meditating among monks

In addition to the many experiences i had while in Bangkok, one of them was Wat Pho, the temple of the reclining Buddha. Ironic or not, the enormous statue of gold on it's side with feet called the Goddess of Pearl was not the memory i'll be taking away from the experience. Instead, it involves a situation you can really only stumble upon when you are by yourself in order to take advantage of it. My Japanese companions had left me just minutes before and it was at this time that i noticed a gentle bellied rumble, the continuous and communal chanting of monks. It is a sound that seems to make me always stop in my tracks, you cannot help but acknowledge the beauty of this sound. I peered into where the fervent hum was, and as if it was beckoning me to it, i found myself amongst the monks and a group of asian descendants meditating all together. The chant itself is something that i can only attempt to describe. The rise and fall of tones i cannot understand the words, but in that i feel i can draw that much more out of the experience. For unlike other religions where you are told what to say when you pray, the words become empty; whereas when you have a chant, you seemingly encouraged to put your own words to the gentle rolling tones. It only lasted for moment, or so it seemed, i was entranced and sucked into the mystery and compelling nature of this practice. I can only imagine that in time i'll come to seek it out, rather than how it happened to find me as it did this time.