Sometimes when I take a step back and think about the current state of my life, this is the first word that pops in my head.
I had to look it up to be certain how this strange word ever entered into my vocabulary. Google confirmed for me that it is my mates from down under who can be blamed for this one:
''An Australian exclamation of surprise or bewilderment.''
The word doesn't necessarily have a negative connotation. It's just that when I think about the range of possibilities that lie ahead of me right now, ''crikey'' seems to be an appropriate reaction. I may never be in such a unique position again in my lifetime.
Over a year ago, I tore this quote out of a book I was reading:
''This is where I have always been coming to. Since my time began. And when I go away from here, this will be the mid-point, to which everything ran, before, and from which everything will run.'' - A.S. Bayatt, Possession
At the time, I really wasn't sure how to feel about said quote. It sort of made me feel ill because I feared that it perfectly described what lied ahead of me: a lot of big changes that scared the hell out of me and I desperately wanted to avoid. It seemed to represent the battle I feared I was losing against the little voice in my head, the voice that I really preferred would just shut the hell up, if I'm perfectly honest.
But I faced it, my ''midpoint,'' and I survived. And I was blessed to have the means to take a difficult situation and turn it into an adventure. I've been just about as free as a bird for many months now.
Freedom. It is a wonderful thing. It can be liberating. Enlightening. Euphoric on some days.
But if taken too far, freedom can also be isolating. And a shield to hide behind to avoid making a decision... to avoid committing to anything.
(Yes, I do actually recognize this.)
I have a job I could go back to in London. A little piece of my heart still lives there. I now have a (very unexpected) job offer in Honduras. A little piece of my heart will always live in the developing world. Then there is America (that country on the front of my passport). A big piece of my heart still lives there. Along with my wonderful family and long-term friends.
So I'm going back there next week to park myself for a while and make a decision. I may be on the brink of getting an actual address as well as a wardrobe too big to fit in a 45 liter backpack.
I will share with you an abbreviated version of an interview between me and myself on the topic. (I interview myself a lot.)
Q [me]: ''Do you think we are ready to make this decision?''
A [myself]: ''....[a lot of internal debate, omitted for your benefit]... Well, I think we have come a long way on this 'journey.' We've healed our wounds from some of the heartbreaking things we've experienced. Sure, some of them are still fragile. We're being very careful with them.
We've spent enough time alone to reevaluate our principles... our 'rule book,' if you will, on everything from our future career path to our relationships - both our relationships with other people as well as ourself - from this point forward. If it had a title, it would be really long. It would be called: 'My Rule Book for My 30s and Beyond, Inspired by Many Interesting and Unexpected Lessons Learned in My 20s.' It would have three really big approval stamps on the cover from 'Me,' 'Myself' and 'No One Else.'
And, if we have accomplished both of these things, then I think our wanderlust has served its purpose. A very powerful one. Job done.''
[whispering]''... Look, let's be honest, you and I both know that our wanderlust will never fully die. But I think I may be ready to dial it back a notch or two.''
Q [me]: ''Are you sure? Sounds scary. We wiped the slate clean and now have virtually no ties. Now is our chance to make sure whatever we write on it next is definitely the right thing.''
A [myself]: ''I know. I do feel overwhelmed on some days knowing that the choices we make now will be the foundation 'from which everything else will run....'''
Q [me]: ''That damn quote again.''
A [myself]: ''I know. But listen, no matter which direction we ultimately decide to point our compass, I am sure we are not done learning. We are human.
But I know that the most important thing is this. And I don't care if it sounds cheesy, I am going to say it anyway: We dusted off the cobwebs and found our true self again on this journey. The uncluttered, untangled, uncompromised version of ourself. And wherever we go we will be taking that self with us.
Oh, and that rule book with the really really long title. We may not be finished making mistakes, but we sure as hell aren't making the same ones twice.
So there is no doubt in my mind that we are going to be just fine!''
Friday, 29 July 2011
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
i love visitors
I received some great news today... my friend L (right) is coming to visit me for the last 2 weeks I am in Roatan... she is going to stay with me and come volunteer at the same center where I am currently working, and then for the last few days of her visit after I wrap up my commitment here, we are going to hop over to Utila, a neighboring island, to visit our Aussie friend H who now lives there.
This is H:
If someone would have told me when I left Guatemala last summer that I would be back in Central America a year later, not only living on an island but also having a reunion with two of the girls I met while volunteering there... I would have asked them what they were smoking and told them they were crazy. Wow - how life can change in a year.
So excited!
Tuesday, 19 July 2011
Monday, 11 July 2011
america through different eyes
It's a well known fact that taking a few steps (or a few thousand miles) back certainly changes the view. I'm going on about four years now of living outside of the place I call home, the land of the free and the home of the brave. (And the Danzer Lee light, as I used to think it was called. Come on, admit it, you also got some lyrics wrong at some point in your childhood. Or adulthood. Maybe not of the national anthem, but, it's happened to you too. We can laugh about it.)
Yes, stepping away means that things that were previously an accepted part of the scenery can metamorphasize into glaring, ugly flaws... or strange phenomenons... or quirks. Or sometimes, they cocoon into beauty that would have never been appreciated in quite the same way without that added perspective.
Take for example, the CNN program being aired currently that has spent countless hours dissecting someone else's tragedy and reducing it to a soap opera, fueled further by the 21st century's modern reincarnation of the tabloid (AKA the facebook news stream which hurls opinions left and right). Followed by the latest in the US political drama, featuring a recording from a senator who has publicly called the president a liar. This whole public spectacle over the budget, being witnessed by the rest of the world, has been interesting (scary?) to watch from an outside angle. Yet the grand finale on this program was this: an interview with Hugh Hefner on being jilted at the alter, rounded out with a few questions (of course!?) on his opinion on the trial and the political budget debate.
I'm not commenting on what is right or wrong. And I absolutely value free speech. I'm just trying to draw a contrast here. I'm putting out there the fact that not all countries publicize and dramatize their trials, and I'd fall off my chair if I were to scan facebook over my morning coffee only to find some of their constituents using facebook as an opinion forum at all, much less as an opinion forum to spout views on such a sad situation of which they didn't have the benefit of witnessing first hand or personally hearing a balanced, undramatized recount of the facts. Not all countries' news programs routinely interview random celebrities such as an icon of the sex industry on serious political matters such as the budget crisis.
In summary, while I may not always agree with criticism of America, after now having seen it from the outside in for so many years, I usually don't struggle for long to understand it. And it has been my experience on anything in life that some midpoint between each end of the spectrum is usually the best place to land.
Yet America is America, I love it for exactly what it is, and it will always be where I came from and the place I still think of as home. And I have to admit: some of the many simple things that brought a smile to my face while I was back visiting over the past two weeks.... well, they were almost foreign to me. Actually, it wasn't so much things... as it was the nature of the people. A sample:
The lady in the elevator in downtown Chicago who I hadn't even bothered to make eye contact with: upon departing at her floor, she turned and said to me ''Have a good day."
The attorney in Chicago whom I'd never met before, yet spent a half hour notarizing documents for me on a few hours' notice: he not only refused to accept any compensation but also gave me his card with his cell phone number in case anything needed to be modified over the weekend before I left the country again.
The doctor in Chicago whom I'd also never met before and also agreed to see me on a few hours' notice: he gave me free samples and a massive discount as a self-pay customer, and then took a few minutes out of his day to sit and chat to me about Missouri and my travels.
Old friends in the Midwest I've known for years: they give you the keys to their homes, pick you up from the airport, tell you to make yourself at home, and most importantly, love you unconditionally no matter what you've been through over the past few years. Okay, there are a few more of you... in London, and Australia. But let's be honest: you don't grow friends like that overnight.
Nieces and nephews that make your heart melt: I still would like to know which person in my family bribed my 2.5 year old niece to whisper to me as she was patting my head, ''I love you, you're my best friend.''
That alone might be enough to bring me back to America.
Thanks to everyone who reminded me that home will always be home, no matter how far and how long I roam.
Yes, stepping away means that things that were previously an accepted part of the scenery can metamorphasize into glaring, ugly flaws... or strange phenomenons... or quirks. Or sometimes, they cocoon into beauty that would have never been appreciated in quite the same way without that added perspective.
Take for example, the CNN program being aired currently that has spent countless hours dissecting someone else's tragedy and reducing it to a soap opera, fueled further by the 21st century's modern reincarnation of the tabloid (AKA the facebook news stream which hurls opinions left and right). Followed by the latest in the US political drama, featuring a recording from a senator who has publicly called the president a liar. This whole public spectacle over the budget, being witnessed by the rest of the world, has been interesting (scary?) to watch from an outside angle. Yet the grand finale on this program was this: an interview with Hugh Hefner on being jilted at the alter, rounded out with a few questions (of course!?) on his opinion on the trial and the political budget debate.
I'm not commenting on what is right or wrong. And I absolutely value free speech. I'm just trying to draw a contrast here. I'm putting out there the fact that not all countries publicize and dramatize their trials, and I'd fall off my chair if I were to scan facebook over my morning coffee only to find some of their constituents using facebook as an opinion forum at all, much less as an opinion forum to spout views on such a sad situation of which they didn't have the benefit of witnessing first hand or personally hearing a balanced, undramatized recount of the facts. Not all countries' news programs routinely interview random celebrities such as an icon of the sex industry on serious political matters such as the budget crisis.
In summary, while I may not always agree with criticism of America, after now having seen it from the outside in for so many years, I usually don't struggle for long to understand it. And it has been my experience on anything in life that some midpoint between each end of the spectrum is usually the best place to land.
Yet America is America, I love it for exactly what it is, and it will always be where I came from and the place I still think of as home. And I have to admit: some of the many simple things that brought a smile to my face while I was back visiting over the past two weeks.... well, they were almost foreign to me. Actually, it wasn't so much things... as it was the nature of the people. A sample:
The lady in the elevator in downtown Chicago who I hadn't even bothered to make eye contact with: upon departing at her floor, she turned and said to me ''Have a good day."
The attorney in Chicago whom I'd never met before, yet spent a half hour notarizing documents for me on a few hours' notice: he not only refused to accept any compensation but also gave me his card with his cell phone number in case anything needed to be modified over the weekend before I left the country again.
The doctor in Chicago whom I'd also never met before and also agreed to see me on a few hours' notice: he gave me free samples and a massive discount as a self-pay customer, and then took a few minutes out of his day to sit and chat to me about Missouri and my travels.
Old friends in the Midwest I've known for years: they give you the keys to their homes, pick you up from the airport, tell you to make yourself at home, and most importantly, love you unconditionally no matter what you've been through over the past few years. Okay, there are a few more of you... in London, and Australia. But let's be honest: you don't grow friends like that overnight.
Nieces and nephews that make your heart melt: I still would like to know which person in my family bribed my 2.5 year old niece to whisper to me as she was patting my head, ''I love you, you're my best friend.''
That alone might be enough to bring me back to America.
Thanks to everyone who reminded me that home will always be home, no matter how far and how long I roam.
Thursday, 23 June 2011
broken pieces make sharp tools
Sometimes things break.
Glasses. Plates. Windows. Skin. Levies. Relationships. Spirits.
Sometimes we can patch them up. With superglue. Duct tape. Band-aids. Apologies. Bending. Molding. Adapting. Changing.
Sometimes not.
Usually that line between when one should keep mending things, or take the broken pieces and start anew, is fuzzy and grey.
A crack in a foundation: is it merely a sign of a little wear and tear? Or a fissure that will widen over time - a signal you should put a halt to all construction?
How do you know the point between the 'before,' when you can still walk away with most of the pieces still intact, as opposed to the ''after'', when you have broken it so many times, tried to bend and mold and patch it over and over because you can't bear to let it go, that the original is in such tiny or altered fragments that it is unrecognizable, its potential for future use diminished?
We never really know where that line is unless we wait to cross it. Unless we wait until the levee breaks. Or until the building crumbles to the ground because it was built upon a shaky foundation.
No one wants to wave the white flag without a good fight. But no one wants to step over that line to the point of total destruction. As with most things in life, finding that line is a balancing act coupled with a little bit of rolling the dice. I try to live by the principle that tenacity is a virtue. Yet mixed with an overabundance of pride and stubbornness, it can quickly turn toxic.
No, we never really know.
I think we all perpetually have things in our life that are cracking, breaking, crumbling. Such is life. Nothing is permanent. And that arbitrary line of ''before'' and ''after,'' that point when we're willing to accept the pieces as broken and make a change... well, that point differs for all of us.
But once we are able to see it clearly and are courageous enough to be honest with ourselves and move forward with the broken pieces, there is an up side.
Broken pieces aren't all bad. They can be sharp and powerful tools if we use them in the right way. Michelangelo didn't carve the David with a dull chisel. They can be tools for positive change, tools for meaningful growth, giving us an edge we don't normally have when we are in a place of comfort and complacency.
I meet a lot of people on ''the road'' (my current address) who are carrying around really big, chunky broken pieces of their lives. Many people would describe them as broken. Directionless.
I shared a 2 hour bus journey with a 35-year old journalist the other day. She was in the 50th week of her year-long trip around the world. She impressed me massively with her stories of the remote and unexpected places she has dared to go and the things she has experienced by getting off the well-beaten tourist trail. I expect to see a book out of this woman in a few years.
