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A rough draft of the spiritual autobiography of Joseph B Wilson. The history that lead to Toteg Tribe.
Copyright 2003 by Joseph B Wilson
In Thailand it is the custom for every male to be ordained as a monk at least once in his lifetime.
The time spent in a Wat (a Thai Buddhist monastery) could be as little as one day, or as much as
the rest of the man's life. Regardless of the amount of time spent as a monk, it was a social stigma
not to fulfill that custom.
After a couple of months with Som I let her know that I wanted to spend my three day R and R as a
monk in a Wat. She made the arrangements and I went to a Wat about 50 kilometers away where I
was ordained in the traditional fashion -- my hair and eyebrows shaved off, and I was presented
with a wooden begging bowl. I didn't understand the words that were spoken, (this was, in part, a
taking of vows of chastity and poverty) but was prompted what to respond and when and managed
to stumble through it.
I was assigned to be taught by another, an expatriate American who had decided to spend his life
as a monk. At least I could understand his language!
Our days were simple. Every morning at 4 AM we would be awakened by a gong, perform our
toilet, and take our begging bowls to the street. We'd walk along the roadway and people would
come out of their homes and place small balls of rice, and sometimes dried fish or squid, in our
begging bowls in return for our blessing. Later we'd return to the Wat and meditate in front of
gigantic images of Buddha.
Then we would do the chores of sweeping and cleaning the Wat and its icons.
At 10 AM we would sit and eat that which we had been given early in the morning. The meals were
taken slowly, as a part of the meditation process. As an example my mentor told me to
concentrate on the food, to think about where it came from, every step, to feel the taste, and to
visualize how it digested and became one with my body. That was our only meal of the day.
Most of the afternoon was taken up with meditation, each monk doing as he was able. My mentor
merely had me focus on my body until I became one with the discomfort in my joints from sitting in
a half lotus posture. It's interesting that when I meditated that way the discomfort didn't last long. He
also taught me to focus on my breathing and to imagine what it did for my body in much the same
way as I was supposed to do with the food.
At the end of my third day I went through another ceremony where I was stripped of my ordination,
and released from my vows of poverty and chastity. I gave away my begging bowl to another new
monk before I left, though I kept my saffron colored robes.
I feel like I became a better person for that experience. Although I have maintained a love and
respect for Buddhism I never felt appropriate practicing it outside of it's home continent.
One evening not many days after I returned from the Wat Som (the girl I lived with off base) and I
heard a commotion at one of the neighbor's bungalows. We went over there to see what was
going on and saw a woman writhing on the floor in what looked to me to be an epileptic fit. Several
people were standing around watching. I was the only white person.
Som asked me if I knew what was happening. I couldn't explain, so looked up epilepsy in our little
Thai-English/English-Thai dictionary and showed her the word. She shook her head violently, took
the dictionary and showed me the Thai word that translated into devils or bad spirits. Within a few
minutes a middle aged Thai man appeared. He wore a head band with small feathers in it, as well
as a red and white checked pacama (a garment worn something like a towel would be worn by a
man just out of a shower), a small pouch on a strap around his neck, and carried a rattle. He began
shaking the rattle over the woman's writhing body and singing some kind of a chant. While he was
shaking the rattle and chanting he took rice out of his pouch and sprinkled it over the woman's
body. After about 10 to 15
minutes of this the woman stopped shaking and got up, seemingly normal.
Som said the man had sent the bad spirit away. Then she said, "No same same Buddha, same
same Lao." I was definitely interested in what he was doing and who he was, but the language
barrier made it impossible for me to talk to him. I was able to witness his working on others for
different problems several times after that.
During my year in Thailand I kept up a correspondence with Bill and Helen Mohs who were
handling The Waxing Moon for me. Although we had never met in person our friendship grew.
When I got my orders to be shipped to the 1370th Photo Mapping Wing at Forbes AFB, Topeka,
Kansas I notified Bill and Helen and we arranged for me to meet them in Los Angeles on my way
back. In late December, 1967 I left Thailand for the United States.
