We met at the temple. Back when my head was shaved and I looked like a 12 year old boy. I would later call this stage of my life “the ugly phase”. Ten pounds heavier on my petite frame made me chubby and frumpy. In the confines of a monastery, I wasn’t trying to impress anyone, least of all myself.
“Joemar is here,” Dave told me, during one of our breaks. We were performing a graduation ceremony to showcase the arts, dance and Mandarin language we had learned in our four month monastery retreat. I had invited him through Facebook, where we initially met through Dave who told me about a crazy guy who was going to walk the whole island of Palawan. Something in me sparked an interest. Maybe it was intuition, although I was scared out of my mind to think I would actually do such a thing. But I added him, and we talked. And he came to see me. My heart smiled.
After the program, I came up to him and gave him a huge hug. I might be romanticizing in retrospect, but it seemed as if I had known him for years. Like those best friendships where no matter how long its been since you’ve seen eachother, you can always catch back up as if time hadn’t passed.
It’s easy being a loner. I’ve been a loner for years. I’ve felt alone, abandoned in relationships that didn’t work. I’ve lived my whole life solitary, in many ways. As an only child, as a panic stricken teen with social anxiety, and as an adult with a quiet disposition. So when I meet people that make me bubble with life and talk like there’s no tomorrow, I know its something special.
Our walk was magical. The Universe conspired to help us. After sharing a water bottle getting dirty with use and refilled by the native wells along the way, I declared that I wanted my own water bottle with ice cold water, while Joemar was craving beeko–a Philippine rice delicacy–the whole day. That very night, after finding a place to rest, Joemar offered his healing massage to a local he had befriended, who spontaneously gifted us with beeko and a 1.5 liter of ice cold bottled water. I was amazed by the synchronicity and humbled by the simple gratitude that comes when walking. Never knowing where we’ll rest from night to night makes a wooden floor and a warm family willing to offer their hospitality and food a welcome treat.
The first night under the stars, with a thin canopy of trees above us in the jungle road to San Vicente, we saw glowing leaves and foliage. It was just like Avatar. Drops of rain woke our slumber, and Joemar’s quick thinking survival skills had us relocate to a nearby area where my yoga mat and his malong blanket hung over two branches for shelter. It was pouring rain and the ground glowed florescent. We used eachother’s bodies for warmth and huddled together under the yoga mat. It was the beginning of our seduction. The jungle blanketed us with glow-in-the-dark leaves and seduced us into sacred sexual communion.
Eat, Pray, Love has been a big motivator in my journey. I read it prior to taking my travel leap and making the ultimate decision to free myself from stuff and become a nomad. Intuition knew I would do it, but it took awhile before my brain–the logical me–decided I was ready. As my journey wove itself inside temples, I witnessed my own postmodern awe at the resemblances of my life to Elizabeth Gilbert’s story. I knew I was having an Eat, Pray, Love adventure… I just hadn’t gotten to the love part, yet!
Love came sooner than I expected it. I wanted to love in whatever capacity I had. If that meant jungle and tropical beach flings, I was ready to accept it. After my five year failed relationship, I knew I needed time and space for myself–alone. I mentally gave myself two years to be by myself, learning, growing and being me after gathering the pieces from a quarter-life identity crisis. The jungle seduction was exactly two years to date from my life as a single woman. My break-up anniversary from 2008 which will now become my anniversary with Joemar from 2010. I manifested this.
Browsing through my own archives, I stumbled across a prophetic entry that talked about my capacity for love. I wanted to love in 2010, but I didn’t know how far I could take it. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
I’m not sure what [love] looks like, how far my boundaries can go. Is it merely friendship? Friends with benefits? I don’t know. Is it blow jobs and practicing deep throat and strap-ons? Is it wrestling and choke holds and martial art moves? 2am sex after an amazing day learning how to swim, hiking to hot springs, and sharing a banana leaf umbrella under tropical storms?
Later during our walk, we bushwhacked off the highway and sat under a banana tree to shelter ourselves from a tropical rainstorm, sharing one banana leaf like an umbrella.
