You are currently browsing the category archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ category.
Originally posted on OnStage Dance Company website blog:
What do I do?
I dance.
And I travel. And I work. And cook. And eat. And teach. And fail. And laugh. And write. And sometimes run. And sometimes not. And I explore. And get lost. Very often. And also trip. And I love. And create. And I procrastinate, unfortunately, more than I’d like to admit.
Oh, and I read.
And recently I read a book entitled The Geography of Bliss and I want to tell you a little something about it. No, it is not a self-help read, although maybe, in a way, I suppose it is. The book follows NPR correspondent Eric Weiner as he travels the world in search of the happiest place on Earth. Despite the adage, I often judge books by their covers, and the world map folded into a paper airplane ready to launch, pictured on the front of this memoir, drew me immediately to the outdoor sale rack of a locally-owned bookshop. I have a small but aggressive strand of wanderlust, and when I can’t be traipsing the globe, displacing myself into different landscapes and cultures, I enjoy living vicariously– this time, through self-proclaimed grump Eric Weiner.
The book was really good; you should read it! But, I digress. As he travels from one country to the next, West to East and back again, Weiner explores positive psychology from all angles and landscapes—unpacking the different ways we define happiness and seek it; how we quantify it, and how it manifests in ways beyond measure. In addressing some of these differences, he notes that each country has a “cocktail party question”—a simple, one-sentence query which, based on that population’s priorities and interests “unlocks a motherlode of information about the person you’ve just met.” In Switzerland, he observes, it is “where [what town] are you from?” In Britain, “What school did you attend?” I think in Ecuador the question would probably be “What do your parents do for a living?” and in Thailand, perhaps “How much money do you make?” or “Can you eat spicy?”
Take any or all of these with a grain of salt, of course, but I really think that Weiner may have hit the nail on the head for the good ole U.S. of A:
What do you do?
Truly. Have you noticed? This itty bitty sentence– these four, one-syllable words, strung together with upward inflection– are inserted into nearly every new encounter. I know what you’re thinking– harmless, right? Perhaps, but speaking as someone who is in a state of professional “transition” (as I like to call it), and was un[der]employed for the better part of last year, let me tell you that I have developed a strong aversion to the cocktail party question. What do I do? Is this what I want to be doing? Does it bring me pride? Fulfillment? Self-worth? Is what I do to pay (or not) the bills really what makes me “me”? I’ll spare you the nitty-gritty, but suffice it to say that, for me, 2013 was largely a minor existential crisis.
So what does this disjointed mess of a blog post have to do with OnStage Dance Company?
I danced my entire life—from “animal crackers in my soup” at age three, up through college, after which point other goals, adventures, jobs, passions, pursuits, and probably excuses let the performance-based dance that I love fall to the wayside. I don’t regret any of these goals, adventures, jobs, ect. The past five years have been challenging and remarkable. But dancing is part of the very fibers of who I am.
I’ve never been the best dancer in any group of which I’ve ever been a part; my technique certainly leaves plenty to be desired. But when people see me dancing, I believe that they can see my love for it. I believe that this love shines out my fingertips and toes and elbows and eyeballs, and that they understand something that is more fundamental to who I am than waiting tables or answering telephones could ever be. Dance is expression in its most rudimentary form—requiring no tools, no instruments outside from your own body and mind. It is celebratory. It is poetic. It is collaborative and it is athletic. It is the most satisfying mix of creativity and endorphins.
Dancing again, for the first time in years, was part of an effort to shift my focus from what I did not know to what I do. I’m still searching for a better sense of geography– of my own place and purpose in this world– but in the meantime I’ve managed to accept this uncertainty and turn toward those things that I know bring me happiness. Dancing with OnStage this past season was an opportunity to stretch my body and soul in a way I hadn’t in some time, and to meet a wonderful community of people who share that passion. Dancing and friends. These are things that make sense to me. These are things that bring me bliss.
I know that this story is not unique. I know that these are the questions of many-a-20-something-year-old, and it is unnerving, though also strangely comforting, to realize that these also may be the same questions of so many older and wiser than me. For the time being, I am following my bliss, and I think that that is a good strategy. Even as the uncertainty moves aside to make way for stronger, clearer goals, I hope to always remain committed to a more holistic definition of “self” than what I do to pay the bills.
I’ve never been a whiz at math, but I do know that the sum is always greater than its parts, and I believe that I am greater for the arts.
Sometimes, being a farang in Thailand feels a lot like being a celebrity. Take it from someone who knows nothing about being a celebrity– the experiences are nearly identical.
