She alone is the happy woman who has learned to extract happiness, not from ideal conditions, but from the actual ones about her. The woman who has mastered the secret will not wait for ideal surroundings; she will not wait until next year, next decade, until she gets rich, until she can travel abroad … but she will make the most out of life today, where she is. Paradise is here or nowhere. You must take your joy with you or you will never find it.
I arbitrarily chose three different TED talks today to listen to. Two of them, though the topics were unrelated, had very similar thematics. They each spoke of coming “home”, returning, looking into the past; into yourself, as a means of becoming who you want to be, of finding joy in creativity, of bringing things full circle. This is intriguing because as I opened up my computer to write, before distracting myself with TED talks, my plan was to re-read & reflect upon Phil Cousineau’s excerpt of questions. The majority of these questions center around reflecting on one’s completed journey, looking back on past experiences; on who you’ve become, and looking forward to the return journey home, bringing things full circle. A coincidence? Likely, but perhaps not.
While it may be altogether egocentric to believe that random occurrences are inherently meaningful, and that they were specially placed into your life by a higher power to benefit you, specifically, one soul on this planet of billions, I still like the idea of coincidences being mythical. It is much nicer and much prettier to believe that every part of every moment is a stitch in the perfectly designed tapestry of your life, but it is my opinion that this belief cannot exist without a substantial amount of pride. I must admit, I do succumb to this pride in particularly magical moments when coincidence seems impossible.
Pride. The sin that begat all sins. In the second TED talk, David Brooks encourages his listeners to look into their past, seek a poignant, pivotal moment in their life and reflect upon how that has shaped them. He said the best way to do this is to actually think of a shameful moment, to think of the “signature sin” that has become the foundation for all other sins in your life, and how you can grow from it. (Keep in mind he is using the term “sin” generally, not in a religious context). He listed some examples. The one that highlighted itself in my mind as he spoke was “people pleaser.” Always making sure everyone else is happy & comfortable, meeting other’s needs before my own to the point of not meeting mine at all. This is also known as martyrdom. I’m not talking about when people die for something they believe in. That is often very admirable. I am talking about the martyrdom that is saturated with a “woe is me” mentality.
At one point in my life I was sick with this “sin”. Truly, I was nearly physically ill because of my dedication to keep the peace at the cost of all things related to self-care. Therefore, I feel I can say I know it well. It comes from an innate insecurity. A belief that “I am not good enough” and the idea that if we just set aside our own needs long enough to meet the needs of others, perhaps this will somehow earn us some value and establish our worth. What is the root of this and where does it come from? A prideful refusal to love yourself. This sounds oxymoronic, but it is not.
The more you set aside your own needs for the sake of enabling someone else’s happiness, the more bitter you become as your needs are not met. This bitterness leads to resentment, and you resort to random acts of selfishness, almost as a subconscious attempt to balance the scales. The vicious “woe is me” cycle continues. What’s the common thread that runs through each of stage of this cycle? I believe it is a reverse form of pride. A continual, anxiety-ridden focus on yourself; on striving to be good enough. In other words, while you’ve been so focused on everyone else loving you, you’ve forgotten to love yourself.
Some people are afraid, as I once was, to love themselves, believing that it is self-centered and lacks humility. Having come from a place of self-loathe to self-love, I now see that this is not true. (My disclaimer is this: When I say “I now see” I do not mean that I have arrived at a state of ultimate knowing. I have simply experienced a series of realizations. I am always growing & learning & seeing). The first task of learning to love yourself is self-examination. Raw, honest, stand-naked-in-front-of-the-mirror self-examination. Feel free to take that literally or figuratively. What is inevitable is that you will see flaws & failures, and you will also see virtues & successes. You will see that there are people you are greater than, and there are people you are less than. You will see yourself as the world sees you. You will see beauty. (This is very difficult at first. I found it helps to ask those that know you what they see in you.)
The next step is acceptance of what you have examined. Accepting fully that which you have seen clearly in the mirror. This does not mean that you like, love or admire everything you see. It simply means that you notice, acknowledge, and then accept what is true. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. Herein lies the humility in this process of self-love. You are not only focusing on the admirable qualities, you are seeing and accepting all of yourself with honesty.
Then say thank you. No matter what the quality or characteristic, take time to be grateful for each and every one. The more you repeat this process, the more you will grow to appreciate those things about yourself that you’ve observed. Things which you once ignored, or didn’t even know existed. The most rewarding part about this, is that as you grow to love yourself more, you actually take delight in loving and pleasing others. The actions may look the same as they did before, but now they are rooted in love, instead of feelings of worthlessness.
This was not the original intent of my writing today. In a surprisingly wonderful, unexpected way, I accomplished what I wanted, but not in the way I had planned. I began by discussing the “coincidence” of coming across my intended theme of “looking into the past” in TED talks that I never meant to listen to, and in doing so, I digressed into a conversation about pride and self-love. Subject matter that, interestingly enough, can only be discussed by looking into my past. It was not what I wanted to reflect on, but turns out it was what I needed to reflect on to prepare me for my journey home and to get my creative juices flowing. Now that’s what I call coming full circle.
