The ruined temple town of Ayutthaya was wet from the afternoon rain. Many stone statues were pocked and headless from a raid one thousand years before. Buddhas, both with and without heads, were sashed in gold and orange and silent in their repose. But I had a question.
At Ayutthaya with 2 companions, I moved separately to feel the vibration of the temples, statues, and tombs around me. Each Buddha with his palm facing upward invited me to approach.
The tragedy and beauty of the site should have filled my mind. But that dwelled, instead, on the state of my relationship with my companion. I asked the Buddha, “Will we stay together?” I watched and waited for a sign but saw and heard nothing. I asked again, this time meditating on the Buddha’s ear.
As I ever so slightly squeezed my eyes closed, I suddenly heard a brash, nonsensical set of sounds that came from nothing and no one in view. I stared at him longer, and then I understood it to mean, “What will happen will happen.”
I felt dissatisfied with the answer. Where was his reassurance? Where was his denial? I had nothing and could tell no one what had happened.
Sixteen years later, I understand.
Lo Scriviti 
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