Isn't it ironic? So much of the conversation between fellow travellers here and even the things I choose to write about center on what appears to be the negative. Diarrhea, the lack of comfort in transportation, the feeling of being a zoo animal, and the overall backwardness and paradox which is India are the most popular gripes. Yet I have chosen to come back here for a third time. Why?
The best answer I can give is this: after India everywhere else is quite dull. This doesnt mean I dont have an appretciation for beauty. There is nothing more heart stirring for me than a sunset at the farm. And obviously there is still much of the world I have yet to see, but I am pretty confident this also goes for these places. Although after reading Barbara Kingsolver's amazing The Poisonwood Bible I know have an interest in the Congo.
To understand why? You must understand that travelling to India is not a vacation. If this were the plan I would be very dissolutioned and reasonably upset. And I've seen this in many westerners here. Of course there are a couple of places to go for a classic beach vacation here, Goa or the beaches of Kerela, but even these places bring the burdens which say, Cancun or Thailand, are a million miles removed from.
Call me a sadist. This may be true. I like to call it endurance. A meditation on tolerance and patience. The mental and physical stanima required for India ranks up there with my experiences with long distance running and biking. Riding out a bad acid trip. Constant self reassurance is the key to survival. The knowledge that "This will end". This is my mantra- "This will end. This will end. This will end." This same coping mechanism has brought me out of the dentist's chair and through numerous drillings as well as multiple stomach ailments here. I suppose this is a character trait that many cannot sympathize with. Like a pig, I guess I choose to lie in the shit sometimes. And I can understand why many of you would lable this as irrational. Am I glorifying the negative? Sure. But I like to take a more nhililist approach to it and say I am glorifying everything, or not. Good and bad, or the lack or its reality. Hmm.
We need to live in discomfort to know comfort. Be sad to be happy, or better- content. This sermon is not new. I need to physically remove myself to the bombardment of hypercomofort pitched to me back home. And I am not above it. I enjoy the comforts of home. But in this way I can appreciate and live a life more centered on gratittude when I do come home. To constantly compare here and home is impossible to get out of my head. Everything I see creates a value judgement. Everything. Every hour of the day. And it is usually a 50-50 throw up to who wins, India or home.
This brings up another imortant idea floating in my head. The idea of self identity. My removal from the US really concentrates my own sense of identity here in India. Right now that is aligned with the Chippewa Valley. The kicker to this all is upon my arrival home this concentration becomes so dilluted. Maybe this is why I travel. It is easier to be ambiguous or feel graceful without a true feeling of home in a foriegn land.
And to make a decicion to embark on this journey with a partner of the romantic variety in yet the early days, where foundation and keystone are still setting in their mortar. What will come of this non-vacation? In our grandest hopes skills of problem solving, patience, tolerance and trust. Gretchen and I can only rely on each other. There is no room for trust here outside of us. Of course those of you who Know Gretch will know she will not agree with this last statement. But with these conflicting ideas of ours comes the debates needed for a strengthening of listening skills. We have our spats. But we are also learning to come full circle when the blood boils and back to a certain degree of rationality to hear ech other out. Learning. Learning. Learning. The book is never written. And a lot of days the cramp in my hands is as painful as those dentists' drills.
The best answer I can give is this: after India everywhere else is quite dull. This doesnt mean I dont have an appretciation for beauty. There is nothing more heart stirring for me than a sunset at the farm. And obviously there is still much of the world I have yet to see, but I am pretty confident this also goes for these places. Although after reading Barbara Kingsolver's amazing The Poisonwood Bible I know have an interest in the Congo.
To understand why? You must understand that travelling to India is not a vacation. If this were the plan I would be very dissolutioned and reasonably upset. And I've seen this in many westerners here. Of course there are a couple of places to go for a classic beach vacation here, Goa or the beaches of Kerela, but even these places bring the burdens which say, Cancun or Thailand, are a million miles removed from.
Call me a sadist. This may be true. I like to call it endurance. A meditation on tolerance and patience. The mental and physical stanima required for India ranks up there with my experiences with long distance running and biking. Riding out a bad acid trip. Constant self reassurance is the key to survival. The knowledge that "This will end". This is my mantra- "This will end. This will end. This will end." This same coping mechanism has brought me out of the dentist's chair and through numerous drillings as well as multiple stomach ailments here. I suppose this is a character trait that many cannot sympathize with. Like a pig, I guess I choose to lie in the shit sometimes. And I can understand why many of you would lable this as irrational. Am I glorifying the negative? Sure. But I like to take a more nhililist approach to it and say I am glorifying everything, or not. Good and bad, or the lack or its reality. Hmm.
We need to live in discomfort to know comfort. Be sad to be happy, or better- content. This sermon is not new. I need to physically remove myself to the bombardment of hypercomofort pitched to me back home. And I am not above it. I enjoy the comforts of home. But in this way I can appreciate and live a life more centered on gratittude when I do come home. To constantly compare here and home is impossible to get out of my head. Everything I see creates a value judgement. Everything. Every hour of the day. And it is usually a 50-50 throw up to who wins, India or home.
This brings up another imortant idea floating in my head. The idea of self identity. My removal from the US really concentrates my own sense of identity here in India. Right now that is aligned with the Chippewa Valley. The kicker to this all is upon my arrival home this concentration becomes so dilluted. Maybe this is why I travel. It is easier to be ambiguous or feel graceful without a true feeling of home in a foriegn land.
And to make a decicion to embark on this journey with a partner of the romantic variety in yet the early days, where foundation and keystone are still setting in their mortar. What will come of this non-vacation? In our grandest hopes skills of problem solving, patience, tolerance and trust. Gretchen and I can only rely on each other. There is no room for trust here outside of us. Of course those of you who Know Gretch will know she will not agree with this last statement. But with these conflicting ideas of ours comes the debates needed for a strengthening of listening skills. We have our spats. But we are also learning to come full circle when the blood boils and back to a certain degree of rationality to hear ech other out. Learning. Learning. Learning. The book is never written. And a lot of days the cramp in my hands is as painful as those dentists' drills.
It is ironic. Like a weed and a vegetable, both with identical looking roots, entangled in a mass of root. Which is which?
ReplyDeleteChai chai chai. Chai chai chai.