Living in Thailand, especially in a city like Suphan where foreigners are few and far between, everyone wants in on your business. People are always wanting to know who you are, and what you story is, and where are you going, and do you have a lover? And people look at you a lot. And not discreetly, either. This isn’t like when you’re staring at someone in a daze, and just as they catch you in the act you quickly shift your attention to some intensely fascinating ceramic mug to avoid the embarrassment of having been (GASP!) looking at someone! I’m talking about shameless, full-on, bug-eyed staring… often paired with some very dramatic pointing and lots and lots of giggling.
Of course, in Suphan we white folk stick out like extremely irritated thumbs. So there’s that. But you can’t tell anyone to “take a picture– it’ll last longer,” because they probably already have. I’ve been living in Thailand for seven months now, and this is one phenomenon that will never stop being hilarious to me. Just imagine seeing some Asian tourists in Boston and asking if you could take a photograph with them- you know, because they’re Asian. WHAT?!?!? This doesn’t happen in the U.S. It would be rude! Racist, even. But in Thailand, you could be visiting a beautiful temple, admiring a lovely sea vista, mesmerized, perhaps, by a man twirling a flaming baton on his pinky-toe from the top of an 8-story human pyramid… and somehow you often end up feeling like the foreigners are the main event.
The first time this happened to me was at the aquarium during my first weekend in Suphanburi. People were prancing around dressed as giant Nemo-fish and sharks– offering up hugs and Kodak moments to happy families– but this woman wasn’t interested in these characters. Oh, no… she wanted to pose with me. And her baby thought I was an alien.
Then there was a trip to Erawan Falls. My friend Micah and I were just about to begin our trek back down the falls when a Thai couple approached us. The guy wanted a picture with me, the girl with Micah.. you know, because we’re foreign.
Here’s a shot of me with some Thai kiddies at a temple in Saraburi:
And a monk at the Sala Kaew Ku Sculpture Park in Nong Khai who paused in his viewing of the massive Buddhist/Hindi statues for a photo opp with yours truly…
Monks aren’t allowed to touch women… hence the awkward distance in this picture
Naturally, when these people ask to take a picture with me, I ask them to take one on my camera as well. I thought that this shot with the monk was nicely symbiotic– I usually avoid taking photographs of monks because it feels too invasive, but he asked first! How could I deny a monk such a gift? 🙂
And I must admit, though awkward, it is flattering. And Thai people alwaysask. It might be considered rude in the States, but folks there don’t seem to have any qualms about sneaking photos of unsuspecting people with their iPhones and posting them on Facebook; no doubt with some snarky and condescending remark alongside for the world to laugh at. The Thais always ask, and it always seems entirely innocent. I do wonder, though, what becomes of all of these photos? Do you have a Facebook album dedicated to your farang-sightings? Are you saving up for a photo collage? Or am I posted on your refrigerator via magnet? Just another one of the great mysteries of Thailand.
But, I’ve saved the best for last!
My sister, bro, bro-in-law, and cousin had a run-in with the Thai paparazzi like I’ve never seen before! It all started while we were exploring Railay Island. The late-afternoon sun was at just that perfect spot in the sky so to make the Andaman Sea look like an ocean of glittering diamonds,and the massive limestone cliffs jutting out of it were silhouetted against the blue. We agreed that it would be a nice place to get a group shot, so we asked a Thai man if he’d mind taking a picture for us. After showing him how to work my sister’s camera, the five of us wrapped our arms around each others’ shoulders, smiled, and said “cheese!” We thanked our cameraman, and just as we were waiing him goodbye, two Thai women in wide-rimmed sunhats ran on up to us and asked for a photo. So, the seven of us posed for another shot. We again thanked everyone, and just as we were about to part ways another three ladies ran over wanting in on the photo, too.
And that’s when the sky opened up and a storm of Thai people gave way. We were swarmed. People were running up to us from all corners of the beach– diving in front of us, throwing up the deuces,flailing their arms in the air as they yelled at Cameraman to “Wait!!!” All of the sudden we had gone from taking our own family picture to being the centerpieces in a Thai family’s vacation photo. I couldn’t stop laughing… it was a freaking riot! I can’t even imagine what my siblings were thinking. Dan managed to escape the mob so he could snag a shot of the insanity as well:
one big happy family!
Once the madness died down, it still wasn’t over. Then we had to take the small-group shots:
Who has a gorgeous farang girl on either side of him??? THIS guy.
