White Buddha, Green Earth

A quiet invitation to feel alive again.

The First Step

I tie my shoes. The morning is soft. Mist still lingers over the fields of Pai, as if the night isn’t quite ready to leave. The ground beneath my feet is damp from rain. I head out. No plan. Just the urge to be outside again. To my left, the old road. To my right, a rice field with gnarled cows. In between: stillness. No pressing heat. The air is light this morning, almost cool. Nothing like Chiang Mai. I’m wearing a light shirt, shorts, and my beloved yellow trail running shoes. My body exhales – finally moving again. Up on the hill, he sits – the White Buddha. Majestic. Vast. Silent. As if carved from the jungle itself. He watches, but doesn’t judge. Unless you see yourself in him. He just sits, like an ancient thought I had long forgotten.

The Path Calls

I take the path toward Long Neck Farm. Two dogs join me – not like strays, more like quiet companions. I walk, and they walk with me. The path narrows, passing huts made of tin and wood. Some painted. Some simply standing. I hear water. A narrow canal runs to my left – hand-dug, probably, feeding the fields. And then: the river. Wild, clear. With round stones where the water dances. I follow the flow. Each step pulls me deeper into something I’ve missed: nature, wildness, aliveness. I’m here with all my senses, and my cells are dancing.

Fire in The Field

To my right, on a small patch of land, stands a tin hut. No bigger than a tent. Smoke rises. A small fire burns. Someone is making tea. No Instagram moment. No staging. Just a human beginning their day. I stop. So this is what a good life looks like. Simple. Quiet. Connected. I’m moved. How beautiful and easy life can be. Almost like a painting.

Forest Within

The path grows wilder. Giant bamboo sways. Banana trees frame the way. I’m deep in green. Nothing but nature. No noise. No plan. Just breath. My steps, my energy, my strength, my intuition – and creativity. Inspired by the forest. Inside, I grow quiet. I no longer think about websites, or structure, or strategy. I just am. Breathing. Walking. Seeing. I hear the water, feel the sand beneath my feet, and sense my body remembering – Portugal. Or times when I was out for days with only a tent, notebook, and voice. Like now.

The Turn

A sign beside the trail: “May Yen Waterfall – closed due to forest fire risk.” I stop. Canal to my left. River to my right. Ahead, a bend in the path. A small shelter. A natural turning point. I lean on the railing. The dogs sit beside me. I smile. Everything is just as it should be.

What I Learn

I meant to turn back long ago. But the path kept calling, and I followed. Out of curiosity. And trust. Because something in me wanted to go further. Inside, something starts to glow. A knowing: This is what I want to share. Not “content.” Not “knowledge.” Not “value.” But this. Walking. Feeling. Sharing what’s real. And yes – all of it is in there. Value, perhaps. If you feel it. Recognition. Maybe. A remembering. Not information. But something deeper. Something true.

The Line Stays

„Happiness is only real when shared.“ I think of the line from Into the Wild, of the man on the bus, of his last words. And I nod. Because I know it’s true. I could keep this morning to myself. But it would fade. Only in sharing does it truly come alive.

You

Maybe this reminds you of your own path. Maybe tomorrow you’ll tie your shoes again. Maybe you don’t need a plan – just one step. Then another. That’s enough. If this text called to you, it was meant for you. If you feel it, there’s a path in you, too. 🪵 Sit down. Or walk on.

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