Sitting on the beach one day and meditating towards the ocean horizon, I shared this information with Joemar and he said he had written something similar. He knew that he would walk with a girl and he had dreamed that things would develop and wanted to share a banana leaf with her under a rainstorm… Somehow, we both thought that banana leaf umbrellas sounded so romantic that we wrote about it before meeting. We manifested this. We manifested eachother.
It’s easy being solitary. It’s my disposition. It’s hard integrating myself and merging my life with another. Harder even still not to become the clingy girlfriend in a codependent relationship like so many times before. Relationships are challenging and I wasn’t sure if I was ready. It wasn’t easy to trust him because I was so weary of his motives as a “psychic”. He told me he had a vision that we would walk together. That he’d meet a girl at a temple. He told me I was part of “the Script”. I called him bull shit because I don’t believe in things like fate and destiny, but individual choice and free will. Maybe he was just pulling my leg and telling me things that sounded nice to impress me. I don’t know. I played devil’s advocate. It wasn’t love at first sight.
The spiritual and mystical circles are new to me, and my own spiritual growth has been accelerated to the point of being mind blowing growing pains. But in the end (the beginning), I knew I had to take the leap of faith and Trust. Trust him and his sincerity and trust that I was ready to be vulnerable again.
The people you meet in your life have something to teach you and in turn, you have something to learn. I knew that Joemar would have a lot to teach me, and intuition told me I should be with him but it took awhile before logic told me I was ready. In matters of love, logic can’t be trusted, because the language of love speaks from the heart. The language of love is the source of life itself, and finding love… operating on love will bring us closer to happiness and our greater selves. Trust your intuition and follow your heart and life will have more meaning. It brought me to Asia, it brought me to Palawan, it brought me to Joemar, and it’s bringing me closer to my ideal life each day.
Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head. – The Bible
I never thought I would ever quote the bible. But that’s where my journey has taken me. I’m not the same person I was before I left. Left where? Left for the walk? Left for Asia? Left a codependent relationship? Go backwards. Backwards. Back. Back to basics.
When I made the decision to walk, I wanted to apply the lessons I learned from the monastery retreat into my journey. Things like impermanence. Mindfulness. Walking meditation. Karma. Letting go. This is what I called my Road to Zen.
Palawan – The Last Frontier
Walking Palawan is in and of itself one of the best places to go “back to basics”. With the slogan “the last frontier”, Palawan is known for being the most natural, well-preserved island of the Philippines. Locals live simple lives and are content without electricity. The island also has a low crime rate and is the only island in the Philippines that has not experienced major natural disasters. One of my local friends even believes that it will be the “last frontier” when 2012 comes and Palawan will be the spot for both locals and foreigners to gather and go “back to basics” while a spiritual shift in consciousness happens.
The Last Frontier is not immune to commercialism and colonialism, however. Miners in the south have disenfranchised local tribes, forcing them to lose their means of work and relocate to the mountains. Although the island does not have a McDonalds or Starbucks, that will soon change because they are currently building a McDonalds as well as their first major mall. Palawan’s capital city, Puerto Princesa, “the city in a forest”, is misleading because it’s surrounded by forest, but not really in a forest. Typical city life with more buildings than trees is what you’ll see and what the current trend looks like it is becoming. I walked the island of Palawan at the right time, before it’s growth in tourism has spoiled the local landscape.
A private beach in Palawan
Back to Basics
There are a lot of things I did along the walk that got me back to basics. Everything from showering in the nude in the great outdoors (fortunately, or unfortunately, I don’t have a picture of that!), to wiping my ass with my own hand. Even the simple act of living out of my backpack, without even a tent and no certainty as to where to rest my head for the night was living back to basics. Using out houses with no flushing seats or toilet covers and only soap and water was back to basics.
Excerpt from 9/28/10 journal entry Emotionally, it is difficult to take in the day-to-day challenges and the uncertainty of not knowing where we’ll have a place to stay. So far, we’ve been fortunate to meet nice families but you never know with the unpredictability. Each ditch or spot of grass looks like an appealing place to rest my head. If we could only stop to rest… Bust still we walk on.
