Luang Prabang- Laos, January 8, 2006

The chickens and roosters are crowing outside..waking me up in the early hours of the morning. It's the third day in a row I've risen at this time and I still feel the excitement of the first day. The first day of the unknown.

As I wake and stretch my legs, my weary eyes beckon me to fall back into bed but I will not obey. I dress quickly and open the door to find darkness for it is 5:30 AM. I am use to the call of nature with it's breeze, birds and the hint of breakfast cooking in the small lighted windows. It is a welcoming feeling, fresh with it's small chill and slight signs of life.

On the first day, I hurried in the darkness, feet fighting to find bearings amongst the darkness of the tree path. Body and soul not wanting to miss
"the giving".

As the sun slowly rises the sky turns from black to grey and the vision of the sun is mearly a speck of orange, not yet willing to give it's full glow to the morning. It has been the same sight for the last three days, it has been my awaking.

On this third day, just before entering town, I see the flashes of orange gathering on the steps. It could have been a flash of the sunrise were it not for the movement of the robes. As I pass, I give them a smile and greeting. I give it hastidly in an effort not to disturb them.

Just a few steps away, there is a woman. The familiar white hair is bowed as she kneels in wait. She holds a bowl made out of straw and a similiar one sits to her side.

On the opposite side of the street their is a handful of tourist. Their curiousity easily visible with their stance. As I greet the old woman, her eyes twinkle and the curiousity from across the street can now be heard in their low whispers. It must be the curiousity of a western woman, taking off her shoes, kneeling next to the old woman. The bewilderment of two new friends.

Within seconds, there is a stream of orange. It comes without a sound, there is no rustle from the robes or sounds of greetings from the lips. It flows like a river, winding it's way through the streets, giving life on earth as the sun rises and gives life to the sky.

The wave of Monks moves quickly as they await the gift of rice to be placed in their large copper pot. As I did the days prior, I greet each one individually with a smile and a well wishing gesture. I await to see a response but the river continues to flow and the old woman encourages me to keep pace with my giving of rice.

At the end of the river, I extend my greeting and smile with the last bit of rice morsels. As I place the small lump in the big copper pot, I look up and find a smile and the old woman who has become my friend, touches my hand.

In that instant, they have given me everything....they have given me JOY.

(Pictures to come)