Ever wonder what it feels like to be famous? To have fans and tabloids all after you for a photo opportunity? Well, a visit to Thailand, might just be a quicker and easier way to scratch that itch than actually making a name for yourself. It’s a bit awkward in the way that so many things that I don’t totally understand here leave me feeling a little bit awkward, but it is so harmless, and flattering, even. As the crowd dispersed, the women in the sunhats kept on telling Erin, Danielle, and I that we were “suay maak”… very beautiful girls! And honestly– who doesn’t like to hear that?
This has gone too far. I’m cutting myself off from contemplative journal entries for a while. After this.
I think that I’ve overcome the worst of my shlump, and that is in a large part thanks to the the positive energy so many have sent my way. It was a jarring attitude shift- to feel so suddenly exhausted. I am so often overcome with a deep sigh of gratitude here; a feeling of being so insanely and unfairly lucky to be here. It was easy to berate myself for feeling down because, honestly, I am living in Thailand, man! Why should I be anything but enthused? But, the truth is, it is natural to have your ups and downs, no matter how lucky you are, and I am thankful for the words of empathy and encouragement and insight that have reminded me of that.
Meandering around TESCO Lotus last week, having basket-ed all of the items on my shopping list, I started wondering if the exhaustion would be permanent… if I would ever regain that same sense of awe and gratitude that I felt during “the honeymoon.” But it occurred to me then that that is up to me. It’s okay to be with my emotion and ride it out for a while– necessary, even– but it is also within my control whether I choose to dwell on it or move forward. So, that’s what I’ve done. I took a small break from studying Thai and I treated myself to a nice and relaxing Suphan weekend, involving yoga with friends,a riverside wander, and a less-than effective Thai massage performed by a woman smaller than my pinky finger. Still, I’ve readjusted my attitude and recharged my battery and I’m feeling okay.
Among other lovely folks who reached out to me after having read my emo blog post was a friend who I met in Ecuador, Jenna. She closed her email, asserting that “We travel, not to be happy all the time, or even satisfied, but to really, truly live. And at least what you’re feeling now means that you’re about a million times more alive than you would have been if you had stayed behind.” These small words of wisdom reminded me of Khalil Gibran’s The Prophet, as he speaks about joy and sorrow:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Jenna and Khalil have it right, I think. The potential that something has to bring you happiness is directly proportionate to its capacity to upset you. A place that can overwhelm me with excitement can also knock me right out with exhaustion, in the same way that the thing that brings the most laughter can cause the most tears. But we have to go after these things. We have to be willing to take the risk, because, as Jenna said, that’s what living is about. And, if you are like me, you believe that you only get one shot.
The greater the risk, the deeper the gain, the greater the journey.
More fun entries soon. Peace!
We two have paddled in the stream,
from morning sun till dine;
But seas between us broad have roared
since auld lang syne.
“Auld lang syne,” means “times gone past.” Did you know that? I did not (until a recent Google search, that is). Times gone past. It is a song about nostalgia, and yet we sing it to welcome in the new year. If fact, we spend our last 10 seconds of the last year, more if you’ve had your eyes glued to the TV for Dick Clark’s New Years Rockin’ Eve, wasting what’s left of it– counting backwards in cheerful anticipation of what is to come, only to lament what’s gone the moment the clock strikes twelve. Does this seem ironic to anyone else?
Ironic or not, the turn of the new year does have a natural way of inducing nostalgia. It offers a shining opportunity to think back upon where we were this time last year and what we’ve accomplished in the meantime. For me, this New Year’s in Thailand prompted my recollection of New Year’s 2010, and even more specifically Boxing Day 2009.
Though time and space have distanced us over the years, my high school friends always make the effort to gather together each year for a post-Christmas potluck. I have to hand it to my friend Ben– he is one of the greatest nomads I know, and doesn’t have a computer or cell phone to his name, but he deeply values his relationships and makes an unwavering effort to reach out no matter the distance. Thus, despite Facebook and Skype, and all the other mediums of technology that “bless” us with the capacity to stay in touch with the click of a mouse, it is my nomadic, technophobic (not really) friend that is the glue that holds us together, or at least the elastic band on the paddle ball board that keeps us bouncing back, year after year.
Post-Christmas Potluck 2008
On this particular Boxing Day potluck, we went around the table to share our resolutions for the coming new year. A few different factors came into play as I considered my goals for 2010. My cousin and housemate Elaine was diligently training for the Boston Marathon at the time and I had been going along for the ride (well, runs) up until then. Elaine had been inspired by another cousin, Meg, who ended up forging the way for the lot of us by running Boston ’09. I hadn’t really entertained the idea of running a marathon before Elaine started her training– I had never even ran in a 5 or 10k race before, nor had I gone further than 6 miles recreationally. But running alongside my cousin, chatting about our lives and playing air guitars at intersections, I was just at the brink of believing that this could be fun, and perhaps even attainable.
