DEFINING HAPPINESS FROM KALAW TO INLE - MYANMAR

It must have been about 5am when the monks started their chanting. They sat just outside my sleeping area which was enclosed by large, hanging sheets. The light that radiated from the candles cast shadows of the monks’ bodies on the sheets and the illuminations danced as the light flickered. It was a surreal way to wake from sleep and begin the day, even though I had been up for most of the night with a high fever and unforgivable body pains. I had been sweating profusely through my clothes and found only minor solace in the fetal position. I welcomed the chanting as not only a spiritual awakening but also having delivered the end of a miserable and disturbed night.

I cursed myself for not having been better prepared for my arrival into Kalaw two days earlier. It was about 3 am when the bus had reached Kalaw and as I stepped off I knew immediately that I wasn’t nearly prepared for how cold it was. I made my way to the hostel with which I had reservations, only to find it closed. I found a teashop on the main stretch of road and as I cradled my cup of tea, I waited desperately for the sun to show its presence. I had arranged a three day trek with a local guide to Inle Lake, starting in Kalaw, with overnight stays in a village and a monastery, the latter of which I was most excited for. My guide was a fast walker and we covered a lot of ground in short time but this left plenty of downtime at the end of the day which I enjoyed thoroughly, especially at the village. “Are you happy?” one of the girls from the village asked animatedly as we sat together watching the sunset.

I was initially taken aback by this somewhat loaded question. Normally, such an inquiry was posed by a loved one or someone who was very dear to me and usually in line with a serious circumstance that warranted such a question. I wasn’t sure if it was just one of the English phrases she had learned to say or if her curiosity about my happiness was as lighthearted as she made it out to be. Either way, she had reminded me of a feeling that been vigorously bubbling within me and now suddenly exposed with a single question. “Yes! I am happy”, I responded cheerfully, haven’t being this sure of myself about anything in a very long time.

I was reminded of it again as I sat huddled against the monastery walls listening to the monks, under layers of clothing and blankets. My fever had dropped slightly but I was still feeling nauseous and weak. I was indeed in a dire state but as I stared at the silhouettes of the monks carved in the darkness, rocking back and forth to the echoing sounds of their own prayer, I was certain of my happiness and I wanted nothing more than to be exactly where I was. This wasn’t a happiness that would remain only moments before fleeing - it was grounded in my knowing that everyday I was experiencing something for the first time and nothing was so familiar that it was taken for granted.