Whispers of the Rainforest, a New Chapter of Healing
The rainy season in Chiang Mai's mountainous region drenches everything in a drenching green. Li Xiaoyu and Nopparat rode in the back of a battered pickup truck, bumping along a muddy mountain road for three hours before arriving at the Karen village of Ban Pong.
Far from the hustle and bustle of Bangkok, here there are only the sounds of roosters crowing, dogs barking, the wind rustling through banana leaves, and a near-stagnant silence. The village is built on the hillside, with stilt houses scattered around, and the air is filled with the unique aroma of firewood and plants.
Their guide on this trip was Anan, a young sociology student at Chiang Mai University and nephew of Luang Pu Deen. He whispered, "Things have been going on in Ban Pong lately. Several young men have returned from working in the city and have behaved strangely—not talking, not going out, and sometimes suddenly bursting into violent shouting. The village maya (witch doctor) is helpless."
When the trauma of modern society struck the souls of ancient tribes, traditional wisdom felt powerless for the first time.
They first visited the village's old Moya. The old man was gaunt and wiry, his face covered in tattoos symbolizing tribal wisdom, but his eyes held a hint of fatigue and confusion. Through Anan's translation, he pointed to a young man huddled in a corner with a hollow look in his eyes. He said, "His 'Khwan' (soul) is lost. It's not in the mountains, and I can't call it back. If he returns from that... that 'steel city,' he won't be able to find his way home."
Li Xiaoyu noticed that Old Moya spoke of cities with awe and distance. He was well-versed in treating people frightened by mountain ghosts and comforting those rebuked by ancestral spirits, but his rituals and herbal remedies were ineffective against a form of psychological trauma known as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), stemming from the factory assembly lines and interpersonal conflicts in cities.
Just as everyone fell silent, a cold voice came from the doorway: "Perhaps, it's not that 'Khwan' is lost, but that it is entangled by too many 'new ghosts'."
The visitor was a middle-aged woman in her forties, dressed in simple cotton clothes, with a sharp, calm gaze. Anan introduced her in a low voice: "Teacher Bixi, the only high school student in the village. She later worked as a nurse in Bangkok and returned because her father was seriously ill."
Bixi walked in and, without looking at Li Xiaoyu and Nopparat, spoke directly to Old Moya, "Uncle, what they saw and experienced in the city is completely different from what we have here. The 'ghosts' there don't live in the forest, but in people's hearts. Your rituals can't reach them."
Old Moya's face darkened. The dignity of the tribe had been challenged. The atmosphere instantly became tense.
The collision between the new and the old takes place not only between cultures, but also within cultures.
Li Xiaoyu sensed this subtle tension. Rather than trying to mediate, she turned to Bixi and said, "Teacher Bixi, you understand both the mountains and the world beyond. How do you think we can help these young people?"
Bixi studied Li Xiaoyu for a moment before slowly speaking, "You came from China, bringing your own methods with you. We have our own traditions. But right now, it seems both approaches have failed." She paused, gesturing out the window at the lush rainforest. "Perhaps the answer lies with this forest, and with these trapped children themselves."
This proposal became an opportunity to break the deadlock. Li Xiaoyu decided to temporarily put all pre-set plans on hold and settle down in the village to engage in the most in-depth "field coexistence".
They no longer go to interviews as "experts", but as learners, participating in the villagers' daily lives: learning to identify edible fungi and wild vegetables from the women, listening to the elders sitting around the fire pit telling myths and legends about the tribe's migration, and watching children playing carefree in the stream.
During this process, Li Xiaoyu keenly observed that although those young people with "problems" were indifferent to the Maya rituals, when the old hunters in the village talked about how to determine the direction in the dense forest by observing the footprints of wild animals and the direction of the wind, a faint light would occasionally flash in their empty eyes.
One evening, Aliang, the young man with the most serious condition, suffered another emotional breakdown and began banging his head against a wooden post, causing his family to panic. Old Moya's attempts to comfort him were ineffective, and Bixi's attempts to persuade him with modern medical knowledge were also futile.
Amid the chaos, Li Xiaoyu didn't approach. Instead, he gestured for Nopparat to pick up the Saw Duang drum he carried with him, a staple in traditional Karen rituals, and began beating it. The drum beat was deep and distant, not as cheerful as during celebrations, but rather mimicking the rhythm of a heartbeat, steady and repetitive.
