Same Same, Different

Mangoes, memory, and 2,000 years of perspective.

Phuket and nearby islands

Just getting back from Thailand.

I’m reminded how joyful it is to set the out-of-office auto-reply.

Mangoes had almost a spicy cinnamon bite. Coconuts were felled from nearby trees, then cracked open for 50 baht (about $1.50). Each food cart had its own version of pad thai—some more peanutty, others leaning soy. The landscapes felt surreal, like a Chinese watercolor still dripping with aliveness.

And I have never sweated so much in my life.

I am savoring time with my family in a different way. My oldest daughter heads to college this fall. Time sits closer to the surface when the horizon of change is this clear.

I also brought a book I return to often—Chuang Tzu, translated by Thomas Merton.

There’s something grounding about reading a perspective from over 2,000 years ago. A kind of same same, but different. Striving. Power. A questioning of what matters.

Life isn’t resolved—just seen with renewed eyes.

I want to travel more. I’m dreaming into a series exploring places where land, food, and culture are shared—what some might call community gardens.

Here are two poems—from before and after the trip.

Before vacation…

Not Peace

The absence of conflict 
Is not peace 
I was reminded 
Again 

My sanctuary 
Of systems
And firewalls 
And protocols 
Was easily penetrated 

I thought I had created
Clear mental 
And emotional boundaries 

I thought I put in  
The somatic work 

But one email 
Dissolved the illusion

Messy people—
Really, one person—
Wreaked havoc
On the calm 
I thought I had created

Am I naive 
Or overly optimistic 
About the human condition? 

Do I hold some fundamental belief 
That we can get along
That the world 
Keeps making me question?

Or is the arrow of suffering
A gentle reminder:
 
The heart is alive 
And loving kindness
Is a daily practice

And I am 
In the arena 
Of humanity 
Not aloof 
Or distant 

Here, I am now 
Present 
To the first arrow sent 
That was not mine
And the ones that followed
That probably were

Wat Mahathat Temple

After vacation…

Chuang Tzu

Top down 
Hierarchy of obedience 
Met his side eye 
And gnarled tree
With no use 

I wonder
What he would say
To this age 
Of techno babel
And babble 
Of fountain heads

A time
Where intelligence
Is mined
Like raw materials, 
Creating 
Pits of zeroes and ones
Making an endless hole
Of belonging 

Would he call profit 
The new emperor?

He might ask
About real 
Babbling brooks 
Bending between 
Shouts of 
"Touch some grass"
And 
"The sky is falling" 

Has anything changed 
In 2000 years,
Or does the squint 
Of his side eye 
Cut even 
Closer? 

Would he still 
Draw upon the Dao
Or ChatGPT?

Or would he 
Find the muddy
Banks of a forgotten 
River 
And escape 
The royal courting 
Of everything 
On demand 
Intoxicated with a nostalgia 
For a destiny
That was never
Meant to manifest

And see

Humans continue
To be human
And the Dao continues
To be the Dao