She said to me, ''I was in a rut with my job as a reporter and wasn't sure how to get out of it. I knew I could make small changes, but they would be band-aids, not getting to the root of the issue. I took this trip because I knew that the only way I was going to know the right next step for me was to really shake things up until it fell out."
I hear you, reporter woman, I really hear you.
She commented that maybe that qualified her as ''directionless,'' but nonetheless, it was the right thing for her.
I shared with her my theory on the topic.
Directionless is characterised as wandering aimlessly, looking for something outside yourself. I know what it looks like. I have seen that in many people I've met ''on the road.'' I am pretty sure I've also been that at some moments in my life. I reassured her that neither one of us fit in that category.
It's a very different thing to accept and admit that your fire has burned out and something has to change. Instead of just sitting on those sharp broken pieces and complaining about the pain, or trying to convince yourself they don't exist, you've picked them up and used them to help you cut through the weeds and carve out a new path. You've stepped away and started doing all the things that you know will re-ignite your fire and you're willing to be open to the possibilities of where that may take you without closing your mind to a rigid set of expectations for the sake of having the security of a well-defined plan.
You're in the uncomfortable place. That's okay. It's one of only three options: 1) uncomfortable place, 2) waiting place, or 3) acceptance place, and to be honest, the only places I like to hover are number 1 and number 3. Dr. Suess couldn't have put it better when he warned of the perils of the waiting place in one of my all-time favorite books, Oh the Places You'll Go:
''...a most useless place. The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to
come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting
around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just
waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting
around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to
boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with
curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.
No! That’s not for you!''
Glasses. Plates. Windows. Skin. Levies. Relationships. Spirits.
Sometimes we can patch them up. With superglue. Duct tape. Band-aids. Apologies. Bending. Molding. Adapting. Changing.
Sometimes not.
Usually that line between when one should keep mending things, or take the broken pieces and start anew, is fuzzy and grey.
A crack in a foundation: is it merely a sign of a little wear and tear? Or a fissure that will widen over time - a signal you should put a halt to all construction?
How do you know the point between the 'before,' when you can still walk away with most of the pieces still intact, as opposed to the ''after'', when you have broken it so many times, tried to bend and mold and patch it over and over because you can't bear to let it go, that the original is in such tiny or altered fragments that it is unrecognizable, its potential for future use diminished?
We never really know where that line is unless we wait to cross it. Unless we wait until the levee breaks. Or until the building crumbles to the ground because it was built upon a shaky foundation.
No one wants to wave the white flag without a good fight. But no one wants to step over that line to the point of total destruction. As with most things in life, finding that line is a balancing act coupled with a little bit of rolling the dice. I try to live by the principle that tenacity is a virtue. Yet mixed with an overabundance of pride and stubbornness, it can quickly turn toxic.
No, we never really know.
I think we all perpetually have things in our life that are cracking, breaking, crumbling. Such is life. Nothing is permanent. And that arbitrary line of ''before'' and ''after,'' that point when we're willing to accept the pieces as broken and make a change... well, that point differs for all of us.
But once we are able to see it clearly and are courageous enough to be honest with ourselves and move forward with the broken pieces, there is an up side.
Broken pieces aren't all bad. They can be sharp and powerful tools if we use them in the right way. Michelangelo didn't carve the David with a dull chisel. They can be tools for positive change, tools for meaningful growth, giving us an edge we don't normally have when we are in a place of comfort and complacency.
I meet a lot of people on ''the road'' (my current address) who are carrying around really big, chunky broken pieces of their lives. Many people would describe them as broken. Directionless.
I shared a 2 hour bus journey with a 35-year old journalist the other day. She was in the 50th week of her year-long trip around the world. She impressed me massively with her stories of the remote and unexpected places she has dared to go and the things she has experienced by getting off the well-beaten tourist trail. I expect to see a book out of this woman in a few years.
She said to me, ''I was in a rut with my job as a reporter and wasn't sure how to get out of it. I knew I could make small changes, but they would be band-aids, not getting to the root of the issue. I took this trip because I knew that the only way I was going to know the right next step for me was to really shake things up until it fell out."
I hear you, reporter woman, I really hear you.
She commented that maybe that qualified her as ''directionless,'' but nonetheless, it was the right thing for her.
I shared with her my theory on the topic.
Directionless is characterised as wandering aimlessly, looking for something outside yourself. I know what it looks like. I have seen that in many people I've met ''on the road.'' I am pretty sure I've also been that at some moments in my life. I reassured her that neither one of us fit in that category.
It's a very different thing to accept and admit that your fire has burned out and something has to change. Instead of just sitting on those sharp broken pieces and complaining about the pain, or trying to convince yourself they don't exist, you've picked them up and used them to help you cut through the weeds and carve out a new path. You've stepped away and started doing all the things that you know will re-ignite your fire and you're willing to be open to the possibilities of where that may take you without closing your mind to a rigid set of expectations for the sake of having the security of a well-defined plan.
You're in the uncomfortable place. That's okay. It's one of only three options: 1) uncomfortable place, 2) waiting place, or 3) acceptance place, and to be honest, the only places I like to hover are number 1 and number 3. Dr. Suess couldn't have put it better when he warned of the perils of the waiting place in one of my all-time favorite books, Oh the Places You'll Go:
''...a most useless place. The Waiting Place…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come, or a plane to go or the mail to
come, or the rain to go or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow or waiting
around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just
waiting.
Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting
around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to
boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with
curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting.
No! That’s not for you!''
closing the chapter on cambodia
Back in Bangkok, 64 days later, waiting for a flight again. And saying goodbye to Southeast Asia... for now.
For me, Cambodia will always be the place where I finally turned the corner and started smiling from the inside out, for the first time in a long time. Cambodia, my unconventional sanctuary of dusty roads, rusty bicycles with sticky brakes, bare feet, monks grinning from ear to ear, gecko pets in my room, naked young children running in the streets, ant bites that made my foot swell to twice its size, power outages and an endless supply of genuine smiles.
Cambodia, the place I learned, by way of forcefully self-imposed design, how to be comfortably alone for the first time in my life. And I mean really alone. And I mean really the first time in my life.
Cambodia, the place I learned, through practice, how to let go gracefully. To gently let go of people I love, in a loving way. To gently loosen the reins and relax my incessant desire to control the future and the unknown. To gently tune out the voice in my head echoing the judgment of others, both the real and perceived.
It was the place I learned to start to appreciate myself for precisely who I am. And be reminded of precisely who I am. It was not without some painful and humbling moments. I won't dwell upon those. I will just acknowledge that they were all part of the process.
It will always be the place where I caught a reflection of myself one day walking down the street, pleasantly surprised to realise I was donning a smile as my natural expression. (For the past few years, my boss has continually stopped to hover over me and my computer screen to remind me that burrowing my eyebrows causes wrinkles.) There I was, walking down the street, in the smouldering heat, in my own company... and naturally wearing a smile. That's the day I knew I was definitely going to be okay.
I had help. From some constant sources (who should not be underestimated - you know who you are).
But also from some fleeting yet incredibly powerful bursts of energy. Some that came into my life before I left London... some after.
K&S, warding off the Wilson syndrome
There were K and S, the English and American girls I met during my first week in Cambodia who were at a crossroads in their lives similar to mine. Two girls who had both experienced marathon relationships in their 20s that ended with a brave goodbye, and who were seeking something more meaningful professionally. Two ladies who had stepped away from a life that looked perfect on paper because they knew deep down something wasn't right, and who had both embarked on journeys similar to mine in order to figure it all out.
Everyone needs someone to relate to, especially when they feel like an island. These girls joined me on my island for a while. They, among other similar characters I met on and off for the following 10 weeks, certainly helped me avoid the temptation to draw a face on a soccer ball, name him Wilson and carry on a conversation with him at night, Tom Hanks style.
D, the ''one drink'' cure for bitterness
There was D, the English chap about two heads taller than me, with the deepest voice I've ever heard, and the first non-type A, non-corporate type I think I have ever gone on a legitimate date with as an adult... not to mention the first 'first' date I had been on since circa 2004. Even months later, I am still in awe at how the stars aligned to create this perfect and nothing more than temporary set of interactions which somehow served to dissolve some of my disappointment and cynicism toward relationships, as well as restore my faith in the possibility I would ever someday bother with trying to love again.
I was heading in the exact opposite mental direction before he crossed my path. My emotional reserves were running on empty and I knew I had no business getting into a relationship or probably even dating, one of the many reasons I was sending myself to Cambodia. I agreed to go for one drink with this guy, simply because I thought I needed the practice. Okay, maybe I also had something to prove to myself. 2004? That's a long time.
I fully expected it to end at that. One drink. However, he really intrigued me. And there was safety in the fact that we both knew our interactions had a pre-set expiration date, defined by my ticket out of London in mid-April. So I agreed to go out with him again, and again, until I left the UK. For some reason, I could effortlessly talk with him for hours on end. And the experience reminded me that permanently cutting myself off emotionally from the world, male species included, was not an option. It ended with a very pleasant goodbye. Haven't spoken with him since, and didn't expect to, or even really want to. We both were complete wildcards with at least one foot into new paths we were pursuing. The beauty of it was in its brevity. That little crack he put in my hardening shell changed me for the better.
L, my gift of purpose
God knows I can certainly roam. But aimless roaming... can't do that for long. So thankfully there was L, the 25-year old Cambodian girl who I worked with day in and day out for two months. Who to me, will always be the most wonderful and beautiful and funniest and most charming Cambodian girl I've ever known because she validated my initial purpose for being there and the risk I took by stepping away from the familiar. And because she became a daily source of smiles and laughter.
Every day, she thanked me for coming and leaned on my shoulder and begged me to stay longer. She called me srey shah - Khmer for ''pretty girl.''
I have fond memories of riding on the back of her motorbike around Siem Reap, particularly the day we followed a guy with a pig in a wooden cage on the back of his bike. I asked her if it was still alive. She said, ''yes of course'' and then abruptly pulled to the side of the road to buy us palm sugar juice from the man with the cart on wheels, which she insisted I had to try. Flies and bees were swarming everywhere around that machine that was grinding the sugar cane, and I wasn't sure of the source of the ice, but I drank it anyway, because she so generously insisted on buying it for me. We rode back to the office, sipping pure liquid sugar from a straw in a plastic bag, Asian style.
L was without a doubt the brightest part of my time in Cambodia. She made sweating my ass off and walking around the office with bare dusty feet begging to be preyed on by evil fire ants every day a priviledge and a pleasure.
There were many others. Maybe we'll never know all the small ways we changed someone else's life for the better just by being exactly who we are. May this be a testament to the fact that it happens anyway. And a reminder to stop to tell someone when they change yours.
Thank you Cambodia.
For me, Cambodia will always be the place where I finally turned the corner and started smiling from the inside out, for the first time in a long time. Cambodia, my unconventional sanctuary of dusty roads, rusty bicycles with sticky brakes, bare feet, monks grinning from ear to ear, gecko pets in my room, naked young children running in the streets, ant bites that made my foot swell to twice its size, power outages and an endless supply of genuine smiles.
Cambodia, the place I learned, by way of forcefully self-imposed design, how to be comfortably alone for the first time in my life. And I mean really alone. And I mean really the first time in my life.
Cambodia, the place I learned, through practice, how to let go gracefully. To gently let go of people I love, in a loving way. To gently loosen the reins and relax my incessant desire to control the future and the unknown. To gently tune out the voice in my head echoing the judgment of others, both the real and perceived.
It was the place I learned to start to appreciate myself for precisely who I am. And be reminded of precisely who I am. It was not without some painful and humbling moments. I won't dwell upon those. I will just acknowledge that they were all part of the process.
It will always be the place where I caught a reflection of myself one day walking down the street, pleasantly surprised to realise I was donning a smile as my natural expression. (For the past few years, my boss has continually stopped to hover over me and my computer screen to remind me that burrowing my eyebrows causes wrinkles.) There I was, walking down the street, in the smouldering heat, in my own company... and naturally wearing a smile. That's the day I knew I was definitely going to be okay.
I had help. From some constant sources (who should not be underestimated - you know who you are).
But also from some fleeting yet incredibly powerful bursts of energy. Some that came into my life before I left London... some after.
K&S, warding off the Wilson syndrome
There were K and S, the English and American girls I met during my first week in Cambodia who were at a crossroads in their lives similar to mine. Two girls who had both experienced marathon relationships in their 20s that ended with a brave goodbye, and who were seeking something more meaningful professionally. Two ladies who had stepped away from a life that looked perfect on paper because they knew deep down something wasn't right, and who had both embarked on journeys similar to mine in order to figure it all out.
Everyone needs someone to relate to, especially when they feel like an island. These girls joined me on my island for a while. They, among other similar characters I met on and off for the following 10 weeks, certainly helped me avoid the temptation to draw a face on a soccer ball, name him Wilson and carry on a conversation with him at night, Tom Hanks style.
