No pictures, just my thoughts

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There is a cadence and rhythm to our days here that is conducive to thinking less, but thinking in a more focused way than I usually do at home. If at home my average speed of doing/thinking/planning/deciding is 60 mph, now I’m going about 35. Actually, my TOP speed here is probably 35, and my average is probably closer to 20. I think a lot less, or maybe it's just I think only about one thing at a time. I am more in the moment, rather than thinking about the next seven things I need to do.

I haven’t made a list in days and days. It hasn’t even occurred to me. We rarely know in advance more than one thing we’re going to do in a given day and the rest unfolds based on our whims and on opportunities that present themselves, and it often changes midstream. It is a rare kind of freedom.

I read, I write, I take pictures. We eat when we’re hungry - sometimes we go out to a restaurant, sometimes we eat fruit and cereal in our room, sometimes Jaz has a macaroni and cheese craving and I go out on my bike at 9pm to see if Kraft Mac & Cheese can be found anywhere in this town (only one place!) and then we cook it in our aluminum coffee pot. We talk to Steve via Skype some mornings and evenings. I go out for bike rides without any idea of where I will go. (One evening I ended up at Angkor Wat at sunset.) I have odd dreams that reflect some kind of processing that is going on in my head, well below the surface. I drink bad instant coffee some mornings, and I drink beer every day. I smoke cigarettes. I play with the little kids who live at the guest house - though they much prefer Jaz.

Lori and I have long and interesting conversations about her choices in life and how she came to be here. Jaz and I have long and interesting conversations about how she would genuinely like to just stay here, and how sad she will be to leave. I watch her plan her computer class and sort English exams into neat piles organized by skill level and take off alone on her bike and I am amazed at how competent she is. Then I remind her to drink more water and brush her teeth and I cut up a watermelon for her because she finds it too daunting, and we laugh about how much she still lets me be her mom.

I’m not doing as much as I could, or thought I would. I have hours every day of free time. I could teach more, or volunteer in the orphanage, but I don’t, at least not yet. I am doing less, and just being more. And that feels about right for now.

The only thing I miss is Steve. (And maybe Diet Mountain Dew. 😊) I have a wonderful life and a cozy house and a wonderful job to go home to, but I don’t miss it. I don’t miss feeling competent, or being the person with the answers - in fact, I relish being the person with the questions. (And sometimes there are no answers to the questions I have.) How long could I stay here before that would get old? How long before I would miss that feeling of being the go-to person, or before I would start creating a role in which I could feel it again? I have no idea, but I hope someday to find out.

This is truly a vacation, even if we are “working” a bit, and sometimes sweltering in the hot, dusty, exhaust-choked air, and sometimes witnessing things that can be difficult to see. If a vacation is an opportunity to get outside your everyday life, and your everyday self, and see who you are when you’re not in your element, this is a vacation. But it’s so much more. It makes me squirm when people say, “Oh, it’s so wonderful what you’re doing…” because I know they’re referring to what they think we’re contributing here, but I know what we’re doing is wonderful for us, because of what we’re receiving in the process.

This opportunity is a gift, and I feel more than a little selfish about giving it to myself, while I feel grateful to be able to provide it for Jaz. I wish we had been able to do the same for all our kids, but times and money and life was different when they were younger, and it wasn’t possible. It is a gift I hope they will give themselves one day, if they want it.



Who would have imagined this 18 months ago? In the fall of 2007 when my mother asked me to plan her 65th birthday trip and keep our destination a surprise, I chose Southeast Asia because it was somewhere neither of us had been. I never imagined it would blossom into this return trip, this love affair with this place. But I knew when I got here last year that I would need to return.

I love that we can’t always imagine what we’ll be doing a year or two from now, and at the same time, I feel immensely privileged to have the means to make something like this happen when I want to. While I cannot begin to express my gratitude for Steve’s support of this venture, I can’t wait until the next time I’m here because I know he will be with me. And then I wish all the kids would come, if they want, as well as any friends or family who are up for the adventure - though I am well aware that this isn’t for everyone.

But this is right for me, for now. I am reminded of a sign in my chiropractor’s office that says, “Relax, you’re in the right place.” While the chiropractor’s office may be a good place to be, this is better. I am relaxed, and I am in the right place.

And I am so damn lucky.

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Comments

[toki]

in the moment
Being "in the moment" is something many of us forget about and as a result miss out on many wonderful moments! Reading your blogs before leaving work each night is a great way to end a work day, thank you!