There really are some beautiful places and moments that I would love to share:
-Students running across the street or square shouting, "HELLO TEACHER! TEACHER! HELLO!"
-Finding fourth-grade arms wrapped around my waist, or the former student who smiles and says "I love you teacher!" whenever our paths cross.
-Watching egrets, herons, and other long-legged waterfowl glowing pink in the twilight as I walk to work
-Successfully giving directions to a mototaxi driver, and the laughs I get when I say, "No, I don't really speak Thai. I understand a little, but I'm a foreigner. Speak I cannot." And later, "Thai food is delicious, Thai women are beautiful, but Thai drivers are horrible," all in Thai.
-When I go back to the same lady who makes the best papaya salad and grilled chicken in town, and she proudly explains to onlookers that I really do like it traditional Thai style except that even though peppers are delicious, they hurt my belly.
-The smile when I stumble through an order with the lady who sells pig whatnots--as I ask for twenty baht of belly and point to my ear, she laughs and corrects me; she absolutely loves when I make up some word and ask for 20 TB of nonsense while pointing at my nose; she always asks me to say it a few times amid gales of laughter, just about ensuring that I won't remember the actual term.
-The wonderful, anti-drug pharmacist lady who has given me much of the best medical advice I've received, who has a slight German accent and always flags me down to ask how I'm doing.
But then there are so many disgusting things--all the therapeutic unloading (which is to say, "bitching and moaning") I do on here, the pollution and grime and unavoidable stenches of sewer and charcoal and burning trash, the bruises on the nice butcher lady's neck, deciding that "Giardia with something else and a nasty leg infection" is good news because it's an actual diagnosis, debating whether staph or elephantiasis would be a better diagnosis, trying to figure out how to clean up myself and the squatter stall using half a bucket of larvae-infested water--that I wish I had a better alternative than sticking out this gig through a better one or improved health.
What I would love to share are the personal matters. I came here with the presence or near shadows of many unpleasant things that I have since dropped, and now have many more things of which I would crow praises to the world:
-The joys of being positive and working with likeminded individuals (even if 9 years old) toward a greater happiness.
-Metta meditation, the conscientious practice of spreading lovingkindness to self, surroundings, loved ones, feared and hated ones, and the world at large. I stumbled on this not long after one of the bike wrecks and can attest to a firm belief that month after month of practicing being happy and loving and fulfilled has improved my daily life.
-What I'll call "Prayerful Visualization," or spending more time flat on my back with my legs up on the wall to drain the edemas while picturing how great things could be--camping on the beach, climbing waterfalls, exploring trails, camping in the national parks, learning to be a cultural--not medical--tourist, having stamina for an actual gym workout, jogging through the park, teaching a full day without an emergency bathroom run. So far, this has been an utter flop, but it makes my head feel better for spending some time in a happier place, and it makes my legs happier for giving the edemas a chance to drain.
-Scripture study. So far, I've read straight through the Torah, the New Testament, the Quaran, Dhammapada, Lotus and Diamond Sutras, and now I'm going back with more nuanced study. What I love is the commonality: here's how to be a good person, and here's why and why not people succeed and fail. And at the same time, I love how utterly distinct each book is in its theories and means. Why, exactly, should you not eat pig? Or shrimp? Or cow? Of course people are killed for X, but consider Y; who's the worse transgressor?
-The daily application thereof, i.e. when a group of kids surrounded me, said something in Thai until I repeated it, and then started screaming "TEACHER JACKOFF TEACHER JACKOFF JACKOFF JACKOFF JACKOFF!"and I tried to focus on their one day growing up to be kind and considerate daddies.
What gets me is the sense that I've justifiably paid off any witting karmic debt, and the firm belief that I've atoned for more than I've acquired in this or the past couple of lives, I still keep getting the opportunity to incorporate new and previously horrible conditions experiences into my daily reality.
And at this point, I sit back, look at myself, and wonder what it'll take to stick out this gig until I have a better stateside alternative.
-Students running across the street or square shouting, "HELLO TEACHER! TEACHER! HELLO!"
-Finding fourth-grade arms wrapped around my waist, or the former student who smiles and says "I love you teacher!" whenever our paths cross.