“And for just a moment I had reached the point of ecstasy I had always wanted to reach, which was the complete step across chronological time into timeless shadows, and wonderment in the bleakness of the mortal realm, and the sensation of death kicking at my heels to move on, with a phantom dogging its own heels, and myself hurrying to a plank where all the angels dove off and flew into the holy void of uncreated emptiness, the potent and inconceivable radiancies shining in bright Mind Essence, innumerable lotus-lands falling open in the magic mothswarm of heaven. I could hear an indescribable seething roar which wasn’t in my ear but everywhere and had nothing to do with sounds. I realized that I had died and been reborn numberless times but just didn’t remember especially because the transitions from life to death and back to life are so ghostly easy, a magical action for naught, like falling asleep and waking up again a million times, the utter casualness and deep ignorance of it. I realized it was only because of the stability of the intrinsic Mind that these ripples of birth and death took place, like the action of wind on a sheet of pure, serene, mirror-like water. I felt sweet, swinging bliss, like a big shot of heroin in the mainline vein; like a gulp of wine late in the afternoon and it makes you shudder; my feet tingled. I thought I was going to die the very next moment. But I didn’t die…” - Jack Kerouac, “On the Road”
If there was ever an author who knew how to translate experience and emotion into words, so well that you can practically taste the essence of the moment, it was Jack Kerouac.
The ground sways from side to side. I am on the boat again. I remind myself to breathe. I am submerged. A yellow balloon bounces slowly across the ground in my periphery. My mind hiccups. Is that a butterfly fish? Palms sway - soft coral, inverted. I reach up to touch my hair. It is not sticky with salt water. I wish that it was, though yesterday I cursed it.
Memories of another world flood my mind. I am weightless, mesmerized. Rainbow-scaled moon wrasse swim playfully around my hands and between my legs. Damsels of every color swim in figure-eights, keeping a watchful distance. A clown fish darts in and out of his anemone home. With a smile I mutter the novice diver’s cliche, “I found Nemo!” Suddenly, I am nose to nose with a turtle. It takes the red algae from my hand greedily, it’s leathery beak brushing against my fingers. For a second we lock eyes, then it begins to push past me.
I blink and realize I am nose to nose with a tourist, looking at me quizzically as she hurries onwards. A few moments and I am back to reality. I walk aimlessly, feeling heavy. I find a place to sit where the sunlight dances and the ground beneath me sways again. The breeze becomes the current and I am in my dream world again. Dreams that were once my reality - just days ago. Days that feel like ages. Ages that feel like another life.
When will I get to dream again?
“Imagine your return journey as the last act of an epic story. Which moments gleamed brighter, gave you pause, challenged all your previous beliefs, reconfirmed your belief in the power at the center? How did you happen upon them? Were they self-willed, the result of punctilious planning, or were they serendipitous? Did you feel any strange visitations of joy? Can you recapture them now that you are home?
"Epiphanies sometimes flash and flare for pilgrims, but there are also flickering moments of discovery on your journey, seen out of the corner of your eye. Small joys, humble experiences…
"You knew these things about people and places before you left home, but you had forgotten them. This journey reminded you of the sacred rhythms. How will you remember to remember when you return home?” -Phil Cousineau
My goodness… How does one begin? Where does one begin? An ironic question given that the subject matter at hand is “how does one end such a journey?” But the journey is never really over, is it? These questions make my heart race the same way similar questions did when given to me as a writing exercise from my English teachers. I remember the feeling clearly, for I am feeling it even now, well over ten years later. The prospect of examining one’s thoughts beyond the average depth of the daily requirement; the opportunity to kick the restrictive, proverbial box aside and dive into the unknown waters of one’s creativity; finding new & original ways to describe things; the never-ending, and somewhat futile, challenge of transforming interpretation of experience and emotion into noun, verb and adjective…
Then there’s the flow. My readers may tire of hearing me mention this, but having become consciously aware of this phenomenon, I cannot imagine ignoring it. It is the essence of optimum experience. When I am writing and my disjointed, clumsy beginning turns into a stream-of-consciousness, nearly-other-worldly experience of words appearing before me, as if unbidden by a force greater than myself - for me, that is one of the most powerful flow experiences I can have. To think… that it all begins from a simple challenge to exercise one’s thoughts; a question that beckons my curiosity: “What will you create today, Wordsmith?”
Of all the facets of Christian belief, one of my favorites is the idea of being created in the image of God. While the fact of God’s existence is yet empirically unknown, if there was any evidence for me, it would be the perfect, mathematical designs found in nature (i.e. the Golden Ratio), and my very own desire to create. Should I choose faith over fact, these would be the reasons for doing so.
Only now do I realize that I haven’t even begun to answer Cousineau’s questions. The impact of his questioning alone was enough to put pen to paper. There are so many avenues to explore with this simple excerpt! How thrilling - how marvelous - is the adrenaline of inspiration!
“A good traveler does not, I think, mind much the uninteresting places. He is there to be inside them, as a thread is inside the necklace it strings. The world, with unknown and unexpected variety, is a part of his own leisure; and this living participation is, I think, what separates the traveler and the tourist, who remains separate, as if he were at a theatre, and not himself a part of whatever the show may be.” - Freya Stark
What does it mean, for me, to be a “good traveler”? To be in “living participation?” I agree with Freya. It is just as important for one (in this case, me) to be an active participant in both the interesting and uninteresting places:
Swimming without hesitation across cold waters in order to clamber across slippery rocks behind Milaa Milaa Falls. Engaging with my fellow bus passengers in friendly banter. Singing unashamedly (and loudly) with the bus driver to the songs on his ridiculous playlist. Taking time to sit and enjoy a coffee at a random moment in a random place, rather than as take-away (as if I have somewhere important I needed to be??) Making a plan to make no plans, except to hold a pen purposefully should I feel so inclined. Asking the hostel staff about their lives rather than just expecting them to help me plan mine.
All of these things are a combination of both the interesting and the uninteresting, and all of them are made meaningful by intentionality. That is, being intentional about my interaction with my current setting, especially in relation to people. Even if someone lives in a place that I am merely passing through, I am no more a traveler than they are. We are all pilgrims of something. As such, we must never forget to stop and recognize all our fellow travelers as seekers, just like ourselves. And as seekers, we are, also, all living participants. May we all make the permanent transition from the spectator-tourist to the “good traveler”!