D, the ''one drink'' cure for bitterness
There was D, the English chap about two heads taller than me, with the deepest voice I've ever heard, and the first non-type A, non-corporate type I think I have ever gone on a legitimate date with as an adult... not to mention the first 'first' date I had been on since circa 2004. Even months later, I am still in awe at how the stars aligned to create this perfect and nothing more than temporary set of interactions which somehow served to dissolve some of my disappointment and cynicism toward relationships, as well as restore my faith in the possibility I would ever someday bother with trying to love again.
I was heading in the exact opposite mental direction before he crossed my path. My emotional reserves were running on empty and I knew I had no business getting into a relationship or probably even dating, one of the many reasons I was sending myself to Cambodia. I agreed to go for one drink with this guy, simply because I thought I needed the practice. Okay, maybe I also had something to prove to myself. 2004? That's a long time.
I fully expected it to end at that. One drink. However, he really intrigued me. And there was safety in the fact that we both knew our interactions had a pre-set expiration date, defined by my ticket out of London in mid-April. So I agreed to go out with him again, and again, until I left the UK. For some reason, I could effortlessly talk with him for hours on end. And the experience reminded me that permanently cutting myself off emotionally from the world, male species included, was not an option. It ended with a very pleasant goodbye. Haven't spoken with him since, and didn't expect to, or even really want to. We both were complete wildcards with at least one foot into new paths we were pursuing. The beauty of it was in its brevity. That little crack he put in my hardening shell changed me for the better.
L, my gift of purpose
God knows I can certainly roam. But aimless roaming... can't do that for long. So thankfully there was L, the 25-year old Cambodian girl who I worked with day in and day out for two months. Who to me, will always be the most wonderful and beautiful and funniest and most charming Cambodian girl I've ever known because she validated my initial purpose for being there and the risk I took by stepping away from the familiar. And because she became a daily source of smiles and laughter.
Every day, she thanked me for coming and leaned on my shoulder and begged me to stay longer. She called me srey shah - Khmer for ''pretty girl.''
I have fond memories of riding on the back of her motorbike around Siem Reap, particularly the day we followed a guy with a pig in a wooden cage on the back of his bike. I asked her if it was still alive. She said, ''yes of course'' and then abruptly pulled to the side of the road to buy us palm sugar juice from the man with the cart on wheels, which she insisted I had to try. Flies and bees were swarming everywhere around that machine that was grinding the sugar cane, and I wasn't sure of the source of the ice, but I drank it anyway, because she so generously insisted on buying it for me. We rode back to the office, sipping pure liquid sugar from a straw in a plastic bag, Asian style.
L was without a doubt the brightest part of my time in Cambodia. She made sweating my ass off and walking around the office with bare dusty feet begging to be preyed on by evil fire ants every day a priviledge and a pleasure.
There were many others. Maybe we'll never know all the small ways we changed someone else's life for the better just by being exactly who we are. May this be a testament to the fact that it happens anyway. And a reminder to stop to tell someone when they change yours.
Thank you Cambodia.
Thursday, 9 June 2011
my strange and wonderful life
I am leaving my role at this NGO soon... I think... I keep saying I am leaving soon, but keep staying. I must be liking it. Monday, it seems, will be the day. Where I am going between then and 23 June... not yet sure.
The power goes out in this country, constantly. Tonight, it went out from 6-9pm. Not the best time to be out of power. I did find myself resorting to very very strange forms of entertainment by the end - it was dark outside, couldn't walk down the street to meet anyone, couldn't call anyone because my phone has no credit, too early to go to bed, already had dinner, head hurting from straining to read with my baby flashlight and candle, no one to talk to in the lobby, computer was dead, iPod was dead - but the camera phone was working. So (obviously!) I took a video of my candle. And the strange nature sounds coming from outside. Really surprisingly loud nature sounds. I wish I could post it for you. It is very creepy. But I can't find the adapter. (Don't judge, until you also go without power for 3 hours with no one to keep you company.)
Thankfully it came back on shortly after my strange filming episode and I as soon as I booted up my computer this lady in Roatan, one of the Bay Islands in Honduras, was ringing me on Skype. This is the third day I have tried to have a call with her - 9pm my time, 8am her time. Something always goes wrong. Today, besides the power episode, I also couldn't hear her talking. So she suggested that I talk, and she type. (This was a weird dynamic... talking in this format to someone you have never met before.)
Well, either way, her typing must have been good - as I think she has persuaded me to come there from mid-July. She is currently partnering with an accomplished photojournalist (I googled him, of course) to prepare a photo essay / funding proposal which she wants me to help with, which hits on a number of my interests, at least on paper, so it is worth a shot. This is one of those things that could be really amazing or really awful, but if it all goes to crap, at least I will be on a beautiful and relatively affordable island where I can snorkel every day and practice my Spanish until it is at the right level to move on to the next thing. I have a few other offers on the table after I finish in Roatan. Looking forward!
The power goes out in this country, constantly. Tonight, it went out from 6-9pm. Not the best time to be out of power. I did find myself resorting to very very strange forms of entertainment by the end - it was dark outside, couldn't walk down the street to meet anyone, couldn't call anyone because my phone has no credit, too early to go to bed, already had dinner, head hurting from straining to read with my baby flashlight and candle, no one to talk to in the lobby, computer was dead, iPod was dead - but the camera phone was working. So (obviously!) I took a video of my candle. And the strange nature sounds coming from outside. Really surprisingly loud nature sounds. I wish I could post it for you. It is very creepy. But I can't find the adapter. (Don't judge, until you also go without power for 3 hours with no one to keep you company.)
Thankfully it came back on shortly after my strange filming episode and I as soon as I booted up my computer this lady in Roatan, one of the Bay Islands in Honduras, was ringing me on Skype. This is the third day I have tried to have a call with her - 9pm my time, 8am her time. Something always goes wrong. Today, besides the power episode, I also couldn't hear her talking. So she suggested that I talk, and she type. (This was a weird dynamic... talking in this format to someone you have never met before.)
Well, either way, her typing must have been good - as I think she has persuaded me to come there from mid-July. She is currently partnering with an accomplished photojournalist (I googled him, of course) to prepare a photo essay / funding proposal which she wants me to help with, which hits on a number of my interests, at least on paper, so it is worth a shot. This is one of those things that could be really amazing or really awful, but if it all goes to crap, at least I will be on a beautiful and relatively affordable island where I can snorkel every day and practice my Spanish until it is at the right level to move on to the next thing. I have a few other offers on the table after I finish in Roatan. Looking forward!
Wednesday, 25 May 2011
live now
Nostalgia. How often we seem to think yesterday was better than today. I don't think it was, and I would advise you not to wait 10 years before admitting today was great. If you're hung up on nostalgia, pretend today was yesterday and just go out and have one hell of a good time. - Art Buchwald
Monday, 23 May 2011
corny t-shirt slogans
I just had a flashback from circa 1991. My parents had bought my brothers and me these t-shirts from some sort of leadership conference they had attended. I thought they were stupid. (From about 1991-1999, I thought most things my parents said and did were stupid, so the fact that I reacted with disgust at this t-shirt souvenir was no surprise. If I ever actually have a daughter, I suspect the universe will be cashing in on the hefty karma debts I built up during my teenage years...)
I still think the t-shirt was cheesy, and in this moment, I am recalling this mental image of a photo taken of my youngest little brother wearing it... the thought of it makes me laugh... I think he was missing a few teeth and it was so big on him it was more like a dress. But, right, get to the point, I know, I know.... the t-shirt said: 'Some will, some won't, so what.'
However, while I don't want those words plastered all over my chest - how true is that statement? I was thinking about it today as I am figuring out what is next for me after Cambodia, corresponding with a lot of places all over Central and South America.
Even though I felt mildly exploited and very frustrated last week when I received an email from this agency who placed me in Cambodia, cheekily changing their mind and asking me for 500 more pounds to set me up to do the same thing in Peru (this is just to put me in contact - I pay my own way)... well, I am sort of glad they did. For two reasons.
First of all, oddly enough, it indirectly helped me sell my condo. The next email that was waiting for me in my inbox was yet another counteroffer from a potential buyer I had been dealing with for days. Looking back, that email about my condo was somehow the final straw. I think this had been building up for weeks. Perhaps it was the constant witnessing of poverty for days on end, and knowing how far that extra 500 pounds would go in this country, not to mention the 600 pounds I had already paid to that agency. Maybe it was the feeling mildly guilty about paying that initial fee to them in the first place, and trying to justify it in my head ever since I arrived. It's not about the money so much as the principle. Maybe it was visiting the Killing Fields the previous day and taking in the sad and all too recent atrocities of the genocide this country endured a few decades ago - coupled by all the reading I've been doing about genocides since I got here, which has prompted me to try to convince myself, with no success to date, that it won't keep happening again and again across the world. And without a doubt, it was definitely those beers I had just consumed downstairs with the random English and German guys I met that evening that really put me over the top. But whatever it was, I finally got really fired up. I have such a tendency to adapt and be flexible, to compromise. But in that moment, that tendency was nowhere to be found. I told that buyer I was done - walk away. (On reflection - if I had actually really needed to sell the place, it would have been the dumbest negotiation move known to mankind - it was only $1.5k we were talking about and she was my only interested buyer in the 6 weeks it had been on the market. But I didn't care. Again, it was the principle of the matter. And I wasn't that desperate to sell it. I decided I would keep it for another year and see if the market improved.) She came back wanting it anyway, within an hour, for the right price. But by that point, that news had little effect on me. By that point, my frustration had somehow slowly transformed into just tears of sadness about all the heartbreaking things I have been seeing lately in this country. I guess my frustration and disappointment rooted a little deeper than the $1.5k, or 500 pounds.
But secondly, I think a little kick in the rear is exactly what I needed. A kick in the rear to live by the corny t-shirt slogan. Instead of looking on the shelf for another risk-free, pre-boxed experience, I stopped. Asked myself: what exactly do you want to do next? Do you even know for sure? Stop. Write it down. Then go tell people exactly who you are, what you are looking for, what you will accept, what you won't accept. Be open to the fact that many of them will say no, and most of all, don't take it personally. Move on. Wait for it. It will come. As a result of a week's effort, I received many no's and even more non-responses. But I also have plenty of yes replies sitting in my inbox with requests to come take photos for their website and marketing materials, to help train them on finance and accounting, to teach children, etc. etc. None of them want me to pay them to volunteer my time. I am getting very close to what I am looking for. I will be patient.
It's so silly that the fear of someone saying no to me has paralyzed me from action so many times - it's really no way to live. (Oh, I just wrote that with a z instead of an s! Maybe I am starting to shed my Englishisms! Wait, should ism be izm? I actually can't even tell anymore, I would have to google it. Nevermind.) It applies to all aspects of life I suppose - relationships, jobs, etc. There is this Dr. Suess quote I love: 'Be who you are and say what you feel. Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.' The more time I spend in these countries the more it sinks in that I have been privileged with the opportunity to design my own life. Not everyone has that privilege. And the more I realise it's a privilege, the more it feels like a responsibility. So I am starting to step up. Before you know it I am going to be channelling my inner Aussie mate and asking the chef in a random restaurant if I can come back tomorrow for him to teach me how to make the dish I just ate. (Surprisingly, this friend of mine gets quite a good response rate to this and has found himself donning aprons for impromptu cooking lessons in kitchens all over the globe...) Seriously, I'm not quite to that level yet, give me time. But you are definitely the voice in my head sometimes... you know who you are...
I still think the t-shirt was cheesy, and in this moment, I am recalling this mental image of a photo taken of my youngest little brother wearing it... the thought of it makes me laugh... I think he was missing a few teeth and it was so big on him it was more like a dress. But, right, get to the point, I know, I know.... the t-shirt said: 'Some will, some won't, so what.'
However, while I don't want those words plastered all over my chest - how true is that statement? I was thinking about it today as I am figuring out what is next for me after Cambodia, corresponding with a lot of places all over Central and South America.
Even though I felt mildly exploited and very frustrated last week when I received an email from this agency who placed me in Cambodia, cheekily changing their mind and asking me for 500 more pounds to set me up to do the same thing in Peru (this is just to put me in contact - I pay my own way)... well, I am sort of glad they did. For two reasons.
First of all, oddly enough, it indirectly helped me sell my condo. The next email that was waiting for me in my inbox was yet another counteroffer from a potential buyer I had been dealing with for days. Looking back, that email about my condo was somehow the final straw. I think this had been building up for weeks. Perhaps it was the constant witnessing of poverty for days on end, and knowing how far that extra 500 pounds would go in this country, not to mention the 600 pounds I had already paid to that agency. Maybe it was the feeling mildly guilty about paying that initial fee to them in the first place, and trying to justify it in my head ever since I arrived. It's not about the money so much as the principle. Maybe it was visiting the Killing Fields the previous day and taking in the sad and all too recent atrocities of the genocide this country endured a few decades ago - coupled by all the reading I've been doing about genocides since I got here, which has prompted me to try to convince myself, with no success to date, that it won't keep happening again and again across the world. And without a doubt, it was definitely those beers I had just consumed downstairs with the random English and German guys I met that evening that really put me over the top. But whatever it was, I finally got really fired up. I have such a tendency to adapt and be flexible, to compromise. But in that moment, that tendency was nowhere to be found. I told that buyer I was done - walk away. (On reflection - if I had actually really needed to sell the place, it would have been the dumbest negotiation move known to mankind - it was only $1.5k we were talking about and she was my only interested buyer in the 6 weeks it had been on the market. But I didn't care. Again, it was the principle of the matter. And I wasn't that desperate to sell it. I decided I would keep it for another year and see if the market improved.) She came back wanting it anyway, within an hour, for the right price. But by that point, that news had little effect on me. By that point, my frustration had somehow slowly transformed into just tears of sadness about all the heartbreaking things I have been seeing lately in this country. I guess my frustration and disappointment rooted a little deeper than the $1.5k, or 500 pounds.
