Sunday, November 14, 2010

November





It's been a while, hasn't it?  Hope this update finds you all in good spirits, health, and fortune.  


I'm well.  Every day is so different from the last one, which is good.  I still wake up some days and feel like I live among aliens.  Or maybe I'm the alien?  That's sounds about right.  It's just so very different here, and in a good way most of the time.  I don't know, you should see for yourself (this is the part where you stop reading this and research airfare).  


One thing I will say is it's easy to feel alone here.  I have been fortunate to make many wonderful friends, and it's rare that a single day goes by when I don't see one of them.  But no matter how many friends or acquaintances you come upon in this place, you will never feel so completely and utterly alone in your life.  The kind of alone where you feel like you're drowning a little bit.  Every day is a roller coaster. One minute I'm laughing at a table full of people and the next minute I'm driving home with nothing but worrisome thoughts.  "What am I doing with myself?"  


What do we want?  There's an interesting topic and a reoccurring theme in my life the last few months.  We make decisions every day, don't we?  We walk into Starbucks or some other over-priced coffee joint and know that we want a tall, low-fat caramel macchiato.  We know we want a nice cell phone or those shoes we saw at Macy's last week.  And we make decisions about these little, insignificant things... because we know what we want.  We also know what we are capable of.  Well, lately I've been struggling with figuring out what it's going to take to make myself happy.  What I want for the rest of my life.  What preparations, steps, advances do I need to make now in order to get there?  I'm at the proverbial fork in the road.  And I'm sitting in the middle of the damn road.  


The problem with transitional periods is they give us so much time to reflect.  Reflection is a healthy thing in moderation, much like alcohol and Haribo gummy worms.  But when that's all you do day in and day out, it's going to eat your soul.  The past can haunt you, and I'm not even referring to bad memories or bad feelings.  Just the past, in general.  The good, the bad, and the nothing.  There have been regular neuron misfirings in my brain as of late.  I will be having a discussion with someone and then some random, obscure memory will cloud my brain.  And it's not even one of those situations where you see the "connection" or where you are reminded of something.  It's a completely unexplainable, even out-of-body experience where you wonder why you just thought about that one guy you met at a bar over the summer who never said anything profound or worth remembering, but something about the way he walked was intriguing.  And now you're picturing his intriguing walk in your mind while you stare at this 400 year-old temple in the cold, pelting rain.  


Transitional periods are slippery.  You can never quite catch your footing.  You're a different person from one day to the next.  I'm fortunate in that I like who I'm becoming here.  I like who I am, but I miss who I was sometimes.  The simplicity of my life before all of this distance seems like a far-off memory.  And I can't help but wonder, is this life?  The constant pining for previous simplicity?  


I selfishly ponder all of this.  Then later I go to a little food stand on the side of the road and watch a little boy who is all of 5 years old help his mom sweep up cockroaches while she prepares my soup.  He has one toy.  It's an old, crusty batman figurine.  My eyes go from the boy to the roaches to batman to his weary mother.  I think about his future.  What will this kid amount to?  What opportunities will be afforded to him?  Is his future in this broken-down food stand?  And that's when I feel ashamed for ever complaining or worrying or wondering.  That's when I am just happy to have my soup.  That's when my typically American, egocentric brain shuts up.


So, I was riding in the mountains the other day trying to scrounge up some video footage.  I didn't find a whole lot of footage, but I did find a puppy.  I was riding along, taking in the scenery, when I spotted this brown and white beagle-looking puppy running down the road.  I was in a pretty secluded area full of palm trees and rice paddies.  I stopped my scooter and got off.  Immediately the puppy ran to me and did what puppies do... melt your heart.  I looked around for any sign of life-- anyone who might claim ownership of this helpless creature.  Nothing.  I gave it some water and cursed myself for not being smart enough to have any food on me (you should always have something in your bag, in case you should come across a puppy or something).  The clock ticked and before I knew it I spent almost an hour sitting on the side of the road with this dog. 


He just sat next to me and stared at me with these huge, brown eyes.  Despite being a puppy, he wasn't very puppy-like.  There was this strange air of wisdom about him like he knew his fate or something.  Or maybe he knew mine.  We consoled each other for some time without even knowing it.  I looked at the clock and knew I had to get going before it got dark.  I put my helmet on and started for my scooter, and to my surprise, the puppy laid against my kickstand... almost as if to say, "Please don't leave."  And I did what any wretched, heartless person would do.  I drove away.  I drove away because I had to.  Because I couldn't help him.  Because, like every island dog, he needed to learn how to survive.  And I swear to you on everything I own, everyone I love, that as I rode away I saw him running after me in my rearview mirror.  I cried a little down the mountain but it was one of those poignant moments that provides unusual clarity.  I realized that he and I shared something in common. 


Dogs chase after scooters.  People chase after answers.  I've been chasing something.  We all do.  But you can't just run to and from things all the time because you miss what really matters-- and that's every single precious moment you find yourself in.  Doesn't matter if you know what you want or where you're going or what the hell you're doing.  All you really can do is be happy with your soup.  And I'm gonna work on that.



1 comment:

  1. "But no matter how many friends or acquaintances you come upon in this place, you will never feel so completely and utterly alone in your life."

    Interesting - somehow I doubt this alone thing is an Asia-centric feeling, I grew up in Asia and never feel alone anywhere in Asia I go. Then again, I didn't particularly feel alone when I moved to the US, or to Berlin, maybe a little in Papua New Guinea.

    I suspect its much more a psychological thing - the feeling comes and goes, so its a merely a matter of getting accustomed to the environment and dealing with a different view of 'normal'.

    As you've figured out, having a long term objective is definitely very helpful since it gives you something to focus on through all your transitionary phases, so its definitely something useful to do. Don't worry too much about being too specific, the key is to have a solid direction laid out and be open to making minor adjustments along your path as circumstances change and situations give you new insight on refining your end goal.

    The challenge that I currently face (and sounds like you will, too) is the combination of having an objective, keeping it in focus and at the same time adopting this 'living in the moment' approach. Actually most of the time you may find they are actually aligned - living in the moment helps one towards the objective... but I find sometimes there are moments when they are 2 distinct choices - which are the moments ripe for reflection, and to check whether our current path is 'right' for us.

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