July 2010 Archives
On my plane ride to Bali one month ago, I had a few moments of minor insanity, major paranoia, and full-on anxiety. Sometimes these feelings were felt separately, but most of the time they hit me all rolled into one. I wrote a lot both as I got further and further from China and as I spent the first week or so in Bali; adjusting to my thoughts and emotions. The main topic being the difficulty of being caught between a life I love and a loving life. As much as I had been desperately wanting to get onto the next plane to Helsinki ever since the moment I got back to Beijing. I also tried hard to take advantage of those last few months in that space - living that life. And in the transition between these two chapters, there was a three week adjusting place.
Yes, Bali is one of the best places in the world for someone to be. On many, if not all, accounts. I mean, what other places have stone gods of protection with their black and white fabrics staving off evil around every corner? What other place has people preparing and blessing every inch of the ground you walk on and even the air we breath? But I had a hard time there this round. I guess not all rounds are winners, and even 'paradise' becomes reality at some point. What's more, reality always seems to involve one constant - me - and all the drama I brew up in my mind.
In any event, on the plane from Singapore to Denpasar, I was trying to switch gears and to look at the situation with my glass half full and to meditate on the positive. In my journal I wrote: "The last three years have sucked my spirituality and emotional stability dry. At the expense of growing in other areas, I lost my faith in my individuality and even my faith in myself. I hope to regain these things in Bali. To re-centre and start the next chapter stronger both mentally, physically, and what I feel to be most importantly, spiritually."
However, even when we have great plans that the universe would be crazy not to want to agree with, sometimes it still turns out to be more difficult than it should be. Even when trying to attain righteous goals such as my own - a little hiccup here, and a pothole there makes you wonder if you're doing the right thing. Because 'it' always has other plans. Always.
So even though I was armed with some new books, some fun projects, and a group of great friends to be with, I spent the majority of June alone. Thoughtful and open, yet frustrated and anxious. Even now after having the three weeks there to basically just sit and wait and even more time to adjust and contemplate, I wasn't and am still not sure what that was all about. What the point was. But maybe sometimes times and places and people along the way don't really need a point.
During all that time alone I spent a large portion of it walking, running, sitting, reading, and writing at the ocean side. And thinking of the usual conundrums like: Am I an activist? What is activism? Do I even deserve that title, and if so, can I or do I want to accept it's responsibility?
I started analyzing my dreams for hours after reading Freud, and tried meditating on nothing after reading an essay about everything. I thought of a few new business ideas, and other randoms, including the amazing race - wedding, which I figure I'll have to pitch to HBO when I get the chance.
One particularly memorable moment was when I was walking along one of my favorite surf beaches, Nusa Dua. It is a resort where mostly wealthy Russians and Chinese go. I like it there because there is a great little point break that not many people go to, and I'm only moderately ashamed to say that, it's also cause there is a Starbucks.
It was early and I walked down to the shore. There were mainly workers out on the beach raking garbage and burying it into holes. And as I walked past them to put my toes in the ocean for the first time of the day - normally a beautifully spiritual moment - I stopped and looked down. To this.
And I was disgusted by the local customs of throwing garbage on the roads and into the water systems. Then even more by their ignorant way of burying or burning it. This plastic. It's devastating the environment. Our environment is being devastated! I wanted to scream this to everyone and anyone. How dare they!? Those uneducated people!
Then almost in the same instant as my anger burned the hottest, I started to laugh. Who is the bad guy here? As I stand here doing nothing, with a plastic frappucccino cup in my hand. They say when you point a finger, there are three pointing back at you. Who's worse? The local kid who throws his two cent pop bottle in the river, or the wealthy foreigner traveling thousands of kilometers by plane to buy things they don't need in plastic bottle and for exorbitant prices who adds even more stress and strain to the local environment in their own way? So I sat there for a bit. Thinking of that. I sat there for the day actually. I didn't know what else to do.
Anyways, of course it wasn't all just killing me slowly with my thoughts. I was saved by myself, a few times, by a group whom I like to call Team ANZAC (Australia, New Zealand And Canada). Together we went to a place that truly was paradise. Nusa Lembongan. The full moon there was a sight in itself, let alone the reefs, beaches, locals farming seaweed, etc.
The main industry is seaweed farming on Lembongan Island. Tourism comes a close second but you'd never know it. About 20-30 white faces get dropped onto the island every day, while at the same time approximately the same amount leave.
When the tide goes out, entire villages (any age, any gender, any ability or health condition) heads out to theses posts that can be seen from the beach and cuts away all the seaweed that's grown that day. They fill up their boats and come to shore. From the boats they fill up large buckets and carry them to the fields where they sit for days to dry. Once it's completely dried a farmer sells his seaweed for 1USD per pound. Generally to Jakarta or direct to Japan. The seaweed is used for cosmetics. The farmers and their entire families make from 2 USD to 5 USD per day. And this is where they all live.