But secondly, I think a little kick in the rear is exactly what I needed. A kick in the rear to live by the corny t-shirt slogan. Instead of looking on the shelf for another risk-free, pre-boxed experience, I stopped. Asked myself: what exactly do you want to do next? Do you even know for sure? Stop. Write it down. Then go tell people exactly who you are, what you are looking for, what you will accept, what you won't accept. Be open to the fact that many of them will say no, and most of all, don't take it personally. Move on. Wait for it. It will come. As a result of a week's effort, I received many no's and even more non-responses. But I also have plenty of yes replies sitting in my inbox with requests to come take photos for their website and marketing materials, to help train them on finance and accounting, to teach children, etc. etc. None of them want me to pay them to volunteer my time. I am getting very close to what I am looking for. I will be patient.
It's so silly that the fear of someone saying no to me has paralyzed me from action so many times - it's really no way to live. (Oh, I just wrote that with a z instead of an s! Maybe I am starting to shed my Englishisms! Wait, should ism be izm? I actually can't even tell anymore, I would have to google it. Nevermind.) It applies to all aspects of life I suppose - relationships, jobs, etc. There is this Dr. Suess quote I love: 'Be who you are and say what you feel. Those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.' The more time I spend in these countries the more it sinks in that I have been privileged with the opportunity to design my own life. Not everyone has that privilege. And the more I realise it's a privilege, the more it feels like a responsibility. So I am starting to step up. Before you know it I am going to be channelling my inner Aussie mate and asking the chef in a random restaurant if I can come back tomorrow for him to teach me how to make the dish I just ate. (Surprisingly, this friend of mine gets quite a good response rate to this and has found himself donning aprons for impromptu cooking lessons in kitchens all over the globe...) Seriously, I'm not quite to that level yet, give me time. But you are definitely the voice in my head sometimes... you know who you are...
broken down buses
I am convinced that buses break down on more trips than not in these countries. The first time I took a bus in Guatemala, I really didn't have a clue what I was getting into. At that point my idea of budget transportation was booking a flight on easyjet or Ryanair instead of British Airways. Not taking ground transportation on a rusty, rickety old bus with a broken windshield that showed up a half hour late (standard) and then proceeded to drive around for an hour to six other houses to pick up everyone else up before we ever left the town.
But, that's all part of the adventure. Especially when it breaks down halfway there, and the driver asks you to all get out and push start it, only to get it going long enough to stop again about a half hour later, this time on a very busy motorway on the edge of one of the most dangerous capital cities in the world. Always a good place to be standing as a group of obvious foreigners in the grass in the pouring rain while we waited for a replacement. The guy actually wanted to keep driving, but we had to ask him to stop. Seriously, the lights were flickering, the windshield wipers were moving at the speed of a snail, and it was pouring down rain. He tried to remedy this by using a towel, a flashlight and his arm out the driver's side window, but that was clearly not cutting it. (I'm not making this up, people....)
I honestly didn't know what to do with the whole thing except laugh. I know, it's a strange reaction, some people were really panicking. A normal reaction. Panicking, for their bags, but more so, for their body parts. (Guatemala City is... Guatemala City.) I was obviously concerned, but I realised there was absolutely nothing I could do about it so I just hid myself in my raincoat hood and umbrella and quietly laughed.
My experience with Cambodian breakdowns was equally annoying but much more relaxed. I had been on this overnight bus from Sihnoukville to Siem Reap for 10 hours when it came to a stop. I was actually sleeping, finally. It was light outside. Great, we are here. No. Wait. This is not a bus station. This is the side of the road. Ugh. Seriously? We must be really close. I am supposed to go to work this morning. And this guy next to me smells, and I really want off of this bus. I step off. One look at those guys taking apart the entire bus did not inspire a lot of confidence.
Look, I don't think I am invincible, and I use my head. I also trust my gut. I was not sitting on the side of that road for 4 hours while they fixed that bus. At 7am, it was already blazing hot, and I had hardly slept. Plus the only reason I took that bus was so I could show up at work that morning like I said I would. I knew we had to be less than 30 kilometers away, especially when I saw Soben drive past. Soben is the 'driver' at this place I work. He drives like a maniac, so he is hard to miss. I love him - we don't get too far in conversation in English, actually, we really just have one joke together, which is to say good morning to each other in the afternoon. (You have to find humor somehow, even across language barriers.)
I would have never done this in Guatemala. (Still wouldn't, actually.) But I didn't hesitate for a second in Cambodia. I walked down the road until I found someone who spoke English (this took a while), told him where I wanted to go, and 10 minutes and a little bit of bartering later, his father appeared as my new 'taxi' driver... in his personal car which he had to take the cover off of. I found 3 other people to come with me so I wasn't alone and 15 minutes later I was at my desk.
All part of the adventure, like I said...
mystery language
I work with 15 Khmer people, 1 Eastern European girl and 1 German guy. The staff at my guesthouse are all Khmer. English is not the first language for any of them, but it is the language we all speak to each other.
I have struggled with an accent identity crisis ever since I left Missouri 13 years ago. From southern belle drawl to nasaly Michigan and Chicago, then to England, I now get told I just sound like I am from California. Neutral. I am not a chameleon. I just don't like to repeat myself, so I adapt to be understood, it's not really a conscious effort.
But here my accent is not changing. I'm noticing I'm just eliminating entire words from my sentences, to be sure I'm understood the first time. It's terrible. I say things like 'where you go to lunch today?' to the girl I am working with or 'you like my key'? before I give it to the cleaning girl passing me in the hallway.
Great. My ratio is now 10% British English, 20% American English, and 70% pidgin English, with some very confused spelling going on... still not using 'z' but definitely have started to drop the 'u' after a month away from that cloudy island. I must get out of here before I start replicating the things I see on menus and signs. The best one lately was 'Chicken Condom Bleu' (not kidding)....
I have struggled with an accent identity crisis ever since I left Missouri 13 years ago. From southern belle drawl to nasaly Michigan and Chicago, then to England, I now get told I just sound like I am from California. Neutral. I am not a chameleon. I just don't like to repeat myself, so I adapt to be understood, it's not really a conscious effort.
But here my accent is not changing. I'm noticing I'm just eliminating entire words from my sentences, to be sure I'm understood the first time. It's terrible. I say things like 'where you go to lunch today?' to the girl I am working with or 'you like my key'? before I give it to the cleaning girl passing me in the hallway.
Great. My ratio is now 10% British English, 20% American English, and 70% pidgin English, with some very confused spelling going on... still not using 'z' but definitely have started to drop the 'u' after a month away from that cloudy island. I must get out of here before I start replicating the things I see on menus and signs. The best one lately was 'Chicken Condom Bleu' (not kidding)....
Sunday, 8 May 2011
el dia del madres
How lucky am I, not only to have a mother so incredibly beautiful on the inside and out...
...but also such a wonderful dad. My mom had major surgery this week. Why do we only stop to fully appreciate the blessings in our lives when we fear they could possibly be taken away from us? When my dad emailed me to let me know that all went okay... and that she was even letting him feed her, while he sang to her the Beatles song 'When I'm 64' (the lyrics say it all...)... I could only think two things: 1) Thank God, and 2) Oh Dad, why did you have to set the bar so high. :)
Happy Mother's Day!
Saturday, 7 May 2011
questions breed more questions
Anyone who truly knows me well will have commented at least once, or 100 times, on my profound ability to, what they like to term, 'overanalyse.'
I generally don't like to make snap judgments or decisions about people or situations, unless I absolutely have to. For me, the question at hand, whatever it is, usually unravels into a web of more and more questions. I like information. I like to know the big picture before concluding. I also have a very active mind and an occasionally intense emotional core. They like to go to war with one another. They both are exceptionally good at arguing their cases, meaning I have to give both sides time to battle it out. Sometimes it takes a while.
I guess have always looked upon most things in life - especially if humans are involved - as three dimensional. I have a strong urge to peel back the layers. Things aren't always what they seem at face value. Sure, making quick decisions is valued in our fast-paced society. It often projects and inspires confidence. Saves time. Sometimes it is absolutely necessary, of course I can recognise that. And I can certainly do it when I have to... I suppose there is no way I could have been successful in my career to date without it.
But, give me time... and I will always take it. There are plenty of downsides associated with this trait. But with the passing years I think we all get better at learning how to best channel our innate personality characteristics - identifying when they are assets, and when they are liabilities.
Sometimes that means I make the conscious decision to tone it down (or turn it off!), even if it doesn't come naturally.
But it is really the experiences I've gained while living in the developing world that have most strongly highlighted to me that there are times when there is infinite value to keeping your question marks open until you've educated yourself from all angles. Sure, I love engaging in debate about all these things I am seeing, I get passionate, I share my perspectives and experiences... but usually they are only articulated in the form of questions or the presentation of two (or more?) possible sides, reserving complete judgment. I'm not advocating wishy-washiness or never taking a stand about anything. I'm saying that decisions and judgments, however quickly you can produce them, are not always that useful if they are only narrowly informed. And I have more to learn.
There is a quote that pops into my conscious thought quite frequently. Being a naturally curious person I have always identified with this quote, but my experiences over the past year have especially intensified its meaning: 'The more I see, the less I know for sure.' - John Lennon
I said I wouldn't edit myself on this blog. But I definitely have today. Deleted it all from here and saved it for myself until I can get my thoughts out properly. :) As someone who usually has no problem expressing myself in writing, that is a really good sign they neeed to be further developed. So... stay tuned?
I generally don't like to make snap judgments or decisions about people or situations, unless I absolutely have to. For me, the question at hand, whatever it is, usually unravels into a web of more and more questions. I like information. I like to know the big picture before concluding. I also have a very active mind and an occasionally intense emotional core. They like to go to war with one another. They both are exceptionally good at arguing their cases, meaning I have to give both sides time to battle it out. Sometimes it takes a while.
I guess have always looked upon most things in life - especially if humans are involved - as three dimensional. I have a strong urge to peel back the layers. Things aren't always what they seem at face value. Sure, making quick decisions is valued in our fast-paced society. It often projects and inspires confidence. Saves time. Sometimes it is absolutely necessary, of course I can recognise that. And I can certainly do it when I have to... I suppose there is no way I could have been successful in my career to date without it.
But, give me time... and I will always take it. There are plenty of downsides associated with this trait. But with the passing years I think we all get better at learning how to best channel our innate personality characteristics - identifying when they are assets, and when they are liabilities.
Sometimes that means I make the conscious decision to tone it down (or turn it off!), even if it doesn't come naturally.
But it is really the experiences I've gained while living in the developing world that have most strongly highlighted to me that there are times when there is infinite value to keeping your question marks open until you've educated yourself from all angles. Sure, I love engaging in debate about all these things I am seeing, I get passionate, I share my perspectives and experiences... but usually they are only articulated in the form of questions or the presentation of two (or more?) possible sides, reserving complete judgment. I'm not advocating wishy-washiness or never taking a stand about anything. I'm saying that decisions and judgments, however quickly you can produce them, are not always that useful if they are only narrowly informed. And I have more to learn.
There is a quote that pops into my conscious thought quite frequently. Being a naturally curious person I have always identified with this quote, but my experiences over the past year have especially intensified its meaning: 'The more I see, the less I know for sure.' - John Lennon
I said I wouldn't edit myself on this blog. But I definitely have today. Deleted it all from here and saved it for myself until I can get my thoughts out properly. :) As someone who usually has no problem expressing myself in writing, that is a really good sign they neeed to be further developed. So... stay tuned?
Tuesday, 3 May 2011
noodles and rice
Finding my food rhythm here has been interesting. Food can be very cheap here - you can eat for less than $2 a meal if you go to the right places. On the flip side, it can also easily be the same price as home if you allow yourself to fall prey to those eating establishments set up solely to cater to westerners. (Tempting on occasion... I won't lie.) But I think I have been playing a bit of a game with myself since I got here to see how sensible I can be in my food and drink budget.
It's sort of new to me, as most of my travelling over the past decade has not been in countries like this... nor has it really been of the budget variety. And when I lived in Guatemala, I stayed with a host family, where I just ate what was served. Massive papaya for breakfast that I could barely force down (look, papaya is good, but not in those kind of doses).... chewy steak... yep, whatever it was, I just ate as much of it as I could stomach. Even if I ate a few things I didn't like in order to avoid grandma's disapproving look, the up side was that I really didn't have to think about it.
Here I am staying in a guesthouse. It includes breakfast but all my other meals are on my own. No kitchen.