You start to feel crazy. I mean mentally insane. You wonder why you’re doing what you’re doing. For “spiritual purposes”. Testing your faith on the road, which is so physically, emotionally, and yes, spiritually draining. The road tests your patience, your intentions, and your good (or bad) karma. But you start to wonder if there’s really a point to all this or you’re just a crazy nomad on a Jesus trip.
[...] Each day has a new lesson and each step makes me feel more connected to this Earth, and this place, than any metal vehicle entrapting my body could ever do… That’s why I walk.
The act of walking is back to basics. And I did 85% of it the local way, in flip-flops. No fancy shoes or hiking boots. Just slippers.
Pain is only weakness leaving the body.
In true minimalist fashion, I lived like the locals. Hand washing clothes and bathing in the river. Embracing simplicity and the hardships of the simple life.
The year is almost drawing to a close and it’s hard to believe that it’s been nearly one year since I flew to Asia. Exactly a year ago today I got fired from a mind numbing desk job that left me feeling meaningless, uninspired and full of a good dose of Existential Angst. When they told me I got the boot I smiled and started laughing, resisting the urge to give them the middle finger. I was planning to quit in December anyway, to have just one or two more paychecks before I left for my booked flights. I guess they got to me first, but I packed my dwindling empty room where I sold all my furniture and took the 6 hour road trip through the mountains and back to my parents house. Back to my childhood room still in tact.
Weeks later, my car broke down and I was grateful that it had enough juice to bring me back home without any trouble. It’s almost serendipitous that way. As if I have my own spirit guides watching over me. Or maybe I’m just romantic and like to think with my head in the clouds. That there could be such a thing as invisible benevolent forces making sure I’m safe. Who knows. I don’t know what I believe but it sure seems nice.
This year, thus far, has been no short of amazing. I’ve cuddled with gay boys, taught Indian slum kids English, joined a four month Buddhist monastery retreat for free, temple hopped in Taiwan for free, connected with amazing people, and walked 400+ miles of Palawan island in the Philippines.
I didn’t win the Your Big Year fundraising contest which means I didn’t get to go to UK for Global Entrepreneurship Week and compete for a round the world trip, but who needs it? Something better came my way in the form of community and I now find myself staying at a raw foods vegan retreat center in Palawan with interests in holistic health and wellness, meditation, yoga and eco-consciousness. I’m staying here for free and working on various freelance projects in the hopes to start my burgeoning freelance graphic/web design career anew. I’m loving the niche I’m in and am involved in a transition town movement, which aims to transition towns into going green in response to peak oil and global warming. I’m learning all about intentional community, ecovillages, cod “mud-sculpting” houses, and permaculture.
I’ve always had a heart for Mother Nature and eco-consciousness but this is the first time I’ve actually lived in the heart of a green lifestyle. I’m living with likeminded people. People much more “into it” than me, and for much longer. I’m taking baths with buckets and pumping water out of wells. I’m handwashing clothes with green soap and bathing with green products. I’m even wiping my ass with my hands since toilet paper isn’t allowed for “environmental reasons”. And the weird thing is, I don’t mind. I’ve toughened up. I’m not just a sissy foreigner anymore. I get “local price” on the tricycles because I speak the language enough to communicate on a basic level. I’m a part of this country, and this culture. And this country and culture are a part of me.
I may not have won Your Big Year, but I have my own big year right here. Right now. And as much as I’ve enjoyed traveling through my country and slowly experiencing what it has to offer, I feel like it’s time to settle down. Even for just a bit. And start focusing on work again. Building my career. Networking in this beautiful, green city, and starting to draw some money in again. Replenish my funds, then travel some more.
For 27 days, with some days of rest throughout the journey, I walked and walked a total of 400+ miles from the southernmost tip of Palawan island, Philippines to El Nido, a popular tourist destination. I did this with my local native friend whom I thought of as my spiritual guide. Many insights captured me along the way, and I am left feeling overwhelmed and unable to write the true essence of the journey on blog form. I have enough thoughts and materials to write a book… Maybe I will someday. For now, I will attempt to assimilate all of my near-daily journal entries and share what I feel is best. But what this is are journal entries. They’re raw. They’re ugly. They’re beautiful. Simple. After over a month hiatus from the internet, I have forgotten how to blog. I’m sure I’ll get back into it sooner or later but please bear with me.
