A Burmese Points to More Work

I was climbing halfway up the Mahazedi stupa and looking up I can see smiling kids running around just under the Bell shaped rim. I start to engage the kids, then I heard a young man above them say, “You look like a woman.” He was perched up high looking down at me. I didn’t respond, did not look him the eye, plus I never let in stop me in my tracks. I figured out he was with the older group who pimped the smaller kids to charm the tourists out of money climbing the stupa in Bago. It was just a straight man’s call of dominance where I guess he felt some weakness. He had no intention to escalate his hatred. Hanging out on a stupa with a good view makes sense, but not when one figures out the real motive. Reaching the top of the stairs I look to the right and see a monk meditating while facing the stupa, and I continue to engage the younger boys, and look around while enjoying the view especially of the huge reclining Buddha looking very rested in the green in the distance.

I was hurt, his words kept replaying in my mind, and now I think I should thank him for this pointer of where I am still attached to me and mine. If he said them in Burmese I would have never known. I felt stupid for letting this continue and it was the only hassle, I had the whole five days in Myanmar. I had a great taxi driver I found in Yangon that drove me to most sites in Bago who was a great person.  Everybody I met those five days were great from kids to adults and I spent an hour talking to random strangers different nights while photographing night scenes. I felt welcomed, and never threatened. Then I began to see the hole that still remained even with all my meditation. I still had expectations to inspire people, to be included.... even with my injury. And I did with my communication and kindness with my taxi driver.


This hole also included the separation I feel by still not able to communicate well in spite of all the work I have done to date. As the sun set on the way home in the cab, I fell asleep exhausted from trying to ignore the words earlier. When I awoke, the driver and I discussed getting some Indian food, and he would not join me, because he had to eat with his wife when he got home. I offered to be dropped off to eat, but he insisted on waiting... to take me back to the hotel. A kind and generous man who I will hire again when I return with my partner. He drove me to a good place that served fast, and I hurriedly woofed it down so he could get home faster.  I still felt enough energy to walk after a quick shower and go shoot scenes that night(some you see here), ending with a rickshaw ride home by a handsome Burmese who patiently waited for me to finish a conversation I had with a local, by looking in my direction, to insure he had one last fare for the evening.

Dreams and Worries, Lucky Mak Mak

I have been trying as much as possible to get out of myself. You know the worry, the self-obsessed concern for ourselves? I spent Saturday doing things for others, going to lunch with my partner at one of his favorite places, buying him a better made shoulder bag for school knowing his last one fell apart in a year. While out and about we discussed his yearning for graduate school after he completes his bachelor’s degree at the end of this year. It was great to see him so enthusiastic, regardless of how hard these past two years have been with his crazy work schedule. Later in the day we in a joking mood and it carried for the afternoon during which I had some coffee while he had a shake. We returned to our place and knowing he was spent for the day, I left him to sleep and took off to shoot at night in Chinatown alone. I spent at least 5 hours shooting and walking, as it is hard to compose and focus when so much is interesting. If I can get 3 or 4 good photographs I feel accomplished. Towards the end of my shooting, I came upon a late night street sellers and food vendors, and found a great hand painted mug for my Buddhist teacher. Several times people would either shoe me away, or be curious and come watch me set-up and watch me shoot or offer to be in the shot. When I was feeling like my coffee from earlier was all spent, I grabbed a taxi back, to my awakened, smiling partner making sure I was ok.

That night I dreamt about an old friend who had come back to me after drinking poison in France to end his life to stay with me at my house, a true story. He has long since passed away, and it became more obvious why he came back to stay with me. In my dreams I looked at his life and loves, his parents never really loved him and nor his lovers . He was still bleeding out of mouth from the poison wounds when I saw him, and that I had to buy pillow covers special for his stay. His return was to the only love he once had, when we were together 10 years earlier even though he ended it abruptly back then. Now I realize you can’t love someone who doesn’t love themselves, and feel very fortunate to be with someone now who does with an eye on the future.