Not For the Weak
My First Haircut in Over a Year

I told him I wanted to do it right then.

"But no! You won't look like Jesus any more," he said.

No matter. The nine inches and beard had to go. There was no sense wasting my time any longer brushing out the tangles, pulling it back to keep it out of my eyes, waiting for it to dry, or any of the other hastles. I asked him to take me to whoever cuts his hair. I told him it didn't matter how his barber cuts it--I'm going to shave my head in a few days on the new moon anyway. (That's when my meditation probably begins (oh how I've learned to use the word probably)).

So we get on the motorbike and a minute later I'm in a dinky shop with a toothless Thai man pointing at posters of Asian boy bands. My Karen office assistant and I are trying to tell the barber that I want a cross between the kittenish fluff ball on the left and the Eminem clone on the right. I end up with neither. And like I said, I didn't care. Just as long I don't look like a hippie.

The haircut cost a dollar.

For another twenty-five cents he threw in the most painfull straight-edge razor shave of my life. He tiled the chair back and I stared at the ceiling in terror as he grinned and scraped, grinned and scraped. I manifested (imagined?) memories of past lives' tooth pulling experiences from similar positions.

I came out looking like a bloody half shaved medical rat.

No matter.

I went to wandering, bought a corn waffle and a slushy orange drink thing from the corn waffle and slushy orange drink thing lady in the market, delivered some raised funds to the funny vo-tech trainer man in the nearby town, hitchhiked back (winning the driver's favor so greatly by having him drop me off at the temple to teach my monks that he gave me a tomato drink) and had a class with my saffron-robed fellows. We talked about temple dogs--those pour wretches of creatures. After class I meditated as usual. While inside the temple, the heavens opened and it began to rain. The ground heaved and I made a temporary pact with the temple dog that neither of us would bite the other as the power flickered and the heat rolled back.

The monks told me the rainy season had begun.

I've heard that before. I also heard that it only rains three times here:

June, July and August.