Anyone who has been over to my flat recently in London and seen the contents of my refrigerator is probably laughing right now, thinking... as if you are actually going to cook something anyway. Look, I can cook! :) I can make anything from homemade pizza to Thai curries to scones to anything Mexican you can think of, but I just don't see the point of cooking for one. And, truth be told, I'm slow as molasses. I only like cooking when it is for other people and I can crack a bottle of wine and chat and putz my way through the whole thing. I distinctly remember my first experience cooking on my own after my former live-in chef and I parted ways (the fact that he dominated the kitchen - which I welcomed, don't get me wrong - explains part of my speed issue). Anyway, what was I cooking? It was just a vegetable stir fry. Time I began: 7:30. Time I ate: 8:40. (It was a lot of chopping!) I thought - forget it, no way am I doing this every night just for myself. It was good for the waistline, if nothing else.
Anyway, back to the point... so after two weeks here are a few of my observations on food:
1) noodles and rice are great. but not for every meal, even if they only cost $1.25. right now, I think if were to see another noodle I would, well...
2) therefore, an occasional visit to westernised eating establishments is in order every now and then. for a salad. and some ice in my diet coke.
3) if you're going to have a drink, it is probably going to be a beer. (not a lot of wine regions near Cambodia... unless you count rice wine... so unless you want to pay 5 times the price for wine that doesn't taste that great anyway... yep, as I said, you're drinking a beer).
4) so if you're going to have a beer, go to one of the many establishments that serve 50 cent drafts. (I know this sounds reminiscent of bars you (and I!) probably frequented in the college years... but really a lot of the restaurants have 50 cent drafts). So now I have learned not to go to any of the places that just serve cans, because they cost twice the price, but perhaps more importantly, they get warm in 2.5 seconds.
5) I did try going to the grocery store. I bought a few things but I don't think I'll be back. It's more expensive than eating out. And while there is a refrigerator in my room, the power goes out so often I think it is slightly risky. I ate some things from it last week that were questionable, while crossing my fingers, and vowing not to buy real food for that refrigerator again.
6) I am starting to find things on the cheap Asian menu with vegetables, sans noodles, sans frying. Fresh spring rolls for one. But it is not without trial and error. Tonight I had some sort of papaya salad. With papaya cut into noodle-like shreds. Sort of like cabbage. Soaked in what I swear was a combination of fish sauce and straight garlic. I almost considered not eating it it was so potent. But, I was too curious, and I'd already paid for it. And as I have made a conscious decision not mingle too much with the backpacker crowd for the first month I am travelling, and there's not a chance for me and any Cambodian men (for many reasons, not least that even at 5'5 and 115 pounds, I qualify as giant status relative to them!)... well, I can probably eat garlic all I want for now.
It's sort of new to me, as most of my travelling over the past decade has not been in countries like this... nor has it really been of the budget variety. And when I lived in Guatemala, I stayed with a host family, where I just ate what was served. Massive papaya for breakfast that I could barely force down (look, papaya is good, but not in those kind of doses).... chewy steak... yep, whatever it was, I just ate as much of it as I could stomach. Even if I ate a few things I didn't like in order to avoid grandma's disapproving look, the up side was that I really didn't have to think about it.
Here I am staying in a guesthouse. It includes breakfast but all my other meals are on my own. No kitchen.
Anyone who has been over to my flat recently in London and seen the contents of my refrigerator is probably laughing right now, thinking... as if you are actually going to cook something anyway. Look, I can cook! :) I can make anything from homemade pizza to Thai curries to scones to anything Mexican you can think of, but I just don't see the point of cooking for one. And, truth be told, I'm slow as molasses. I only like cooking when it is for other people and I can crack a bottle of wine and chat and putz my way through the whole thing. I distinctly remember my first experience cooking on my own after my former live-in chef and I parted ways (the fact that he dominated the kitchen - which I welcomed, don't get me wrong - explains part of my speed issue). Anyway, what was I cooking? It was just a vegetable stir fry. Time I began: 7:30. Time I ate: 8:40. (It was a lot of chopping!) I thought - forget it, no way am I doing this every night just for myself. It was good for the waistline, if nothing else.
Anyway, back to the point... so after two weeks here are a few of my observations on food:
1) noodles and rice are great. but not for every meal, even if they only cost $1.25. right now, I think if were to see another noodle I would, well...
2) therefore, an occasional visit to westernised eating establishments is in order every now and then. for a salad. and some ice in my diet coke.
3) if you're going to have a drink, it is probably going to be a beer. (not a lot of wine regions near Cambodia... unless you count rice wine... so unless you want to pay 5 times the price for wine that doesn't taste that great anyway... yep, as I said, you're drinking a beer).
4) so if you're going to have a beer, go to one of the many establishments that serve 50 cent drafts. (I know this sounds reminiscent of bars you (and I!) probably frequented in the college years... but really a lot of the restaurants have 50 cent drafts). So now I have learned not to go to any of the places that just serve cans, because they cost twice the price, but perhaps more importantly, they get warm in 2.5 seconds.
5) I did try going to the grocery store. I bought a few things but I don't think I'll be back. It's more expensive than eating out. And while there is a refrigerator in my room, the power goes out so often I think it is slightly risky. I ate some things from it last week that were questionable, while crossing my fingers, and vowing not to buy real food for that refrigerator again.
6) I am starting to find things on the cheap Asian menu with vegetables, sans noodles, sans frying. Fresh spring rolls for one. But it is not without trial and error. Tonight I had some sort of papaya salad. With papaya cut into noodle-like shreds. Sort of like cabbage. Soaked in what I swear was a combination of fish sauce and straight garlic. I almost considered not eating it it was so potent. But, I was too curious, and I'd already paid for it. And as I have made a conscious decision not mingle too much with the backpacker crowd for the first month I am travelling, and there's not a chance for me and any Cambodian men (for many reasons, not least that even at 5'5 and 115 pounds, I qualify as giant status relative to them!)... well, I can probably eat garlic all I want for now.
Saturday, 30 April 2011
helping or hurting - the great balancing act
'Helping' in developing countries is always a balancing act. There is plenty of debate over what genuinely helps, and what, however well-intentioned it is, ultimately hurts the beneficiaries and the communities they live in. It is a controversial topic, one I've read a lot about. I won't go into all the facets of the debate here, but I can summarise a few themes. It is important to have a link into the community, to learn about the culture and the socio-economic and political environment first. What you think they need may not be what they need at all once looking at the big picture. Equally important is whether what you have to contribute matches with those needs, and how your time is structured to make sure you are building a bridge, rather than leaving a hole, when you leave.
I'm currently trying to find that balance as I decide whether to extend my time with this NGO. I am about halfway through the time I have committed to them. I have finished what the director asked me to do - review their accounting and financial management processes from front to back, and identify recommendations for how they can improve. I have produced about 10 pages of them to be honest, and many of them are very basic things.
There is a big part of me that just wants to roll my sleeves up and take charge - I am sure I could knock many of those off the list in just a few days. But I have to stop and remind myself that this would do them no good at all. The best I can do is help them develop a plan, and spend time with them every day embedding the knowledge they need to implement that plan themselves.
I had a meeting with the monk who leads the NGO on Friday. ('Meetings' take place in the courtyard, outside - still a very nice change of pace.) He got very excited about the list, saying this is what he knows they really need and that he hopes I will stay longer to help them with it. I told him it is down to them - the more time they can make available to work with me, the longer I will stay, because of course, it would not be helping if I just did it for them. So we agreed: he committed himself and his team (I use the word 'team' very loosely, as he only has one accountant) to set blocks of time each day, and I am to make a schedule for how we work through it.
So we'll see how it goes. But no matter how long it is I choose to stay here, I have to say I am satisfied that what I am doing falls on the right side of the 'helping or hurting' debate I previously described - something I continually challenge myself on. It's great to support an NGO run by locals... so many are run by Westerners, and I have to give them the benefit of the doubt. But with this one, there's not a doubt in my mind that this monk, who doesn't even take a salary, who grew up in Cambodia, speaks the language and knows its history and people inside and out... he runs this organisation from his heart and it's serving the right people in the right ways.
My role, well, I'm just here to help him tighten up his accounting and financial management system. This NGO is still in its early years, and it has been fortunate to have some very generous donors who place a lot of trust in those who run the organisation. And it is well placed, in my view - sit across the guy for half an hour and you would likely agree. He knows what he is doing and is well educated, of course, but what's more, his spirit of generosity, happiness, genuineness, compassion - it's infectious. I would trust him implicitly as well.
But as they seek to grow and improve, what I am doing will hopefully help him with one of his most important objectives: ensuring the long-term sustainability of these programs by backing up that trust with more solid transparency. Better transparency leads to better information, better decision making and better access to varied sources of donor funds if something should happen to the current funding stream. So, I may not be doing a lot here... but this guy definitely is. And supporting him in his efforts to save a lot of children from a bleak future - I've seen the beneficiaries first hand - is something that I can be satisfied is making a small difference.
I'm currently trying to find that balance as I decide whether to extend my time with this NGO. I am about halfway through the time I have committed to them. I have finished what the director asked me to do - review their accounting and financial management processes from front to back, and identify recommendations for how they can improve. I have produced about 10 pages of them to be honest, and many of them are very basic things.
There is a big part of me that just wants to roll my sleeves up and take charge - I am sure I could knock many of those off the list in just a few days. But I have to stop and remind myself that this would do them no good at all. The best I can do is help them develop a plan, and spend time with them every day embedding the knowledge they need to implement that plan themselves.
I had a meeting with the monk who leads the NGO on Friday. ('Meetings' take place in the courtyard, outside - still a very nice change of pace.) He got very excited about the list, saying this is what he knows they really need and that he hopes I will stay longer to help them with it. I told him it is down to them - the more time they can make available to work with me, the longer I will stay, because of course, it would not be helping if I just did it for them. So we agreed: he committed himself and his team (I use the word 'team' very loosely, as he only has one accountant) to set blocks of time each day, and I am to make a schedule for how we work through it.
So we'll see how it goes. But no matter how long it is I choose to stay here, I have to say I am satisfied that what I am doing falls on the right side of the 'helping or hurting' debate I previously described - something I continually challenge myself on. It's great to support an NGO run by locals... so many are run by Westerners, and I have to give them the benefit of the doubt. But with this one, there's not a doubt in my mind that this monk, who doesn't even take a salary, who grew up in Cambodia, speaks the language and knows its history and people inside and out... he runs this organisation from his heart and it's serving the right people in the right ways.
My role, well, I'm just here to help him tighten up his accounting and financial management system. This NGO is still in its early years, and it has been fortunate to have some very generous donors who place a lot of trust in those who run the organisation. And it is well placed, in my view - sit across the guy for half an hour and you would likely agree. He knows what he is doing and is well educated, of course, but what's more, his spirit of generosity, happiness, genuineness, compassion - it's infectious. I would trust him implicitly as well.
But as they seek to grow and improve, what I am doing will hopefully help him with one of his most important objectives: ensuring the long-term sustainability of these programs by backing up that trust with more solid transparency. Better transparency leads to better information, better decision making and better access to varied sources of donor funds if something should happen to the current funding stream. So, I may not be doing a lot here... but this guy definitely is. And supporting him in his efforts to save a lot of children from a bleak future - I've seen the beneficiaries first hand - is something that I can be satisfied is making a small difference.
Thursday, 28 April 2011
happy playlist
I loathe taxes. Funny that some people in my life think that is what I do for a living. Sometimes, accountant = taxes. I'm cool with that - most of the time I don't explain anymore. But anyway I don't like them... and for this reason, even up until about 2 days before I left for this trip, even things like downloading music and making playlists seemed to rank about 10 notches above them on the priority scale.
But now I'm patting myself on the back, thinking that my priorities were just right - I really would go nuts without music, and today as I sat in a 105 degree office sweating like crazy, my 'happy playlist' made me, well, really happy. (I know, really creative title for a playlist.) I was trying not to do any unconscious dancing in my chair (look, when you're not wearing shoes, it's easy to forget you're in an office)... I am not sure if monks are cool with music in this place, so was trying to keep it on the DL.
So, I thought I would share it with you. If you ever need a pick me up.... go to YouTube and type them in.
1. Sly & The Family Stone - Everyday People
2. Bill Withers - Lovely Day (one of my favorite songs. ever.)
3. Paolo Nutini - New Shoes*
4. Scissor Sisters - Don't Feel Like Dancing*
5. Jackson 5 - I Want You Back
6. If You Really Love Me - Stevie Wonder
7. Love You Madly - Cake
8. Ain't Got No / I Got Life - Nina Simone
9. Did You Give The World Some Love Today, Baby? - Doris Day
10. Bi*ches Ain't Sh*t- Ben Folds (Mom. Grandma. Please give this one a miss for me, okay... you won't like it. In fact, none of you should listen to it unless you grew up listening to American gangsta rap and thinking it was really, really cool at the time. Because only then will you appreciate this spoof. It makes me laugh out loud every time I listen to the lyrics in Ben Folds' ballad style... the piano really puts it over the top for me...)
* To my Aussie mates who are getting married this Saturday. You're in my thoughts a lot right now anyway, but these two songs are so inextricably linked to you it's ridiculous. And speaking of the songs, I would like to give you some advice for your new life as a married couple: get a new bloody CD for your dinner parties besides Paolo.... it's a wonder I can still stand to listen to him :). On a less critical note, when and if those dinner parties degenerate into dance parties on the living room floor where everyone is adorning hats from your closets - #4 is a keeper. (That song is so mistitled. Makes me the exact opposite...)
