Post by Admin on Jul 26, 2004 16:46:58 GMT -5
A Sense of Wonder on Route 13
contributed by rockman
The rugged, jungle-cloaked mountains in front swing to the left, then to right and then back again as the rickety old bus winds its way up the steep pass. Myself and fellow passengers - a happy mix of villagers, Buddhist monks and western backpackers, are feeling the weight of the midday heat as we trundle up Route 13 towards the ancient town of Luang Prabang in northern Laos. Laos, by the way, is a little-known, landlocked country in south-east Asia, nestling between China, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. As we near the crest of the pass, the music in my headset kicks in:
Standing on the highest hill with a sense of wonder,
You can see that everything was made in God.
Head back down the roadside and give thanks for it all.
As the bus twists and turns through the saw-tooth mountain tops, I take time out to absorb the awesome beauty of the karst limestone formations that tower above us. In an uncanny way, the words and music from the Van Morrison CD fuse with the natural beauty of the landscape, reinforcing the sense of wonder. Although Morrison’s spiritual beliefs are not always clear, there is no denying he uses his immense musical talents to acknowledge and glorify God in a way that would put some evangelical Christians to shame. A little later in the same CD, the sense of wonder theme is picked up again.
Didn’t I come to bring you a sense of wonder?
Didn’t I come to lift your fiery vision bright?
For me, these lines echo John 10:10 where Jesus proclaims he has come to bring us abundant life. However, an insatiable appetite for soap operas and puerile game shows has somewhat deadened our appreciation of the joy and wonder of the abundant life on offer. As C.S. Lewis remarks in Shadowlands, we seem to have lost life’s sense of magic. At the end of the track Morrison recalls his early Belfast days with nostalgia. pastie suppers,…. gravy rings, Wagon wheels, barmbracks, snowballs… suggesting even the ordinary things that make up the essence of life contain an element of wonder. At this my mind drifts backs to my own childhood in the back streets of Belfast when such culinary delights were also an integral part of existence. It was then whilst browsing through a musky school atlas that a young boy with dreams of exotic lands encountered a strange country called Laos for the first time.
The lurching of the bus as it pulls to a stop north of Vang Vieng jolts me from my reverie as an escort of government soldiers board cradling AK-47 rifles. Here is a stark reminder of a brutal incident earlier in the year when Hmong rebels ambushed a crowded bus on this section of road using M-16s and grenade launchers. A total of 12 people were killed including two Europeans. The reason for the massacre is rooted in the 60’s and 70’s when the civil war in Laos was a sideshow to the main theatre of conflict in neighbouring Vietnam. The CIA trained and equipped the Hmong hill tribes to counter the communist forces of the Pathet Lao, backed by the north Vietnamese. When Laos fell to the communists in 1975, the Hmong were left to face the music. To this day, a militant minority of Hmong are warring against what they see as a CIA betrayal and subsequent persecution by the Laos government.
Meanwhile back on the bus, the soldiers casually squat on the numerous sacks of rice that clutter up the aisle and we’re ready to roll again. It’s comforting to see that none of the other passengers look particularly perturbed. By this time, the catchy melody and haunting harmonica of Enlightenment are filling my mind. In this track, Morrison makes an acerbic attack on eastern mysticism, and on Buddhism in particular. He is obviously disenchanted with his flirtation with a religion that not only denies the reality of suffering but encourages its followers to create their own reality and run free in it. On this thought, my attention is drawn to the novice monk, shaved head and dressed in a bright orange sarong, making his way to the front of the bus. Like his friends, the young man had been given leave from his monastery to return home for the Awk Phansa festival. As he shoulders his bundle of belongings past the AK-47s I’m reminded that it’s by the grace of God we go.
The shadows are lengthening now as we leave the mountains behind and race down on to the plains. Here the pastoral landscape is bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon. The emerald rice paddies with thatched bamboo homesteads, coconut palm groves and banana plantations make for a serene setting. Along the roadside, large, pancake-shaped baskets of red chilli peppers are drying in sun. My CD has gone full loop and I’m relaxing to the orchestral strains of Coney Island. On a sunny autumn day far away, Van the Man is taking a leisurely drive through the rolling, Irish countryside. Turning to his travelling companion he says,
“Wouldn’t it be great if it was like this all the time?”
Yes, wouldn’t it just?
[shadow=red,left,300]Notes:[/shadow]
Van Morrison - Belfast-born singer/songerwriter/musician, has been around
since the early 60's. Best known for the songs "Brown-eyed girl" and "Have
I told you lately (that I love you).
Gravy rings, Wagon Wheels, barmbracks, snowballs - common Northern Ireland
bread and cakes. Gravy ring (like a doughnut), Wagon wheel (large wheel-shaped,
chocolate covered biscuit/cookie), barmbrack (bread/cake with raisins),
snowballs (a cake the size and shape of snowball with icing and coconut
on the outside).
Coney Island - this place name originated in Northern Ireland - it's a small
coastal village in County Down. (By the way, Hollywood also got it's name
from Northern Ireland. Holywood (one l) is a small seaside town near Belfast.
contributed by rockman
The rugged, jungle-cloaked mountains in front swing to the left, then to right and then back again as the rickety old bus winds its way up the steep pass. Myself and fellow passengers - a happy mix of villagers, Buddhist monks and western backpackers, are feeling the weight of the midday heat as we trundle up Route 13 towards the ancient town of Luang Prabang in northern Laos. Laos, by the way, is a little-known, landlocked country in south-east Asia, nestling between China, Myanmar, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam. As we near the crest of the pass, the music in my headset kicks in:
Standing on the highest hill with a sense of wonder,
You can see that everything was made in God.
Head back down the roadside and give thanks for it all.
As the bus twists and turns through the saw-tooth mountain tops, I take time out to absorb the awesome beauty of the karst limestone formations that tower above us. In an uncanny way, the words and music from the Van Morrison CD fuse with the natural beauty of the landscape, reinforcing the sense of wonder. Although Morrison’s spiritual beliefs are not always clear, there is no denying he uses his immense musical talents to acknowledge and glorify God in a way that would put some evangelical Christians to shame. A little later in the same CD, the sense of wonder theme is picked up again.
Didn’t I come to bring you a sense of wonder?
Didn’t I come to lift your fiery vision bright?
For me, these lines echo John 10:10 where Jesus proclaims he has come to bring us abundant life. However, an insatiable appetite for soap operas and puerile game shows has somewhat deadened our appreciation of the joy and wonder of the abundant life on offer. As C.S. Lewis remarks in Shadowlands, we seem to have lost life’s sense of magic. At the end of the track Morrison recalls his early Belfast days with nostalgia. pastie suppers,…. gravy rings, Wagon wheels, barmbracks, snowballs… suggesting even the ordinary things that make up the essence of life contain an element of wonder. At this my mind drifts backs to my own childhood in the back streets of Belfast when such culinary delights were also an integral part of existence. It was then whilst browsing through a musky school atlas that a young boy with dreams of exotic lands encountered a strange country called Laos for the first time.
The lurching of the bus as it pulls to a stop north of Vang Vieng jolts me from my reverie as an escort of government soldiers board cradling AK-47 rifles. Here is a stark reminder of a brutal incident earlier in the year when Hmong rebels ambushed a crowded bus on this section of road using M-16s and grenade launchers. A total of 12 people were killed including two Europeans. The reason for the massacre is rooted in the 60’s and 70’s when the civil war in Laos was a sideshow to the main theatre of conflict in neighbouring Vietnam. The CIA trained and equipped the Hmong hill tribes to counter the communist forces of the Pathet Lao, backed by the north Vietnamese. When Laos fell to the communists in 1975, the Hmong were left to face the music. To this day, a militant minority of Hmong are warring against what they see as a CIA betrayal and subsequent persecution by the Laos government.
Meanwhile back on the bus, the soldiers casually squat on the numerous sacks of rice that clutter up the aisle and we’re ready to roll again. It’s comforting to see that none of the other passengers look particularly perturbed. By this time, the catchy melody and haunting harmonica of Enlightenment are filling my mind. In this track, Morrison makes an acerbic attack on eastern mysticism, and on Buddhism in particular. He is obviously disenchanted with his flirtation with a religion that not only denies the reality of suffering but encourages its followers to create their own reality and run free in it. On this thought, my attention is drawn to the novice monk, shaved head and dressed in a bright orange sarong, making his way to the front of the bus. Like his friends, the young man had been given leave from his monastery to return home for the Awk Phansa festival. As he shoulders his bundle of belongings past the AK-47s I’m reminded that it’s by the grace of God we go.
The shadows are lengthening now as we leave the mountains behind and race down on to the plains. Here the pastoral landscape is bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon. The emerald rice paddies with thatched bamboo homesteads, coconut palm groves and banana plantations make for a serene setting. Along the roadside, large, pancake-shaped baskets of red chilli peppers are drying in sun. My CD has gone full loop and I’m relaxing to the orchestral strains of Coney Island. On a sunny autumn day far away, Van the Man is taking a leisurely drive through the rolling, Irish countryside. Turning to his travelling companion he says,
“Wouldn’t it be great if it was like this all the time?”
Yes, wouldn’t it just?
[shadow=red,left,300]Notes:[/shadow]
Van Morrison - Belfast-born singer/songerwriter/musician, has been around
since the early 60's. Best known for the songs "Brown-eyed girl" and "Have
I told you lately (that I love you).
Gravy rings, Wagon Wheels, barmbracks, snowballs - common Northern Ireland
bread and cakes. Gravy ring (like a doughnut), Wagon wheel (large wheel-shaped,
chocolate covered biscuit/cookie), barmbrack (bread/cake with raisins),
snowballs (a cake the size and shape of snowball with icing and coconut
on the outside).
Coney Island - this place name originated in Northern Ireland - it's a small
coastal village in County Down. (By the way, Hollywood also got it's name
from Northern Ireland. Holywood (one l) is a small seaside town near Belfast.