On a separate note, I was at the time in a place where I was feeling stressed and disheartened at work, and had experienced a recent heartbreak to boot. I was certainly happy with my life, but then again I am always happy with my life. I felt inert, and uninspired. Sitting around our potluck table, listening to a couple friends share stories about their recent travels in Nepal, I felt something stir in me that I had been trying to suppress. They say that the return from adventure brings with it an elixir that breeds new adventure. Maybe it was the Nepalese sweet tea they shared around the table, or maybe it was their faces glowing with excitement as they recapped their past three months, but this something inside of me, at that moment, took form.
I had thought about teaching overseas after finishing my master’s, (I had previously applied to work in Thailand, in fact) though I had been too scared to make the leap. But envy (and general discontent, for that matter) is the most worthless conceivable sentiment, I decided, and one I’d rather just delete from my emotional repository. If there is something that you want out of your life, and you have the means of attaining it, then you have to go for it. You can’t sit around waiting for happiness to show up on your doorstep, or watching others fulfill their dreams, patiently waiting for your turn to come along. Be your own happiness scout! I realize that this is perhaps a naive outlook– there are of course some wishes and yearnings that, given certain unfortunate circumstances, can never be fulfilled. But if your dreams are within your grasp, it is your responsibility to yourself, and to those who cannot, to grab them. This is what I believe now. Stories are meant to inspire, and instead of letting my friends’ stories wash over me, creating a lather of envy, I chose to drink the elixir. What right do I have to be jealous of someone else for having something I want if it is within my power to get it for myself? True and supreme happiness, for most people- the lucky ones, is a choice, but once you choose it you still need to work for it, and oftentimes you need to be willing to take a risk for it. This is what I decided in 2009. It is one of those things that you know you always knew, that you’ve heard people tell you your whole life, but to have the realization hit you with that kind of force leaves a hefty dent- a lasting impression. I decided, as the ball dropped on Dick Clark’s program, ushering in 2010, to channel Thoreau: Go forth boldly in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you imagine.
Long story short (come on- you wouldn’t be reading my blog right now if you couldn’t appreciate a lengthy story), I shared two resolutions with my post-Christmas dinner companions. In 2010, I would:
1) Run a marathon.
2) Travel. And not just travel, but travel to inspire more travel.
True to my promise, two-thousand ten saw my, Elaine, and Meg’s successful completion of our 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Copley Square, followed by a 6-week adventure in Ecuador from which I returned with my own batch of elixir. And here I am now, 2012, and living in Thailand!
My resolution for this year is to become conversational in Thai. Yes, I’ve already begun pursuing this one, but between living and working in a developing country and learning a foreign language and script, I feel quite content with the number of goals I have to focus on at the moment. And, as with the marathon and the urge to make travel a significant part of my life, while I at one time did not believe I could do it, I am now confident I will succeed in this goal. I can read a bit of Thai now (mostly menus), and can pick out some familiar words and phrases when spoken to. I showed the new year the welcome it deserved by treating myself to a week and a half-long holiday down south, during which I put my Thai to work in fishermen villages on the underdeveloped island paradises Ko Muk and Ko Bulone.
On my last night in Ko Bulone I had what could almost be described as a “conversation” with one woman from the village. I approached her as she sat pounding her itch-ily fragrant chili peppers and garlic with a mortar and pestal to ask why the village– so lively and bustling two days before, had been empty the past two days. I couldn’t catch everything she said, heck, I couldn’t catch most of what she said, but I did manage to gather that the rest of the village had gone to the mainland to trade in the marketplace, and that she had four children– Lewie, Chewie, Sophia, and another daughter who for some reason or another was living on Ko Lipe at the time. She bagged up a fish head– the unwanted remains from the dinner she was cooking up for her family, and gave it to me, calling it bplaa mong (mong fish), and instructing me to cook it in a tom yum soup. Before I left, she also invited me to eat a meal with her the next day, though I had to regretfully decline as I was scheduled to leave the island the following morning.
fish head
Man, what a high! Granted, our conversation was extremely basic, and some of what I gathered was merely intuitive, but to be able to use my Thai to talk to this woman and to ask her about her family and community, as she pounded up chili and garlic in her seaside home… to be able to understand something of what she was saying to me was just incredible, and I walked away happily swinging my bag o’ fish-head by my side.