But now I'm patting myself on the back, thinking that my priorities were just right - I really would go nuts without music, and today as I sat in a 105 degree office sweating like crazy, my 'happy playlist' made me, well, really happy. (I know, really creative title for a playlist.) I was trying not to do any unconscious dancing in my chair (look, when you're not wearing shoes, it's easy to forget you're in an office)... I am not sure if monks are cool with music in this place, so was trying to keep it on the DL.
So, I thought I would share it with you. If you ever need a pick me up.... go to YouTube and type them in.
1. Sly & The Family Stone - Everyday People
2. Bill Withers - Lovely Day (one of my favorite songs. ever.)
3. Paolo Nutini - New Shoes*
4. Scissor Sisters - Don't Feel Like Dancing*
5. Jackson 5 - I Want You Back
6. If You Really Love Me - Stevie Wonder
7. Love You Madly - Cake
8. Ain't Got No / I Got Life - Nina Simone
9. Did You Give The World Some Love Today, Baby? - Doris Day
10. Bi*ches Ain't Sh*t- Ben Folds (Mom. Grandma. Please give this one a miss for me, okay... you won't like it. In fact, none of you should listen to it unless you grew up listening to American gangsta rap and thinking it was really, really cool at the time. Because only then will you appreciate this spoof. It makes me laugh out loud every time I listen to the lyrics in Ben Folds' ballad style... the piano really puts it over the top for me...)
* To my Aussie mates who are getting married this Saturday. You're in my thoughts a lot right now anyway, but these two songs are so inextricably linked to you it's ridiculous. And speaking of the songs, I would like to give you some advice for your new life as a married couple: get a new bloody CD for your dinner parties besides Paolo.... it's a wonder I can still stand to listen to him :). On a less critical note, when and if those dinner parties degenerate into dance parties on the living room floor where everyone is adorning hats from your closets - #4 is a keeper. (That song is so mistitled. Makes me the exact opposite...)
Tuesday, 26 April 2011
Monday, 25 April 2011
Sunday, 24 April 2011
category 3 women
I remember this quote as one of the most frequent to be uttered by my mother when I was growing up (this is the version I still hear in my head today, anyway): "In 5 years time, you will be the same person you are now, except for the places you go, the books you read and the people you meet."
Usually I think she used this phrase to support some sort of advice or opinion that I was choosing to ignore. But obviously it has stuck with me, and I thought of it today when I heard from one of the friends I made while I was living in Guatemala.
When I think back to that teaching program and the people I met, I group them into three categories: 1) 18 year olds on summer break; 2) teachers on summer break; and 3) 'other.' I must admit that while I met amazing people across all three of them and still keep in touch with many today - some of those category 3 people really intrigued me.
Maybe it was because I was a fellow category 3 person who was crazy enough to leave my job and 25% of my annual salary behind to travel 5,000 miles to a place I'd never been to do two things completely out of my comfort zone: teach children, in Spanish. So I presumed they must have some sort of interesting story about how they got there as well.
Maybe it was because even though we had slightly different reasons that brought us there, I gradually came to realise they were all variations of the same theme.
But most of all, I think it was because I found something in them that I don't think I was even fully aware that I was looking for... or that I needed. What did I find? Multiple people who seemed to be woven from the same fiber and who could really understand and relate to me. And on some level, were asking themselves some of the same questions I was asking myself.
And these people have changed my life, in big and small ways. Whether they know it or not (well - you do now!), just having met them and known them for a short time provided a sort of quiet inspiration that I carried with me long after we parted ways.
Little by little, I keep hearing from each of them with news of bravery they seem to have mustered up upon return - whether it be a career change or some other aspect of their personal life they tackled. And the one I got to keep in my day-to-day upon return - the one from London - what an incredible friend she was to me during one of the most difficult parts of my life... in ways I never expected or would have asked of her, in ways that I thought were reserved for really long- standing friends and family members who, in my case, were all thousands of miles away.
So, thank you, amazing category 3 ladies...
Usually I think she used this phrase to support some sort of advice or opinion that I was choosing to ignore. But obviously it has stuck with me, and I thought of it today when I heard from one of the friends I made while I was living in Guatemala.
When I think back to that teaching program and the people I met, I group them into three categories: 1) 18 year olds on summer break; 2) teachers on summer break; and 3) 'other.' I must admit that while I met amazing people across all three of them and still keep in touch with many today - some of those category 3 people really intrigued me.
Maybe it was because I was a fellow category 3 person who was crazy enough to leave my job and 25% of my annual salary behind to travel 5,000 miles to a place I'd never been to do two things completely out of my comfort zone: teach children, in Spanish. So I presumed they must have some sort of interesting story about how they got there as well.
Maybe it was because even though we had slightly different reasons that brought us there, I gradually came to realise they were all variations of the same theme.
But most of all, I think it was because I found something in them that I don't think I was even fully aware that I was looking for... or that I needed. What did I find? Multiple people who seemed to be woven from the same fiber and who could really understand and relate to me. And on some level, were asking themselves some of the same questions I was asking myself.
And these people have changed my life, in big and small ways. Whether they know it or not (well - you do now!), just having met them and known them for a short time provided a sort of quiet inspiration that I carried with me long after we parted ways.
Little by little, I keep hearing from each of them with news of bravery they seem to have mustered up upon return - whether it be a career change or some other aspect of their personal life they tackled. And the one I got to keep in my day-to-day upon return - the one from London - what an incredible friend she was to me during one of the most difficult parts of my life... in ways I never expected or would have asked of her, in ways that I thought were reserved for really long- standing friends and family members who, in my case, were all thousands of miles away.
So, thank you, amazing category 3 ladies...
Saturday, 23 April 2011
little angels, the rock-throwing kind
One of the reasons I like photographing children so much is the process of interaction and the challenge of getting them to open up to you. I love that even the shyest kids can go from 0 to 60, revealing all the ins and outs of their personalities, in only about an hour's time. (Provided I act like a complete fool around them, that is.)
I was thankful that the happy monk had a meeting at the orphanage on Friday so he took me with him and let me play with these kids all afternoon, and I was even more thankful that he stayed indoors. While I'm sure he would have cracked a smile at my ridiculous dances and funny faces - I suppose it is probably easier for him to take me seriously as a professional advisor without those images in his head of me acting like an overgrown kid.
Some kids are easy to read. Others aren't. That's okay, I probably identify with them more in some ways. This girl on the left won the most complex personality award, starting the afternoon by covering her face to avoid the camera, to happily dancing around and singing 30 minutes later, to finally throwing a rock at my foot by the end of the day....
Thursday, 21 April 2011
happy monks in orange
What a contrast... one day I am working with uber-serious investment bankers in London and the next I in Southeast Asia, sitting at a meeting being led by a happy monk dressed in a bright orange robe, smiling and laughing, cracking jokes and quoting Buddha.
One of the things they always tell you as a disclaimer when you go away to do these things is 'don't expect it to be like home...it will be a slower pace than you're used to... it may take longer to get things done and be unpredictable...' Look, I get it - I get why they have to say this to some people. But they don't really need to say it to me, other than as a selling point. I hope it's different from home (that's why I bothered to get on a plane!). I welcome a slower pace (again, that's ideal - I'm not getting paid, remember?). And I'm fascinated by the differences - I suppose this is the reason that in the past few years, I can't seem to get enough of going to actually work in instead of tour other countries, whether it is paid or unpaid - for me it has proven to be the best way to break in and get to know the people and how things work. When I moved to London almost 4 years ago for my job, I realised that despite having lived in that city for 4 months (seriously, 4 months!) in my early 20s, I really didn't have a clue about England or English people until I came back 7 years later to work alongside them.
I have only had limited interactions with these people so far and to be honest, when they each went around the table to introduce themselves, I didn't always understand everything they were saying, and sometimes decided it would be more polite not to ask for clarification. But you know what? You can tell a lot about a person from observing his disposition, whether he is speaking English or Khmer. This is a group of very gentle and kindhearted people. And I really valued the refreshing genuineness in this comment from the monk who leads the organisation: in the presence of his management team of perhaps 10-15 other Cambodians, he welcomed me and thanked me multiple times for coming, and asked me to please be honest in developing recommendations as he knew there was room for improvement. He said that the good thing about their organisation is that everyone around the table has a good heart. But as Buddha says, we can't improve ourselves or others if we let the egos get in the way.
I had a lot of fun with the randomness of my first day with these people and I will likely never forget many of the small and funny moments, some of which were perhaps funny only to me, but funny nonetheless. Of course I didn't accomplish much in the way of 'transforming the finance and accounting department' - but I have hardly developed relationships with these people yet. That is always the cornerstone for any sort of meaningful progress. First things first!
One of the things they always tell you as a disclaimer when you go away to do these things is 'don't expect it to be like home...it will be a slower pace than you're used to... it may take longer to get things done and be unpredictable...' Look, I get it - I get why they have to say this to some people. But they don't really need to say it to me, other than as a selling point. I hope it's different from home (that's why I bothered to get on a plane!). I welcome a slower pace (again, that's ideal - I'm not getting paid, remember?). And I'm fascinated by the differences - I suppose this is the reason that in the past few years, I can't seem to get enough of going to actually work in instead of tour other countries, whether it is paid or unpaid - for me it has proven to be the best way to break in and get to know the people and how things work. When I moved to London almost 4 years ago for my job, I realised that despite having lived in that city for 4 months (seriously, 4 months!) in my early 20s, I really didn't have a clue about England or English people until I came back 7 years later to work alongside them.
I have only had limited interactions with these people so far and to be honest, when they each went around the table to introduce themselves, I didn't always understand everything they were saying, and sometimes decided it would be more polite not to ask for clarification. But you know what? You can tell a lot about a person from observing his disposition, whether he is speaking English or Khmer. This is a group of very gentle and kindhearted people. And I really valued the refreshing genuineness in this comment from the monk who leads the organisation: in the presence of his management team of perhaps 10-15 other Cambodians, he welcomed me and thanked me multiple times for coming, and asked me to please be honest in developing recommendations as he knew there was room for improvement. He said that the good thing about their organisation is that everyone around the table has a good heart. But as Buddha says, we can't improve ourselves or others if we let the egos get in the way.
I had a lot of fun with the randomness of my first day with these people and I will likely never forget many of the small and funny moments, some of which were perhaps funny only to me, but funny nonetheless. Of course I didn't accomplish much in the way of 'transforming the finance and accounting department' - but I have hardly developed relationships with these people yet. That is always the cornerstone for any sort of meaningful progress. First things first!
a few rules
There aren't many rules in the developing world. Probably one of the reasons I like it so much. But there are a few.
1. don't drink the water. I never struggle to remember the drinking part. But it does always escape me when brushing my teeth. In Guatemala I just told myself this was 'building the immunity system.' Someone recently freaked out on me about this so I decided to try to be better this time. Nope, not working... some habits die hard when there is a tap and a sink right in front of you.
2. take your shoes off before entering the building. This one is unique to Asia. I still haven't gotten used to this to be honest. Walking around at 'work' today barefoot felt ridiculous (and dusty). But, when in Rome...
3. there always seems to be one and only one rule to the road in these places.... if it's bigger than you, get out of the way. I had probably way too much fun today getting around this town on a bicycle amongst the motorbikes and cars and tuk tuks and just about anything else you can think of. It's comical to watch and even more comical to be in the middle of. I was thankful for all those years ago in Chicago when my former sidekick taught me this very crucial lesson about navigating traffic when you are on a bike (to be honest, it was more like a lecture, as I was going so slow he lost me): just like in life, if you second guess yourself or hesitate you're much more likely to get runover. The only way to ride a bike in traffic is to ride it as if you have a pair. (Sorry, but I think that is a direct quote from this person... and Mom, calm down, this is a small town - no one is going that fast, and I was wearing my seat belt I swear. It's way too hot to walk.)
1. don't drink the water. I never struggle to remember the drinking part. But it does always escape me when brushing my teeth. In Guatemala I just told myself this was 'building the immunity system.' Someone recently freaked out on me about this so I decided to try to be better this time. Nope, not working... some habits die hard when there is a tap and a sink right in front of you.
2. take your shoes off before entering the building. This one is unique to Asia. I still haven't gotten used to this to be honest. Walking around at 'work' today barefoot felt ridiculous (and dusty). But, when in Rome...
3. there always seems to be one and only one rule to the road in these places.... if it's bigger than you, get out of the way. I had probably way too much fun today getting around this town on a bicycle amongst the motorbikes and cars and tuk tuks and just about anything else you can think of. It's comical to watch and even more comical to be in the middle of. I was thankful for all those years ago in Chicago when my former sidekick taught me this very crucial lesson about navigating traffic when you are on a bike (to be honest, it was more like a lecture, as I was going so slow he lost me): just like in life, if you second guess yourself or hesitate you're much more likely to get runover. The only way to ride a bike in traffic is to ride it as if you have a pair. (Sorry, but I think that is a direct quote from this person... and Mom, calm down, this is a small town - no one is going that fast, and I was wearing my seat belt I swear. It's way too hot to walk.)
hi, please step into my office
This is the courtyard of Wat Damnak where Life and Hope Association is located.
