We were meant to take the ‘trip of a lifetime’ back in March 2020 for Lisa’s (my long-haired boss’s) big birthday. But Covid had other ideas, and our friend Boris told us all to go to our rooms. So instead of the tropical island of Koh Samui, we celebrated in our back garden in sweet little Plymouth — how life has changed since then.
Back then, we joked, “We’ll go for your 55th!”
Well, here we are. Five years later. And we finally made it.
Thailand — and Asia more broadly — offers a culture very different from our Western European ways. And we love it.
The food, the weather, the people, the belief systems — it’s all so vibrant, so friendly, and yet strangely familiar. It’s a reminder that no matter how far we roam, we’re all pilgrims on this shared experience called life. An adventure not just of geography, but of biography — filling our lives like we fill our passports, with stamps and stories and snapshots of memory.
I’m a spiritual being on a human journey, and to live life fully is to experience it deeply — and that makes my soul soar.
Armed with Google Maps and my Universalis app, I hired a car and made my way to Mass in different places — Bangkok, Koh Samui, and Phuket. Driving in Thailand had always been a quiet fear of mine — it’s not for the faint-hearted! There is a Highway Code, sure, but it’s… flexible. Motorbikes are everywhere, often on pavements, going the wrong way or making their own. And yet, there’s a rhythm to the chaos. A thrill, even. The real reason I braved it? Some gentle encouragement from Lisa — and the truth that having wheels is the best way to explore.
What I love about going to church abroad is that it gives you a glimpse into the heart of local life — not the polished version in the guidebooks, but the lived one. I’ve always found Thai people incredibly warm, always quick with a smile. And yet, the cynic in me sometimes wonders: How genuine is that smile? How deep does that friendliness go?
And then, after Mass — over not just coffee, but often a full buffet — you meet the ‘real Thais’. The after-Mass gathering is always where the magic is. That’s the gem of community: meeting people living their faith in the mess and joy of everyday life.
It seems to me that in every community I’ve ever been part of, most people, most of the time, are friendly and welcoming — and happy to offer a sign of peace when the opportunity is invited.
Thailand may be a Buddhist country, but it welcomes all faiths. Statues and temples to Ganesh and Vishnu, which technically don’t belong in Buddhist doctrine, are lovingly woven into Thailand’s own version of spirituality. In one Bangkok shopping mall, we found an entire floor dedicated to Lord Shiva — right next to a Catholic store, a Muslim pop-up, a Tarot stall, and an astrologer’s booth. A beautiful mess of spiritual inclusivity. A living example of how diversity and equity can merge into a joyful, exuberant expression of shared humanity.
I’ve always held an interest in Buddhism, and I still have the little book I was gifted on my first visit to Thailand in 2005. It’s dog-eared now, but it calls to me often — like an old friend with timeless wisdom.
One teaching that’s always stayed with me is karma — not the cartoon version where bad people get their comeuppance, but the deeper idea of cause and effect. Every thought, every action, plants a seed. Karma isn’t fate. It’s responsibility.
I remember once, hurtling through Bangkok in a tuk tuk, caught in the wild rhythm of the city. I asked the driver, “Aren’t you ever worried?”
He shrugged: “Karma.”
I laughed: “What about your passengers?”
He smiled: “Once they step into my tuk tuk, our karmas are intertwined.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
He just said, “Whatever happens is meant to happen.”
That moment stuck with me.
In Christianity, we say, “Thy will be done.” It’s a kind of surrender — not to helplessness, but to something deeper. A letting go of ego. A trust in the unseen.
And in both teachings — East and West — I find the same truth:
We shape our path, but we don’t walk it alone.
Whatever happens is meant to happen.
Whatever doesn’t happen wasn’t meant to.
And what does happen — even when difficult — might just be the very thing our soul needs, though it’s not always easy to see.
So I turn inward — not to a symbol, but to an ideal: the strength of a balanced character.
The kind of peaceful steadiness that comes from surrendering ego, from grounding yourself in the now, from trusting both karma and grace.
Because in moments of chaos — like lying on a sun lounger in sunny Phuket while hearing of earthquakes in Myanmar and a building collapse in Bangkok — it’s not heroics that carry us through.
It’s presence. It’s steadiness.
It’s doing the next right thing even when no one’s watching.
It’s moving through life with care.
It’s planting good seeds even when the harvest is uncertain.
And it’s nurturing those seeds with love and patience so that, like the ones that fall on good soil (Matthew 13:23), they grow into something fruitful — a life lived in alignment with both karma and “Thy will.”
Because while our customs may differ, and our languages, and the gods we name — beneath it all, the heartbeats are the same.
People are people. Families are families. We laugh, we grieve, we pray, we hope.
The rituals may change — but the reverence, the questions, the desire to live meaningfully — that’s universal.
So today I ask myself:
Where can I be more grounded?
Where can I live with care, move with intention, and trust the process?
That’s the way forward. The way through.
Call it karma. Call it grace. Call it simply being human.
Namaste — and have a great day.