September 25, 2010
Walked 30 minutes to get to a beach. Southern most tip of Palawan. The ride down was bumpy as hell. Half paved roads poorly built and under construction. Lots of gravel. Lots of roads with so many pot holes I couldn’t even tell it wasn’t gravel. The driver drove through it in such a fashion that he would surely fail a driver safety test. Speeding through gravel. We hit a flat tire which wasn’t surprising. It only set as back 10 minutes at the most.
September 26, 2010 First day of walk. Up at 4am and walking by 5am. I thought I would get to watch the sunrise over the beach and then take a nice leisurely bath in the ocean as I awkwardly attempt to switch on my bikini and then change my clothes. I am wearing my clothes from yesterday and my pants are soiled and have a slight smell of urine. Being a hygienic hobo is hard… Especially without toilet paper. I try to “rough it” with my hands and then use sanitizer but it still soils my panties which in turn soil my pants.
Next time, I should wear a napkin to act as my toilet paper.. or at least a shield from my underwear and pants. Need to get this more together. I now have a new respect for the homeless which society so looks down upon like mere scum. It’s not that they’re dirty, even though they probably are. But you try living without your basic needs and see how long you can keep clean. There is this sort of breaking point where it gets harder and harder to keep up and ultimately you let go. You cease to care that you stink or you’re dirty and let society think of you like scum. These people typically don’t have a choice. But they do the best they can. They are the true minimalists of the modern world, even though minimalism has become a sort of yuppie trend.
It’s hard not to feel like a hobo huppie (hippie/yuppie) on my walk. I’m lugging my Adidas backpack (borrowed), Nike running shoes, Nikon D40 SLR camera around my neck, Ray Ban sunglasses on my face, and a ukay-ukay (thriftstore) sweater tied around my neck like those stereotypical, white yuppies wear, particularly the ones playing golf. Every scratch upon my skin brings dirt and grime under my fingernails and the heat of the sun is turning my skin a darker brown. I can’t tell if it’s dirt or a tan or both.
May 29th marked the two month halfway point of my stay at the Zen monastery. It’s safe to say that I’m past the disillusionment stage, you know, if I were in a relationship. But why can’t the “5 stages of committed relationships” apply to experiences, instead of people, as well? Two months and I can already sense the impending break-up.
At first, everything was new and exciting! Look at how we get to eat yummy vegetarian meals with chopsticks everyday in silence! How about this cool chanting in Chinese thing for half an hour every morning?? You mean mopping the floor is meditation!? I finally understand why cleanliness is next to Godliness! My boobs are really sweating out toxins while I’m meditating, holy shit! What the heck are they trying to tell me in class today? Wow, I have zero concentration skills, let me doodle on my notebook and write in my journal instead.
That kind of thing.
Now it’s more like, what’s the point of all this!?
What’s the point of any of this? This whole life thing. I didn’t actually think I was going to find answers like the Meaning of Life here, did I?
When evaluating and making decisions in my life, I try to answer the question: does this add value to my life? Of course, I answered “yes” when I decided to sign myself up for this but now, I’m not so sure. While I have no doubt this experience will help me in the hectic day-to-day of society, calm me while I try to stay positive, and even help me professionally, I no longer see value in the constant rinse, repeat lifestyle. A third of the people have already quit early, and I have to admit, I’m wondering about the same. In reality, I know I’ll stick it out because I’m not one for quitting when I’ve made a commitment towards something (a quick dodge in my mind makes me think otherwise, but in this situation, lets just pretend it’s a true blanket statement OK?), but my mind has grown increasingly less present now that it’s halfway through the program. That sense of wonder and bliss and true presence is starting to escape me. I’m worrying about what’s next and trying to secure my next adventure. Once again, I’m living in the future.
Anxieties build up again about my “career”. While it’s obvious I’m on a career break/sabbatical and I should learn to own it and enjoy it, I’m still worrying about how to get a job, or design my own job entrepreneur style. I start to think if this whole monastery stint was truly a way to experience something worthwhile, or just an excuse to put off the “real world”. Shudder.
