In my new host-home, I have my own room. Previously I shared with a 23-year old host-sister. I feel kind of crappy about my Western space-hogging sensibilities, but there they are none the less. I really like having some space to call my own. So recently I’ve been enjoying such luxuries as putting my posters and photos up on the wall, joyfully lingering over the arrangement of my possessions, swinging my window opening in the morning (my old room didn’t have one), being naked when I want to be, reading my book undisturbed, lighting a candle, doing yoga, and listening to the music of my choice. In a time when I’m in need of some extra self-care, these small joys of self-possession are indeed a blessing.
During a recent yoga practice, I was listening to music on my laptop, and after the allotted 5 minutes of inactivity, the screensaver kicked in and began cycling at random through my photos. Every time my eyes came forward, I would catch a glimpse of a moment in my life that happened to get captured in the click of a camera.
Eventually, I stopped the yoga all together and went to squat (Asian style) in front of the shifting screen. As each picture came up, it seemed to trigger a bursting sunbeam in my head, illuminating some forgotten grassy hollow of my brain. And as each memory presented itself and I stumbled forward to meet it, its smell, the touch of it on my cheek, its feel in the pit of my stomach, and its fullness in my mouth broke open before me anew. Like one of those hinged plastic Easter eggs filled with the chocolate of my rich and joyful life so far.
Eventually, the computer completed its screen-saving mission, switched to the blank, black colour of sleep, and I returned to yoga. But those 10 transcendent minutes of photo montage have stayed with me and I keep returning to them in my mind and to the memories they recall.
I arrived in Viet Nam with the determined intention to be PRESENT in the PRESENT!, the idea being that the past, the future and all beings outside my immediate experience should not distract me from fully sensing each moment as it comes. Sounds good, right? However, in practice, the rewards of pursuing the present have proved frustratingly illusive to me.
I don’t really know what’s gone wrong with my intention, but seems it’s time for me to try something new. After beating the present to death and succeeding in the production of a muddy pulp, what a breath of fresh air to recall times when I wasn’t even trying, yet the sun made my hair glow, familiar arms fitted themselves comfortably around my waist and thankfulness poured from my heart and out my eyes.
Not so long ago, I’d say I had pretty much come to terms with being unhappy in Viet Nam... I’m here, this is a good experience, it’s worthwhile, but it is not and will not make me happy. At this moment in time, mostly thanks to the rousing effect of a couple recent crises, I’ve decided that, in fact, I’m not quite ready to settle for suffering.
With new inspiration and a new lack of clear intention, I’m feeling ok with the good sensations that come along with remembering the past. It feels good... in the present.
As I gazed into the pixilated past and lounged in memories of North American sunshine (SE Asian is more into hazy brightness), a more recent photo from Viet Nam came up... and somehow that one made me smile too. And I thought about how, in future when I’m somewhere else, I’ll see that picture and warmly recall the moment it features. So now I’m relishing thoughts of the future, and it feels good too… in the present.
It seems to me that enjoying the present has something to do with not getting stuck in it—just as you should not get stuck in pondering the past or the future—because the present was also the future and will also be the past... and the linear spectrum of past, present and future… it melts together into a sphere of being.
Below are some of those photos that flashed by. I know this blog is supposed to be about Viet Nam, but when the past, present and future are all running together, I guess it's all relevant...
In the world, there are open spaces for breathing. I'm especially partial to the ones in my hometown.
I love people who smile when you kiss them, especially Maria.
Fresh cookies and warm light are delicious.
Me Lien (old host-mom), me and the pomelo peal enjoy each others' company.
Snow falls from the sky and Sarah and Miriam are my friends.
The Millrace + Bethy + bicycles + a Goshen summer + yoga + blue sky = my bliss.
The week before leaving for Viet Nam, the love surrounding and pushing me off was basically overwhelming..."I can't stand feeling so full of happiness anymore, I just need to leave!"
I remember am capable of doing crazy things... like shaving all my hair off! It's fun. And then it grows back.