My friend and I brought the fish head to a nearby restaurant and asked if they’d make us a tom yum. When dinner arrived, sure enough there was my fish head, hacked up and floating in the soup. They didn’t even bother to try and get the bones or eyeballs out… probably because there was next to no meat in there anyways. I thought maybe they’d supplement my fish head with some more fish– perhaps some fish mid-drift or tail, but they basically just quartered the head and boiled it right up in the broth. I’m sure the waiter and chef had a good laugh about the farangs showing up with a bagged reject-fish head and asking them to turn it into soup. But this fish head was my badge of honor- a small token of friendship from this woman who I had “conversed” with in Thai, and I was determined to see that that fish head made it to my dinner plate. Bones, and scales, and eyeballs and all, it was the most satisfying meal I’ve tasted in Thailand.
I began writing this post on New Year’s Day, but I had to leave it to catch my ride to paradise. Well, I suppose it was still New Year’s Eve for all of you in the States. Then again, it is still only 2012 for you all back home, whereas I am writing to you from the year 2555– year “zero” on the Thai’s calendar marking the death of Buddha. So, how does it feel to be reading a blog entry from the future? I guess this post would be more relevant had I actually finished it and posted it on New Years… at the very least sooner than 14 January 2555, but then again, living in Thailand right now means setting aside the nostalgia and the anticipation and living for the moment, and at the moment, the islands were calling my name 🙂
Indeed, no Auld Lang Syne was sung this year– I’ll leave you with the song and dance I used to welcome in 2555 at the Sa-Nguan Ying School faculty New Year’s party. Please keep your judgement to a minimum… we were informed the day before the party that we were expected to perform a dance, and we were taught the choreography in twenty minutes on the day of the big show. Happy New Year and enjoy!
(also, please take note of the small and fearless fairy princess running to and fro and around the stage)
The Thai teachers have some sort of mystery meeting today (presumably professional development). In the United States when this happens, the students get a half day while the teachers stay late and discuss how to make their goals SMARTERR. In Thailand (at least at Sa-Nguan Ying), the students stick around until the end of the day to clean the school until it shines like the top of the Chrysler Building. Haha… what a country this is!
To be truly challenging, a voyage, like a life, must rest on a firm foundation of financial unrest. Otherwise you are doomed to a routine traverse, the kind known to yachtsmen who play with their boats at sea… cruising, it is called. Voyaging belongs to seamen, and to the wanderers of the world who cannot, or will not, fit in. If you are contemplating a voyage and you have the means, abandon the venture until your fortunes change. Only then will you know what the sea is all about.
“I’ve always wanted to sail to the south seas, but I can’t afford it.” What these men can’t afford is not to go. They are enmeshed in the cancerous discipline of security. And in the worship of security we fling our lives beneath the wheels of routine– and before we know it our lives are gone.
What does a man need– really need? A few pounds of food each day, heat and shelter, six feet to lie down in– and some form of working activity that will yield a sense of accomplishment. That’s all– in the material sense, and we know it. But we are brainwashed by our economic system until we end up in a tomb beneath a pyramid of time payments, mortgages, preposterous gadgetry, playthings that divert our attention for the sheer idiocy of the charade. The years thunder by, the dreams of youth grow dim where they lie caked in dust on the shelves of patience. Before we know it, the tomb is sealed. Where, then, lies the answer? In choice. Which shall it be: bankruptcy of purse or bankruptcy of life?
-Sterling Hayden
A veteran teacher and globe-trotter at the high school I teach at printed this quote, from Sterling Hayden’s The Wanderer. He slipped it to me in the hallway last September, shortly after my return from my summer adventure in Ecuador. It remained posted to the cork bulletin by my desk until today, and my friend’s words still sing in my ears. “Some people figure it out too late,” he said “but you’re already there. You’re already doing it.”
There isn’t anything wrong with the quote-unquote routine traverse. I come from a family that was always able to provide for me. This is the reason that I am not shackled by college loans or buried beneath the pyramid of time payments, and they are the safety net that I know would catch me if somehow my vessel were to sink. And I know that I want a family of my own someday, and that I want to give my children the same opportunity to boldly pursue their dreams.
Still, I feel that pull of the south seas, and I know that, right now, I cannot afford not to go. Security someday, yes. But right now I am young and I am free and I fear that if I do not set sail, my dreams will follow in the wake of expectation my entire life.
This week I gave my official resignation at work. I’ve heard that I am crazy to quit my job in this economy, but I think that I might be crazier not to. The time to go after your dreams is always “now,” and as my wise friend has assured me, I’m already doing it. So, goodbye Boston, cya lata stable income, and good night old woman whispering “hush.” Hello to my adventure.
Chronicles of a Travel-Bug 