Now, sometimes I see photos of people's travels and they look so magical I want to jump through the screen and transport myself there. So if you are anything like me and you are feeling like that idea sounds way better than sitting at your desk at work right now or whatever it is you are doing, do yourself a favor and picture me taking these photos drenched in sweat from head to toe (I'm not exaggerating), having to wipe it from my eyes to take a proper shot. Four years of mild summers has made me a wimp. There still isn't anywhere else I'd rather be, but... just trying to help.
Tuesday, 19 April 2011
last minute lady
I arrived in Siem Reap this evening and it's been an interesting past 72 hours... in my usual last-minute style I made it out of London with everything in order, despite a few hiccups, which are always to be expected. Highlights included movers who showed up 2 hours late (6 hours before I needed to be at the airport) and one last shopping trip on Oxford Street (3 hours before I left for the airport) - wow, if you really want a sure-fire way to make sure you don't get sentimental about leaving a city you love, go down there and walk in the cattle herds of tourists who are moving at a snail's pace, not allowing even a spare inch on either side of the pavement for those of us who live here and are in a hurry.... THEN - wait in a line of 20 people with only 2 people working the register. I avoid that area at all costs, so much that I ordered everything online 2 weeks ago. This idea seriously backfired on me as half the stuff never came. This added to my last minute list: 'sweet talk a colleague into sorting out returning my stuff when it finally arrives so I can get my money back'.
Yes I do tend to do everything at the last minute relative to what some people are comfortable with, but it works for me, and the beauty of travelling alone is that you get to do it your way. I was thinking about this as I was sitting at the gate before I boarded the plane. Question for you: are you one of those people who races to get in line as soon as they call you, or do you let all those eager people do their 'hurry up and wait thing', and then go after the line dies down?
You can probably tell from the tone of the question which camp I fall into. So I sat there until the end, even though I got upgraded and had some sort of priority boarding. I haven't flown Qantas Airways in a long time, or perhaps ever, so when the guy told me that he had upgraded me to 'Premium Economy' I didn't get too excited. I had visions of 6 extra inches of leg room, at best (not a huge selling point to someone who is 5'5), and maybe the chance to board the plane 5 minutes earlier.
Well, walking onto the plane dead last, as planned, feeling quite satisfied that I was travelling alone and could do whatever I wanted... I realised the joke was on me as I could have been sitting there for 20 minutes sipping champagne. Who knew Premium Economy on Qantas rivals many American carriers' Business Class... what is wrong with our airlines? It was a very welcome surprise.
So now I am here... I have tomorrow to explore and adjust and then I start working with this organisation http://www.lifeandhopeangkor.org/ on Thursday. I was placed there by an agency based in the UK called AFID http://www.afid.org.uk/. My primary objective is to see what I can do to help strengthen their financial management and accounting teams and processes... but I asked if one day a week I could go work directly with the kids and take photos, which they seemed to be fine with. As you can see, this is something that makes me very happy...
Yes I do tend to do everything at the last minute relative to what some people are comfortable with, but it works for me, and the beauty of travelling alone is that you get to do it your way. I was thinking about this as I was sitting at the gate before I boarded the plane. Question for you: are you one of those people who races to get in line as soon as they call you, or do you let all those eager people do their 'hurry up and wait thing', and then go after the line dies down?
You can probably tell from the tone of the question which camp I fall into. So I sat there until the end, even though I got upgraded and had some sort of priority boarding. I haven't flown Qantas Airways in a long time, or perhaps ever, so when the guy told me that he had upgraded me to 'Premium Economy' I didn't get too excited. I had visions of 6 extra inches of leg room, at best (not a huge selling point to someone who is 5'5), and maybe the chance to board the plane 5 minutes earlier.
Well, walking onto the plane dead last, as planned, feeling quite satisfied that I was travelling alone and could do whatever I wanted... I realised the joke was on me as I could have been sitting there for 20 minutes sipping champagne. Who knew Premium Economy on Qantas rivals many American carriers' Business Class... what is wrong with our airlines? It was a very welcome surprise.
So now I am here... I have tomorrow to explore and adjust and then I start working with this organisation http://www.lifeandhopeangkor.org/ on Thursday. I was placed there by an agency based in the UK called AFID http://www.afid.org.uk/. My primary objective is to see what I can do to help strengthen their financial management and accounting teams and processes... but I asked if one day a week I could go work directly with the kids and take photos, which they seemed to be fine with. As you can see, this is something that makes me very happy...
And so it begins...
role reversal
Less than two months ago I was sitting in my parents' living room with a seriously long list of unanswered questions about my future. Now, I'm not talking about a 5-year plan, I'm talking about a 5-month plan or even a 5-week plan. As someone who has worked incredibly hard to keep a pretty firm grip of control on my present and future life for as long as I can remember (I'm an accountant for God's sake!) this feeling was both incredibly refreshing as well as overwhelmingly daunting at the same time.
In that moment the only thing I really knew for certain is that my short-term lease expired on 18 April, and it was pretty clear to me that after that date there was a compelling force coming from deep within me that was not going to let me do anything but get out of London for a while. Get out of London and turn this period of change and uncertainty in my life into an opportunity to break away and go do something that makes my heart happy. You know, when life gives you lemons...
The questions (warning - reading this list may give you a headache): Should I quit my job and ship my stuff back to America... should I take the break my London employer offered me and put my stuff in storage in the UK... what sort of risks am I taking with respect to my right to work here if I take a leave of absence and leave the country and try to come back... do I want a long term career in the UK... do I want to make partner at my firm... if I come home can I readjust to American working culture... do I want to.... will Chicago seem small now in comparison.... but do I really think my lifestyle in London in sustainable.... Chicago is so cold, remember it makes your fingers freeze even through gloves in the winter... I have no family in the UK... why can't I find somewhere to volunteer my professional skills in a Spanish speaking country... research research research... how many months should I take off work...
Trying to answer the questions over the past two months: Advice, advice, advice from friends, family and trusted colleagues... 'don't try to make too many big decisions about your future right now if you don't have to, haven't you already made enough of those for now'.... thinking, thinking, thinking.... complicated visual maze starts developing in my head with 'if this, then that' arrows all over the place.... trying to control every single variable to make sure I don't close any doors for the future... hiring legal counsel to advise me on the immigration aspects...
.... and then finally realising this is a sure recipe for madness - to carry on in this manner trying to keep every door open with 100% certainty. It's time to just trust that if fate really wants me to walk through those doors when the time comes, then it will see to it that they are opened.
What a switch. I've spent most of my life trying to force the opposite. Here's hoping that this role reversal I'm giving into will bring some interesting discoveries.
In that moment the only thing I really knew for certain is that my short-term lease expired on 18 April, and it was pretty clear to me that after that date there was a compelling force coming from deep within me that was not going to let me do anything but get out of London for a while. Get out of London and turn this period of change and uncertainty in my life into an opportunity to break away and go do something that makes my heart happy. You know, when life gives you lemons...
The questions (warning - reading this list may give you a headache): Should I quit my job and ship my stuff back to America... should I take the break my London employer offered me and put my stuff in storage in the UK... what sort of risks am I taking with respect to my right to work here if I take a leave of absence and leave the country and try to come back... do I want a long term career in the UK... do I want to make partner at my firm... if I come home can I readjust to American working culture... do I want to.... will Chicago seem small now in comparison.... but do I really think my lifestyle in London in sustainable.... Chicago is so cold, remember it makes your fingers freeze even through gloves in the winter... I have no family in the UK... why can't I find somewhere to volunteer my professional skills in a Spanish speaking country... research research research... how many months should I take off work...
Trying to answer the questions over the past two months: Advice, advice, advice from friends, family and trusted colleagues... 'don't try to make too many big decisions about your future right now if you don't have to, haven't you already made enough of those for now'.... thinking, thinking, thinking.... complicated visual maze starts developing in my head with 'if this, then that' arrows all over the place.... trying to control every single variable to make sure I don't close any doors for the future... hiring legal counsel to advise me on the immigration aspects...
.... and then finally realising this is a sure recipe for madness - to carry on in this manner trying to keep every door open with 100% certainty. It's time to just trust that if fate really wants me to walk through those doors when the time comes, then it will see to it that they are opened.
Proof of this transformation - my final conversation with my seemingly risk-averse immigration lawyer last Friday went something like this:Today: I am happily sitting in the Bangkok airport, drinking a beer, waiting for my connecting flight to Siem Reap where I am going to work for the next 3 weeks... and I can honestly say in this moment that I am pretty relaxed about all those lingering questions and just excited about being here and excited about the possibilities. Thank God... it's taken a while for my head to catch up with my heart.
Him: (Long winded speech about the legal rules and how they have changed recently and all the various ways they could be interpreted....)
Me: (Finally cutting him off. Not usually my style, but this rambling is costing me 200 pounds an hour. This guy is honestly worse than me.) 'So, let me summarise: worst case scenario - if I get an immigration officer at the border who is having a bad day, or doesn't take a liking to me, or decides to take an unfavourable interpretation of these rules that are less than explicit, then I may be denied entry and possibly lose my right to work here because I left the country for so long. So what does that mean - what happens next after that? Will they let me back in to get my stuff at least? :) Fine, I will give a friend access to my storage unit just in case. I'll cross that bridge when I get there. I cannot control everything in this life.'
What a switch. I've spent most of my life trying to force the opposite. Here's hoping that this role reversal I'm giving into will bring some interesting discoveries.
Friday, 15 April 2011
hidden gems
It's my last day of work and I am cleaning off my computer before I hand it over in a few hours... it's a strange feeling to be honest. As I scour all my files to delete anything personal as well as salvage all the things I may need in the future, I am coming across some random things. As a lover of the written word I have always collected quotes all over the place... apparently that includes dumping them in word files on my work PC. I don't even remember creating this document but here it is - a few quips of wisdom that I think are worth keeping:
Grown-ups love figures. When you tell them that you have made a new friend, they never ask you any questions about essential matters. They never say to you, "What does his voice sound like? What games does he love best? Does he collect butterflies?" Instead, they demand: "How old is he? How many brothers has he? How much does he weigh? How much money does his father make?" Only from these figures do they think they have learned anything about him. ~Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince, 1943, translated from French
Always when judging
Who people are,
Remember to footnote
The words "So far."
~Robert Brault
Time you enjoy wasting, was not wasted. ~John Lennon
In this age, which believes that there is a short cut to everything, the greatest lesson to be learned is that the most difficult way is, in the long run, the easiest. ~Henry Miller, The Books in My Life
Never explain. Your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe it anyway. ~Elbert Hubbard, A Thousand and One Epigrams, 1911
Giving up doesn't always mean you are weak. Sometimes it means that you are strong enough to let go. ~Author Unknown
Sunday, 10 April 2011
only time
'Who can say
where the road goes
where the day flows
only time'
That Enya song has popped in my head several times as I have been winding down my life in London as I know it and looking ahead to this next chapter which has yet to be written... in more ways than one. Not only has it yet to be lived, it also has yet to be fully planned. That's okay I think - you know what they say - man plans, God laughs.
I've pondered on how these two realities can coexist: I seem to be going full speed ahead in reverse of the proverbial 'American dream,' by choice - I'm 31 years old, not in a committed relationship with a man, nor do I have any realistic prospects of children in the near future, I am leaving my well-paid corporate job for 6 months, I'm in the process of unwinding my home ownership status in America and putting all the things I own (on this side of the pond, anyway) in a 15 square foot storage unit in London... yet in many ways, I am on the road to being happier and more at peace from the inside than I've been in a long time.
As I was packing yesterday, trying to discard as much as possible, I came across one of the most influential paperbacks I have ever read. It's by Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead, and I don't care if it's 'just a paperback' and only would cost £6.99 to replace. It still made the cut. It was a treasured gift, is marked up by me from front to back and I'll never forget reading it for the first time and how relevant so much of it was to my life at that point.
There are a couple passages from that book that I read almost two years ago that pained me to read because they hit a nerve, and ever since I have been trying to figure out why. I even taped part of it to my closet wall for a while. As time goes on I'm learning that they bear a distinct relevance to the inverse relationship I just described between this unwinding process and my level of personal happiness.
where the road goes
where the day flows
only time'
That Enya song has popped in my head several times as I have been winding down my life in London as I know it and looking ahead to this next chapter which has yet to be written... in more ways than one. Not only has it yet to be lived, it also has yet to be fully planned. That's okay I think - you know what they say - man plans, God laughs.
I've pondered on how these two realities can coexist: I seem to be going full speed ahead in reverse of the proverbial 'American dream,' by choice - I'm 31 years old, not in a committed relationship with a man, nor do I have any realistic prospects of children in the near future, I am leaving my well-paid corporate job for 6 months, I'm in the process of unwinding my home ownership status in America and putting all the things I own (on this side of the pond, anyway) in a 15 square foot storage unit in London... yet in many ways, I am on the road to being happier and more at peace from the inside than I've been in a long time.
