back to my house.

I read some books.

I went to meditate in the woods.

When I came back, our conference was under military occupation. The soldiers were following the prime minister's decree to shut down all Burmese political opposition activity inside Thailand (so he can make business deals with the Burmese junta). At that moment, my third chance for a ride back to town materialized and my housemate said, "you'd better get in the truck right now."

As I went to get my bag, the facilitator broke for the morning. My housemate was sucked into translating for the cops. The Thai taxi truck driver made a quick exit as the stream of army and police personnel grew thicker.

We decided there was nothing much to do but eat lunch while the negotiations took place. The twenty five or so local police officials prevented us from leaving. Before long tens of thousands in local currency had changed hands and we were on our way back home, conference aborted.

The Burmese reacted calmly to the news. We packed up the computer and now we're back where we started. I'm back to the familiar, like evening jogs where I run by the same house blaring Thai rock next to the same Thai temple amplifying xylophone music. The same eyes stare transfixed at me from behind white-caked faces. The same Rolling Stone song I've heard thirty times plays in the computer room--"You Can't Always Get What You Want"