At the same time, she asked Bixi to sing an ancient Karen folk song about a wandering child returning home, while she guided Aliang's family in the ancient tribal way of comforting a frightened child: they all gently patted his back and arms, forming a close, physical circle of support.
No one gave any instructions, but in this unique scene that combined the rhythm of traditional rituals, the emotions of local language and modern contact therapy, Aliang's mania gradually subsided and he eventually fell asleep in his mother's arms.
When the method returns to its essence, the form will have the power to transcend culture.
This scene deeply shocked everyone present, especially Old Moya and Bixi. They saw each other's limitations, but also the possibility of integration.
Afterwards, a truly equal dialogue began by the fire pit at Old Moya's house. Li Xiaoyu, Nopparat, Old Moya, Bixi, and Anan sat together.
"Uncle Maya's ceremony can connect them to their roots and give them a sense of belonging," said Li Xiaoyu.
"Teacher Bixi understands the trauma they have experienced and can understand what those 'new ghosts' are," Nopparat added.
"Modern psychology can provide tools for understanding trauma mechanisms and stabilizing emotions." Li Xiaoyu took out a tablet computer and demonstrated some animations of simple breathing relaxation and emotion naming techniques.
This time, Old Moya didn't reject it. He pointed at the twisted red monster in the animation that represents anxiety and thought, "This is like being possessed by a 'Phi Pop' (the evil ghost that eats entrails)."
Bisi also let go of her prejudices. She found that the villagers were more likely to understand and accept complex psychological symptoms when she used the tribe's familiar concepts of "souls" and "ghosts" to explain them.
Based on the wisdom of these three parties, a new, indigenous "Rainforest Healing" program was born:
It uses the tribe's ancient "soul-hunting ceremony" as a framework and metaphor, giving the entire healing process a sense of cultural identity.
Modern narrative therapy is incorporated into it to guide young people to "concretize" their urban traumatic experiences into "new ghosts" that can be faced and dispelled.
Use nature activities such as forest hikes and river bathing as exposure therapy to reconnect with your homeland.
Bixi is responsible for teaching simple physiological balance skills (such as breathing and grounding techniques) to help stabilize emotions.
Finally, under the auspices of Maya, a "ghost-sending ceremony that integrates the old and the new" was completed, symbolically sending away the trauma and welcoming the return of "Khwan".
On the first day of the pilot program, Aliang and several other young people were led deep into the rainforest. Old Moya presided over a simplified ceremony, and then Bixi and Li Xiaoyu guided them in "depositing" their painful memories beneath a chosen "sacred tree." There were no immediate miracles, but on the way back to the village, Aliang offered to help an elderly villager.
A month later, when Li Xiaoyu and her team revisited Ban Pong, they saw a pleasing change. Aliang, though still silent, had begun helping his family repair farm tools, and a glimmer of life had returned to his eyes. Old Moya and Bixi had become a tacit partner, one leading the spiritual ceremony while the other provided follow-up psychological support.
Before leaving, Old Moya, with his tattooed hands, handed Li Xiaoyu a small packet of herbs wrapped in banana leaves and said through Anan, "This is a token of gratitude. You didn't bring us the answers, but you helped us regain the courage to find them."
Bixi said to Li Xiaoyu, "I understand now that healing is not about one replacing the other. It's like the vines and trees in the rainforest, relying on each other to grow together."
On the return trip in the pickup truck, Li Xiaoyu filled her notebook with observations and reflections. She realized that the foundation's future path to internationalization should not be a "seeder" but a "grafting technique"—finding the healthy "rootstock" in local culture, then carefully grafting proven modern psychology onto it, allowing it to grow its own branches and leaves and bear fruit that suits local tastes.
The pickup truck drove out of the mountains and back onto the flat road. Li Xiaoyu looked back at the deep rainforest, shimmering in the golden-green light of the setting sun. She knew that within that ancient green, a new chapter of healing was slowly unfolding, being created by the locals themselves.
Her mission is to carry the humility and wisdom she has learned from the depths of the rainforest to the next place that needs "listening" rather than "guidance."
Wisdom has no patent; it is scattered in every corner of the world, waiting for humble discoverers.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