As I was packing yesterday, trying to discard as much as possible, I came across one of the most influential paperbacks I have ever read. It's by Ayn Rand - The Fountainhead, and I don't care if it's 'just a paperback' and only would cost £6.99 to replace. It still made the cut. It was a treasured gift, is marked up by me from front to back and I'll never forget reading it for the first time and how relevant so much of it was to my life at that point.
There are a couple passages from that book that I read almost two years ago that pained me to read because they hit a nerve, and ever since I have been trying to figure out why. I even taped part of it to my closet wall for a while. As time goes on I'm learning that they bear a distinct relevance to the inverse relationship I just described between this unwinding process and my level of personal happiness.
"Look at everyone around us. You've wondered why they suffer, why they seek happiness and never find it. If any man stopped and asked himself whether he's ever held a truly personal desire, he'd find an answer. He'd see that all his wishes, his efforts, his dreams, his ambitions are motivated by other men. He's not even struggling for material wealth, but for the second-hander's delusion... a stamp of approval, not his own. He can find no joy in the struggle and no joy when he has succeeded. He can't say about a single thing: 'This is what I wanted because I wanted it, not because it made my neighbors gape at me.' Then he wonders why he's unhappy. Every form of happiness is private. Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, not to be touched. I think the only cardinal evil on earth is that of placing your prime concern within other men."
“That’s the sort of thing I want you to understand. To sell your soul is the easiest thing in the world. That’s what everybody does every hour of his life. If I ask you to keep your soul, would you understand why that is much harder?”
Tuesday, 5 April 2011
that damn elephant
relationship (n):
1) the quality or state of being related; connection
2) connection by blood, marriage, etc.; kinship
3) a particular instance of being related
4) a continuing attachment or association between persons, firms, etc., specif., one between lovers
relation (n):
1) a logical or natural association between two or more things; relevance of one to another; connection
2) the way in which one person or thing is connected with another
3) the act of telling or recounting : account
4) an aspect or quality (as resemblance) that connects two or more things or parts as being or belonging or working together or as being of the same kind; specifically : a property (as one expressed by is equal to, is less than, or is the brother of) that holds between an ordered pair of objects
5) a person connected by consanguinity or affinity : relative
6) a person legally entitled to a share of the property of an intestate
7) relationship by consanguinity or affinity : kinship
8) reference, respect
9) the attitude or stance which two or more persons or groups assume toward one another
10) the state of being mutually or reciprocally interested (as in social or commercial matters)
11) dealings, intercourse; sexual intercourse
If you haven't gotten my point by now, you never will...
Even Webster, through his 15 various definitions, has alluded to the fact that they can be pretty bloody complicated from time to time.
So all I will say is that all the men of my past are all pretty damn amazing or they never would have been in my life to begin with. And any man I've ever loved... I will love for the duration, in some way. That's the way love works. So any reflection on relationships that I write about at this point has little to do with them or their flaws and everything to do with little things I've learned about... well, myself... relationships in general... and perhaps life as a whole. So, sigh, hopefully that elephant is feeling less neglected, I will write freely now....
1) the quality or state of being related; connection
2) connection by blood, marriage, etc.; kinship
3) a particular instance of being related
4) a continuing attachment or association between persons, firms, etc., specif., one between lovers
relation (n):
1) a logical or natural association between two or more things; relevance of one to another; connection
2) the way in which one person or thing is connected with another
3) the act of telling or recounting : account
4) an aspect or quality (as resemblance) that connects two or more things or parts as being or belonging or working together or as being of the same kind
5) a person connected by consanguinity or affinity : relative
6) a person legally entitled to a share of the property of an intestate
7) relationship by consanguinity or affinity : kinship
8) reference, respect
9) the attitude or stance which two or more persons or groups assume toward one another
10) the state of being mutually or reciprocally interested (as in social or commercial matters)
11) dealings, intercourse
If you haven't gotten my point by now, you never will...
Even Webster, through his 15 various definitions, has alluded to the fact that they can be pretty bloody complicated from time to time.
So all I will say is that all the men of my past are all pretty damn amazing or they never would have been in my life to begin with. And any man I've ever loved... I will love for the duration, in some way. That's the way love works. So any reflection on relationships that I write about at this point has little to do with them or their flaws and everything to do with little things I've learned about... well, myself... relationships in general... and perhaps life as a whole. So, sigh, hopefully that elephant is feeling less neglected, I will write freely now....
Friday, 1 April 2011
shedding
'I've been born again and again and each time, I have found something to love.' - Gordon Parks
Is the heart a muscle that gets stronger every time it breaks, more capable of love the next time around? Or one that becomes hardened over time, resisting everything, in an effort to avoid future transformation, in an effort to avoid both the good and the bad.
Science's take: 'How a muscle responds to a repeated stimulus depends, to a large extent, on the inherent characteristics of the muscle itself.'
My take: Well, of course 'my take' is going to be more drawn out. No one has ever accused me of being succinct. But I have concluded that my heart's inherent characteristics must be strong.
I wasn't sure about this for a while. At one point I gave my father my toughest ice queen speech about how I was swearing off love and relationships. I think that during this fit of rage - channelled in a very controlled, articulate and straight-faced manner, but still rage nonetheless - I somehow summoned up every ounce of bitterness and disappointment that had been building up in me for quite some time and just projected it right on him. Perhaps I thought if I convinced him - the man who has witnessed and supported me unconditionally throughout all my heartbreaks, big and small for the last 31 years, and who knows how truly soft I am in my inner core - perhaps if I convinced him that I was strong enough to wall off my heart then I could also convince myself. Because there were moments when I really wanted to.
But I have finally accepted that not only would that be impossible for me, I also don't want that. The upside is just too good not to risk the downside. I'd do it all again, really, if given the chance. Maybe even twice, for the sake of the lessons learned.
It's taken me a while to get to this point... but somehow all the forms of good thereapy, whether that be books people gave me, pouring my heart out to friends or family over the phone, venting with good friends over several glasses of wine (umm... several times?), good advice I didn't want to hear because it was too painful to execute and therefore ignored the first, second, or tenth time, or, quite literally, my real-life therapist (some days I still can't believe I once thought therapists were only for truly crazy people, I swear that every penny I've paid that lady to put a mirror in front of my face and help me learn how not to be my own worst enemy has been some of the best money I've ever spent)... all those culminated into an epiphany one day that has changed the way choose to live my day every morning.
It was really just a simple agreement I made with myself to wake up every morning and follow three basic rules:
1) be authentic. be yourself. even when it pains you not to turn on the charm and be exactly what you know other people would want to hear or make them love you. because that is actually false and exhausting to maintain. we don't have time or energy for this.
2) you get one free pass to bring out the boxing gloves and use them on yourself, per mistake. get over yourself, God did not make you any less human than the next guy. again, we really don't have energy or time for multiple rounds in the ring.
3) no matter what we've been through, we refuse to play ridiculous games designed out of self-protection. if you feel something, say it. does that make you vulnerable, yes. but it makes you authentic. and ultimately being authentic is the best form of self-protection out there. had to learn that the hard way. see rule #1.
I guess it's true what they say... self-love is the best form of love out there and the best basis for all other forms of love... no matter how many years it takes us to get it right.
Is the heart a muscle that gets stronger every time it breaks, more capable of love the next time around? Or one that becomes hardened over time, resisting everything, in an effort to avoid future transformation, in an effort to avoid both the good and the bad.
Science's take: 'How a muscle responds to a repeated stimulus depends, to a large extent, on the inherent characteristics of the muscle itself.'
My take: Well, of course 'my take' is going to be more drawn out. No one has ever accused me of being succinct. But I have concluded that my heart's inherent characteristics must be strong.
I wasn't sure about this for a while. At one point I gave my father my toughest ice queen speech about how I was swearing off love and relationships. I think that during this fit of rage - channelled in a very controlled, articulate and straight-faced manner, but still rage nonetheless - I somehow summoned up every ounce of bitterness and disappointment that had been building up in me for quite some time and just projected it right on him. Perhaps I thought if I convinced him - the man who has witnessed and supported me unconditionally throughout all my heartbreaks, big and small for the last 31 years, and who knows how truly soft I am in my inner core - perhaps if I convinced him that I was strong enough to wall off my heart then I could also convince myself. Because there were moments when I really wanted to.
But I have finally accepted that not only would that be impossible for me, I also don't want that. The upside is just too good not to risk the downside. I'd do it all again, really, if given the chance. Maybe even twice, for the sake of the lessons learned.
It's taken me a while to get to this point... but somehow all the forms of good thereapy, whether that be books people gave me, pouring my heart out to friends or family over the phone, venting with good friends over several glasses of wine (umm... several times?), good advice I didn't want to hear because it was too painful to execute and therefore ignored the first, second, or tenth time, or, quite literally, my real-life therapist (some days I still can't believe I once thought therapists were only for truly crazy people, I swear that every penny I've paid that lady to put a mirror in front of my face and help me learn how not to be my own worst enemy has been some of the best money I've ever spent)... all those culminated into an epiphany one day that has changed the way choose to live my day every morning.
It was really just a simple agreement I made with myself to wake up every morning and follow three basic rules:
1) be authentic. be yourself. even when it pains you not to turn on the charm and be exactly what you know other people would want to hear or make them love you. because that is actually false and exhausting to maintain. we don't have time or energy for this.
2) you get one free pass to bring out the boxing gloves and use them on yourself, per mistake. get over yourself, God did not make you any less human than the next guy. again, we really don't have energy or time for multiple rounds in the ring.
3) no matter what we've been through, we refuse to play ridiculous games designed out of self-protection. if you feel something, say it. does that make you vulnerable, yes. but it makes you authentic. and ultimately being authentic is the best form of self-protection out there. had to learn that the hard way. see rule #1.
I guess it's true what they say... self-love is the best form of love out there and the best basis for all other forms of love... no matter how many years it takes us to get it right.
shine on
There is this SKY advert being aired a lot right now that always sucks me in emotionally. (Sorry, SKY advert is brit speak for a TV advertisement for the main satellite television provider in the UK - 'SKY'). Dustin Hoffman has this little 15 second speech and it goes like this:
'Stories. We spend our life telling them.
About this, about that, about people.
But some... some stories are so good,
You wish they'd never end.
They are so good, that we'll go without sleep
Just to see a little bit more
Sometimes stories bring us laughter
and sometimes they bring us tears.
But isn't that what a great story does?
It makes you feel.
Stories that are so powerful,
they really are with us forever.'
Depending on the day, it moves me in different ways, but always strikes a nerve... maybe because a lot of my stories and chapters have been closing over the past year or two and wow they were powerful but I wouldn't trade them for anything. And they will be with me forever, in a good way.
Music moves me like that as well. On some days over the past couple of years I have actually left my iPod at home, banning myself from music in an effort to tune out my feelings as well. But many days have passed since then - and many baby steps have gradually been taken in rejection of that mentality - not feeling is just not for me, I've always been someone who feels deeply, I just can't live any other way. It took me a long time to realise that it's okay to surround myself with people in my life who can celebrate and embrace that part of me instead of continuing to try to mold myself into something I'm not. I'll take the ups, I'll take the downs, bring it on.
How does one really experience life without all of the above?
In response to an email I sent to one of my dear friends a while back when I was in a pretty sad place, breaking some bittersweet news and how I was feeling about waving the white flag - expressed in a 'signature odd me' sort of way - think Mastercard commercial script, the end culminating in a big lesson (which was, of course... you guessed it, 'priceless') accompanied by a series of songs along the way for the things I just couldn't find the words for... well, this person responded in kind with a list of their own songs for me, and I've decided this one is one to live by... Eric Bibb, Shine On: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZvd_OZ_Lvs
'Stories. We spend our life telling them.
About this, about that, about people.
But some... some stories are so good,
You wish they'd never end.
They are so good, that we'll go without sleep
Just to see a little bit more
Sometimes stories bring us laughter
and sometimes they bring us tears.
But isn't that what a great story does?
It makes you feel.
Stories that are so powerful,
they really are with us forever.'
Depending on the day, it moves me in different ways, but always strikes a nerve... maybe because a lot of my stories and chapters have been closing over the past year or two and wow they were powerful but I wouldn't trade them for anything. And they will be with me forever, in a good way.
Music moves me like that as well. On some days over the past couple of years I have actually left my iPod at home, banning myself from music in an effort to tune out my feelings as well. But many days have passed since then - and many baby steps have gradually been taken in rejection of that mentality - not feeling is just not for me, I've always been someone who feels deeply, I just can't live any other way. It took me a long time to realise that it's okay to surround myself with people in my life who can celebrate and embrace that part of me instead of continuing to try to mold myself into something I'm not. I'll take the ups, I'll take the downs, bring it on.
How does one really experience life without all of the above?
In response to an email I sent to one of my dear friends a while back when I was in a pretty sad place, breaking some bittersweet news and how I was feeling about waving the white flag - expressed in a 'signature odd me' sort of way - think Mastercard commercial script, the end culminating in a big lesson (which was, of course... you guessed it, 'priceless') accompanied by a series of songs along the way for the things I just couldn't find the words for... well, this person responded in kind with a list of their own songs for me, and I've decided this one is one to live by... Eric Bibb, Shine On: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZvd_OZ_Lvs
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)