천국으로 가는 아홉 사원9 Temples to Heaven

DIRECTING INTENTION

I grew up with my grandmother beside me, reciting long prayers every night before bedtime. My parents regularly went to temples to make merit and give donations. Instead of going to the beach, we made merit as our form of recreation. Like many Thais, we attend temples not to let go of our desires, but rather to accumulate good karma, almost like making a deposit in a bank. Buddhism is often viewed as a religion of peace, which is only partially true. In Thailand, its reality is more complex. It intertwines with Hinduism, Animism, and many other belief systems. Superstition remains one of its primary elements. With the increasing involvement of tourism, commerce, and politics, Thai temples seem to be becoming less and less focused on spiritual pursuits.

Thais are also deeply attached to the number 9. It is pronounced “kao” in Thai, which means to step forward or to progress. It is considered a magical number, partly because of its association with Thailand’s late King Bhumibol, Rama IX, who reigned for 70 years. The Thai monarchy has a close relationship with Thai Buddhism, and both institutions represent goodness in our society and are expected to be preserved and protected. Around the time of King Rama IX’s
passing in 2016, the political climate in Thailand shifted dramatically, also fueled by the military government that came to power through yet another coup. This has created fractures among Thais, including within my own family and circle of friends. Many feel that the country is trapped in a loop, and I cannot help but draw parallels with the nine-temple trips. We repeat the same cycle again and again, without necessarily moving toward prosperity. Yet temples remain popular, offering the promise of meaning, healing, protection, and something beyond our mundane and troubled lives.

‘9 Temples to Heaven’ was born out of these tensions, reimagining my own experiences traveling on temple trips with my family over many years. The film takes place in Samut Prakan, my hometown, a gateway city by the sea where Western ships first came into contact with Siam during the colonial period, and where the country’s main airport is located today. I see this place as one where traditional and modern ways of thinking diverge. After my grandmother passed away, I became more distant from my relatives, though my desire to connect with them remains strong. I realized that the temples and the journeys we took together were the times and places when we shared conversations, laughter, and truly bonded. The rituals, while their promised outcomes remain doubtful, serve a different purpose. They create a space for pause, for attention, and for being present. At the very least, they can nourish the heart in the face of uncertainty, if one allows them to.

Through the film, I also hope to honor families who, like mine, live within long-held traditions and beliefs. As family members, we each carry our own intentions and perspectives. We are like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that try, but often fail, to fit together into a complete picture. Still, as a family, we continue trying, out of care and love. The Buddha teaches that life is in constant flux, and that the present moment is only a fleeting part of a continuous flow. In this film, which appears to unfold over the course of a single day, time moves through changing light, from morning to evening, from natural to artificial light. It eventually gives way to darkness, awaiting the arrival of another dawn, another day.