Roadblock after roadblock, roadblock after roadblock, and the black clad special forces with m16s slung around their necks on street corners and behind concrete balustrades guide us into a region of strife. A number of years ago I attended a riot in Bangkok the day before my first appearance on Thai Fight, another example of the volatility of the Thai political spectrum. Here, the violence exists because territorial and ideological separatists wish to be free of Bangkok‘s rule and under the dominion of their Muslim brothers in Malaysia.
Currently we reside in Narathiwat, we are three, and in 2 days myself and Gabriel Mazzetti shall fight on Top King World Series here. I face multiple Lumpini and Channel 7 champion, Pongsiri por Siripong, a Thai with near superhuman resilience and will to win. Gabriel shall fight in the 4-man tournament, days after returning from the IFMAs world games in Poland (where he attained a bronze medallion).
Recently, Sutai has seen a run of success. Alex Macgregor and Allan Antonio Batista, both after completing gruelling weight cuts, triumphed in the first rounds of their respective tournaments. Martin Avery has returned to the camp to pursue his goal of winning a title in the home of Muay Thai, and the gym has been benefitting from inspired health foods served inexpensively in the Sutai kitchen.
Oftentimes I catch the tension of momentary anxieties harrying my mind; thoughts of death, or the inherent loneliness of life, but given several deep breaths freeing my consciousness of these chains my focus widens and I find that almost wherever it settles on this path I find memories of value and worth. Moments bright with awe spent overlooking tropical bays, or the joy and elation of visiting some new town or city come easily in this relaxed state and soon dispel any fragments of self doubt which remain. For in this short span we call life, who has time to doubt themselves? Why not give freely and trust in the goodness that shall bring?
Recently I dreamt of a small grey owl with yellow beak and eyes, whose gaze fixated on mine, and into the forest near our friend’s home we would venture, an escape from the dingy underground fight venues and blinding camera flashes. On my shoulder he would hop and into these woods we would trot, content in the quiet solitude of that place, I saw wisdom and innocence in that small face.
Soon however, our idyllic new friendship was shattered when three monkeys invaded our rural garden home; indignant at the audacity of these three my new friend made immediate his attack, and though I recognised them I was powerless to restrain him in his courageous sacrifice. The largest of the three, hateful and bulbous, was quick to dispatch my small guardian, in vain was his attack, for of those three I was their creator – they were my greed, deceit and envy – and I knew at my feet lay responsibility as well as soon his small and punctured body.
This dream however left no time to mourn such loss, though it was apparent to me it’s meaning, for already it was late and the time was near to fight again. Time does not wait, and no moment can be spared, for when one’s purpose is greater than oneself, only submission to the grand sacrifice of this life, in the hope of creating a legacy which might inspire others to follow their dreams – no matter what – can suffice.
Do not allow the monkeys of the past to destroy the small wisdom of your present.