Nusa Lembongan was the highlight of my travels this June. Thanks to Cat, we all go to see do and try things no tourist does. Part of what made even more exciting was the ferry ride to get to there. This was the ultimate ghetto ferry, with people puking off the side of the top and it landing on the people below. And then throwing themselves onto the beach when the waves were 5 feet high since that was the only way off.
Lastly, in the midst of it all I was running one night and came across my first surf competition.
Here (in the air above the wave) is the champ.
Yes, Bali is one of the best places in the world for someone to be. On many, if not all, accounts. I mean, what other places have stone gods of protection with their black and white fabrics staving off evil around every corner? What other place has people preparing and blessing every inch of the ground you walk on and even the air we breath? But I had a hard time there this round. I guess not all rounds are winners, and even 'paradise' becomes reality at some point. What's more, reality always seems to involve one constant - me - and all the drama I brew up in my mind.In any event, on the plane from Singapore to Denpasar, I was trying to switch gears and to look at the situation with my glass half full and to meditate on the positive. In my journal I wrote: "The last three years have sucked my spirituality and emotional stability dry. At the expense of growing in other areas, I lost my faith in my individuality and even my faith in myself. I hope to regain these things in Bali. To re-centre and start the next chapter stronger both mentally, physically, and what I feel to be most importantly, spiritually."
However, even when we have great plans that the universe would be crazy not to want to agree with, sometimes it still turns out to be more difficult than it should be. Even when trying to attain righteous goals such as my own - a little hiccup here, and a pothole there makes you wonder if you're doing the right thing. Because 'it' always has other plans. Always.
So even though I was armed with some new books, some fun projects, and a group of great friends to be with, I spent the majority of June alone. Thoughtful and open, yet frustrated and anxious. Even now after having the three weeks there to basically just sit and wait and even more time to adjust and contemplate, I wasn't and am still not sure what that was all about. What the point was. But maybe sometimes times and places and people along the way don't really need a point.
During all that time alone I spent a large portion of it walking, running, sitting, reading, and writing at the ocean side. And thinking of the usual conundrums like: Am I an activist? What is activism? Do I even deserve that title, and if so, can I or do I want to accept it's responsibility? I started analyzing my dreams for hours after reading Freud, and tried meditating on nothing after reading an essay about everything. I thought of a few new business ideas, and other randoms, including the amazing race - wedding, which I figure I'll have to pitch to HBO when I get the chance.
One particularly memorable moment was when I was walking along one of my favorite surf beaches, Nusa Dua. It is a resort where mostly wealthy Russians and Chinese go. I like it there because there is a great little point break that not many people go to, and I'm only moderately ashamed to say that, it's also cause there is a Starbucks.
It was early and I walked down to the shore. There were mainly workers out on the beach raking garbage and burying it into holes. And as I walked past them to put my toes in the ocean for the first time of the day - normally a beautifully spiritual moment - I stopped and looked down. To this.
And I was disgusted by the local customs of throwing garbage on the roads and into the water systems. Then even more by their ignorant way of burying or burning it. This plastic. It's devastating the environment. Our environment is being devastated! I wanted to scream this to everyone and anyone. How dare they!? Those uneducated people!Then almost in the same instant as my anger burned the hottest, I started to laugh. Who is the bad guy here? As I stand here doing nothing, with a plastic frappucccino cup in my hand. They say when you point a finger, there are three pointing back at you. Who's worse? The local kid who throws his two cent pop bottle in the river, or the wealthy foreigner traveling thousands of kilometers by plane to buy things they don't need in plastic bottle and for exorbitant prices who adds even more stress and strain to the local environment in their own way? So I sat there for a bit. Thinking of that. I sat there for the day actually. I didn't know what else to do.
Anyways, of course it wasn't all just killing me slowly with my thoughts. I was saved by myself, a few times, by a group whom I like to call Team ANZAC (Australia, New Zealand And Canada). Together we went to a place that truly was paradise. Nusa Lembongan. The full moon there was a sight in itself, let alone the reefs, beaches, locals farming seaweed, etc.The main industry is seaweed farming on Lembongan Island. Tourism comes a close second but you'd never know it. About 20-30 white faces get dropped onto the island every day, while at the same time approximately the same amount leave.
When the tide goes out, entire villages (any age, any gender, any ability or health condition) heads out to theses posts that can be seen from the beach and cuts away all the seaweed that's grown that day. They fill up their boats and come to shore. From the boats they fill up large buckets and carry them to the fields where they sit for days to dry. Once it's completely dried a farmer sells his seaweed for 1USD per pound. Generally to Jakarta or direct to Japan. The seaweed is used for cosmetics. The farmers and their entire families make from 2 USD to 5 USD per day. And this is where they all live.
Nusa Lembongan was the highlight of my travels this June. Thanks to Cat, we all go to see do and try things no tourist does. Part of what made even more exciting was the ferry ride to get to there. This was the ultimate ghetto ferry, with people puking off the side of the top and it landing on the people below. And then throwing themselves onto the beach when the waves were 5 feet high since that was the only way off. Lastly, in the midst of it all I was running one night and came across my first surf competition. Here (in the air above the wave) is the champ.