-Watching egrets, herons, and other long-legged waterfowl glowing pink in the twilight as I walk to work
-Successfully giving directions to a mototaxi driver, and the laughs I get when I say, "No, I don't really speak Thai. I understand a little, but I'm a foreigner. Speak I cannot." And later, "Thai food is delicious, Thai women are beautiful, but Thai drivers are horrible," all in Thai.
-When I go back to the same lady who makes the best papaya salad and grilled chicken in town, and she proudly explains to onlookers that I really do like it traditional Thai style except that even though peppers are delicious, they hurt my belly.
-The smile when I stumble through an order with the lady who sells pig whatnots--as I ask for twenty baht of belly and point to my ear, she laughs and corrects me; she absolutely loves when I make up some word and ask for 20 TB of nonsense while pointing at my nose; she always asks me to say it a few times amid gales of laughter, just about ensuring that I won't remember the actual term.
-The wonderful, anti-drug pharmacist lady who has given me much of the best medical advice I've received, who has a slight German accent and always flags me down to ask how I'm doing.
But then there are so many disgusting things--all the therapeutic unloading (which is to say, "bitching and moaning") I do on here, the pollution and grime and unavoidable stenches of sewer and charcoal and burning trash, the bruises on the nice butcher lady's neck, deciding that "Giardia with something else and a nasty leg infection" is good news because it's an actual diagnosis, debating whether staph or elephantiasis would be a better diagnosis, trying to figure out how to clean up myself and the squatter stall using half a bucket of larvae-infested water--that I wish I had a better alternative than sticking out this gig through a better one or improved health.
What I would love to share are the personal matters. I came here with the presence or near shadows of many unpleasant things that I have since dropped, and now have many more things of which I would crow praises to the world:
-The joys of being positive and working with likeminded individuals (even if 9 years old) toward a greater happiness.
-Metta meditation, the conscientious practice of spreading lovingkindness to self, surroundings, loved ones, feared and hated ones, and the world at large. I stumbled on this not long after one of the bike wrecks and can attest to a firm belief that month after month of practicing being happy and loving and fulfilled has improved my daily life.
-What I'll call "Prayerful Visualization," or spending more time flat on my back with my legs up on the wall to drain the edemas while picturing how great things could be--camping on the beach, climbing waterfalls, exploring trails, camping in the national parks, learning to be a cultural--not medical--tourist, having stamina for an actual gym workout, jogging through the park, teaching a full day without an emergency bathroom run. So far, this has been an utter flop, but it makes my head feel better for spending some time in a happier place, and it makes my legs happier for giving the edemas a chance to drain.
-Scripture study. So far, I've read straight through the Torah, the New Testament, the Quaran, Dhammapada, Lotus and Diamond Sutras, and now I'm going back with more nuanced study. What I love is the commonality: here's how to be a good person, and here's why and why not people succeed and fail. And at the same time, I love how utterly distinct each book is in its theories and means. Why, exactly, should you not eat pig? Or shrimp? Or cow? Of course people are killed for X, but consider Y; who's the worse transgressor?
-The daily application thereof, i.e. when a group of kids surrounded me, said something in Thai until I repeated it, and then started screaming "TEACHER JACKOFF TEACHER JACKOFF JACKOFF JACKOFF JACKOFF!"and I tried to focus on their one day growing up to be kind and considerate daddies.
What gets me is the sense that I've justifiably paid off any witting karmic debt, and the firm belief that I've atoned for more than I've acquired in this or the past couple of lives, I still keep getting the opportunity to incorporate new and previously horrible conditions experiences into my daily reality.
And at this point, I sit back, look at myself, and wonder what it'll take to stick out this gig until I have a better stateside alternative.
I really like these last musings. It's nice to go through life being philosophical about pain, but it really is just better not to have it. Knowing how to be happy is the main thing, and I think you've really found it. I've been reading through my mission journals and found something you'd relate to: People would often yell whatever english they knew to me as I'd pass them. The things the men yelled are not repeatable. One guy was saying foul things to me as he approached, then goosed me as he passed me. I knew I could club him pretty well, he being only 5 feet tall or so, but then I thought, "It's not wise to hit a man carrying a machete." THEN I thought, "Missionaries shouldn't go around hitting people." I think I had my priorities turned around there. I also didn't realize that I was sick for a good 75% of the time I was in Honduras. I just don't remember it because that wasn't the important part of being there. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteLinda