Burma

A couple of years ago I stood on a balcony of a great hotel over looking the golden triangle where Thailand, Laos and Burma meet at the Mekong River. It was hot and sweaty, really hot and sweaty. It was morning and their was a mist hanging over the river and the land. It was quite and it was beautiful. That day we went to the border of Thailand and "The Republic of Myanmar" - so the sign said. We stood there and debated if we wanted to cross that little bridge, walk past the guards with guns and grim looks on their faces so that we could get our passports stamped to show we had been there. Our guide said yes, we could do that. It would take us all day to walk across, get our passports signed and walk back and he would not go with us. As we wandered the border market we debated, we watched people cross that bridge. It really seemed like they crossed from the sunshine of Thailand across a little bridge covered in shadows into the dark. We ended up doing a little shopping and then riding away from that shadowy border. We were able to do this. The people that live there can't. They live in poverty and fear. Most monks I met in Asia radiate an inner peacefulness that seems to calm the air around them.

I can only imagine the power of thousands of them walking for change, for peace, for the people. Perhaps they will be able to help. I just hope they will not be killed.