Hello everyone

Today was a pretty unusual day for our gang. Me, my kid, my sis, and her girl decided to hop over to Myanmar. Why? Well, we had this plan to do a good deed—giving out these Kathina festivals.

Now, my sister lives in this chill village right next to Myanmar. The only thing dividing her crib from theirs is the Moei River. It's like a natural fence or something.

But, here's the kicker. Going into Burma isn't a cakewalk these days. The Thai military's got this rule where regular folks like us can't just stroll over to the Burmese side. It's a safety thing, they say. Yet, there's this loophole for folks sending stuff to Burma. If you're shipping goods, you might get a free pass under special conditions.

My sister's the hero in this story. She's always shipping essentials to the Burmese side, so she's in on the special cases deal. That meant we had our ticket to cross the river, even though most folks couldn't.

As we geared up for the journey, there was this mix of excitement and nerves in the air. This wasn't just a physical trip; it felt like we were breaking down some invisible walls between countries. Our little group, loaded up with not just goods but this sense of togetherness, rolled out, knowing we might be stirring the pot a bit.

The Moei River, usually just minding its own business, suddenly became this connector for our mission. Crossing into Myanmar, the landscape changed, showing off its tradition and strength. Our group, a mishmash of ages and backgrounds, was standing tall, united in wanting to make a positive dent on the lives across the river.

As we hit Burmese soil, thanks to my sister's special pass, we couldn't help but appreciate the power of human bonds. Despite all the political drama, sending goods across borders turned out to be a sign that people could connect beyond politics.

In the heart of Myanmar, surrounded by folks who were all about our goodwill, we got that warm fuzzy feeling. Our plan to give out Kathin robes turned this journey into more than just crossing a river. It became a bridge between hearts, showing that kindness and giving a damn about each other don't care about borders.

About four years back, I stumbled upon this little village in Myanmar, just before the whole world got tangled up in the mess that is the COVID-19 pandemic. Back then, it was a different scene—Thais and Burmese folks freely crossing borders, just casually popping in to say hi.

Then came the COVID-19 bombshell. Thailand, understandably, decided to slam shut all those border joints. Safety first, you know? The idea was to keep the virus from spreading like wildfire, and also, there was this lingering worry about the ongoing clashes between Myanmar and its ethnic minorities. It's been a struggle that's gone on for years.

Now, here's the kicker: this itty-bitty village in Myanmar, right across the way from Thailand, never had any of those conflicts. It was like this little haven of peace amid the chaos. But, despite the lack of drama, Thailand put up the 'Sorry, We're Closed' sign.

It's weird, right? A tiny spot where life was just chugging along peacefully, but it got lumped into the whole lockdown deal. I guess that's how it goes when bigger issues are at play. Even the quiet corners of the world have to deal with the consequences of the broader struggles. So, this serene village, with its untold stories and untarnished peace, got cut off from its Thai neighbors, all because of a pandemic and the echoes of a long-standing conflict. Life's strange that way.

Around 9 a.m., our crew rolled up to the temple—a tiny sanctuary that seemed to be frozen in time. It was the one spot in this village that had transformed quite a bit since my last visit four years back. Back then, it was like a quiet haven, but now, it buzzed with life.

This small temple, seemingly immune to the slow dance of change in the village, had become a hub of activity. It was the only place that had evolved noticeably since my last stroll through the village lanes. As we approached, we could already sense the energy in the air, a magnetic pull drawing folks from all corners.

The temple, though modest in size, was the heart of the village's spiritual scene. It held a unique charm that had managed to withstand the hands of time. The scene that greeted us was striking—a stream of Myanmar people flowing in, a river of devotees converging to make merit. The once serene temple grounds now echoed with the sounds of footsteps and hushed conversations.

It was heartening to see the village come alive, especially around this temple that had managed to retain its essence despite the changes elsewhere. The air was thick with the shared intent of those who sought to make merit, their collective energy infusing life into the very stones of the temple.

Carrying with us not just good intentions but also a load of drinks and snacks, we decided to spread the goodwill beyond the temple's walls. Our destination was the almshouse, a place where generosity took on a tangible form. These provisions were destined for the folks attending the Kathin ceremony at the temple, a little extra something to sweeten the experience.

As we made our way to the almshouse, we found ourselves in the company of many others with the same mission. It was heartening to see a plethora of groups, each armed with their own offerings of food and drinks, all converging to make merit. The air buzzed with a shared sense of purpose, a collective desire to contribute to the joy of the ceremony.

We joined the ranks of those eager to contribute, finding our place among the numerous offerings. Trays of snacks, crates of drinks, and an assortment of treats created a colorful mosaic of generosity. It was a reminder that, beyond the individual acts of giving, there existed a collective tapestry of goodwill woven by the hands of many.

While the Kathin ceremony preparations were underway, I took a stroll around the temple grounds, curiosity guiding my steps. It wasn't long before my attention was captured by a staircase winding its way up to the heights of a nearby mountain. Intrigued, I decided to ascend and see what lay beyond.

As I climbed, the surroundings changed, and the hustle and bustle of the ceremony below gradually faded. At the summit, a small pagoda stood proudly, offering a serene contrast to the activity below. However, what truly caught my eye was a massive Buddha statue in the process of being built. Its grandeur hinted at an ambitious endeavor, though it remained unfinished, a work in progress against the vast sky.

From this elevated vantage point, the village unfolded before me like a living tapestry. What struck me most was the transformation that had occurred in the four years since my last visit. The landscape had changed, and new structures punctuated the horizon. It became apparent that the village had experienced significant growth.

A closer look revealed the influence of a group of Chinese residents who had taken the lead in establishing villages and factories. Their presence had sparked a period of expansion, and the small villages of the Myanmar people had swiftly evolved. The architectural evidence of this transformation sprawled across the landscape, reflecting the confluence of cultures and the impact of economic development.

The view from the mountaintop showcased not only the physical changes but also the interconnectedness of communities. The expansion, guided by the vision of those who spearheaded the development, spoke of a dynamic and evolving village life. It was a reminder that even in the quieter corners of the world, the forces of change and progress could leave an indelible mark on the landscape and the lives of the people who call it home.

As the Kathin procession reached the temple, I descended from the mountain to join the lively celebration. The air was charged with joy as the Myanmar people, with hearts full of happiness, sang and danced in harmony. The vibrant energy of the moment left me with a bittersweet realization—the profound contrast between the jubilant festivities and the harsh realities of the world.

Amidst the melodies and dance steps, a sense of melancholy settled within me. It was a stark reminder that, in this moment of shared joy, the world outside was often marred by conflicts and wars. The vivid display of unity and happiness among the Myanmar people underscored the simple truth: there should be no place for war in our shared human experience.

As the procession wound its way through the temple grounds, I couldn't help but reflect on the collective desire for peace that resonated in the songs and laughter. The celebration became a poignant plea for a world where the beauty of diversity and the richness of cultures could be appreciated without the shadows of conflict.

The stark contrast between the harmonious Kathin procession and the global struggles reinforced the idea that, despite our differences, the shared human experience should be one of unity and understanding. In the midst of the celebration, I found myself silently echoing the sentiment—there should be no war in this world, only the echoes of joy, laughter, and the dance of diverse cultures coming together in harmony.

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