The real world. As if this life now isn’t reality?
In Real Life
“This isn’t me in real life,” one girl kept pointing out during our stay. It struck me as a funny thing to say since our life, now, is in the monastery. How real can you get? I get what she was trying to say, though. In “real life” she’s louder, more flamboyant. Wearing uniforms that remind me of really crappy made in China workout pants and polos doesn’t exactly give much room for self expression. Her life back in Manila is so vastly different from our current experience that she equates a sort of Zen detachment towards it, boldly claiming it’s “not me”. It got me thinking. Who am I in real life anyway? I’m constantly adjusting myself to new situations and surroundings that I no longer have a stable life to base my “reality” on. The only real life I’ve got is here in the present. And the real world? It’s just an imaginary concept existing in our minds to keep the status-quo going. I don’t like the “real world” and I suspect I won’t enter it again.
In real life, I am discovering I thrive in situations I never thought I could, in the unknown. I’m realizing I am an adventurer that hates complacency, and in turn, status-quo. I’m learning how to accept that and live life more freely, without borders and on the edges. The hardest part of it all is learning how to take the responsibility of leading my own life, in my own hands, and trying to figure out my own path to carve. The meaning of life IS what you make out of it. It’s that simple, but infinitely and in turn, that much harder.
When most people think of meditation, they think of sitting monks or yogi’s in half or full lotus pose.
When you sit, just sit.
Chan Buddhism?
Zen Buddhism is the Japanese version of Chinese Chan Buddhism. Buddhism started in India and then spread to parts of Asia including China and finally Japan. What the West has popularized as “Zen” has been in practice in China before Japan. The modern day Zen aesthetic and minimalistic Zen lifestyle is romanticized in Japanese culture. Chan and Zen are virtually the same thing, with slight (respective language) cultural differences but the same practice.
Zazen
Because I am more familiar with Zen Buddhism, as it’s called in Japan, the type of sitting meditation we practice is Zazen, or just sitting. This main practice of Zen is to study the self and most importantly, focus on the breath. Where do your thoughts go and how do you observe it? Count your breath and focus on true awareness. The back should be perfectly straight in posture, and your tongue should rest on the roof of your mouth, touching just behind the teeth. Practitioners are suggested to count each inhalation and exhalation of the breath from one to ten, starting over at one again and so on. This technique allows you to stay present. If any thought arises, simply observe the thought and let it go. Do not suppress the thought, for that is attachment to the thought. Think of yourself as an outside observer watching your mind wander. Do not try to control it, just see where it takes you and let it go, taking your focus back to your breath. The mind is a funny thing. It acts as if it has a mind of its own. Thoughts seem to wander as if uncontrollably.
Sometimes, meditation is physically and emotionally exhausting. My body feels like its just run a marathon! If I’m ever lost in the woods, all I’ll do is meditate and I’ll be able to keep myself warm. Beads of sweat drip down my chest, back and arms. We sit here for 30 minutes straight, trying not to move a muscle, and focusing on our breath. Tingling pain drives up my foot and into my legs halfway through the session. In full lotus pose, my foot falls asleep. The numbness starts to become euphoric.
Sometimes, my mind wanders to thoughts I thought I had buried or dealt with, but they have resurfaced. Memories I don’t want to relive. Nothing bad, but bittersweet nostalgia that I want to let go. It is like an emotional detoxing. Once my mind wanders to these emotionally draining memories, I am able to finally let them go and rid myself of the emotion. This letting go process is spiritually, emotionally and mentally draining. Sometimes, I want to cry. I don’t though.
All this detoxing is immeasurably better than how I used to deal with my emotions. The waves are only little ripples now. I observe my self and I’m gone. I exercise to feel better, to shake it off. No longer bothered by my past.
So, I don’t exactly run circles in open fields covered in daisies singing Kumbayah, nor do I hug trees, smoke pot, take hallucinogenic drugs and practice free love, but one thing is for sure: I am a hippy. I used to be uncomfortable with such a word. The image. The connotation. The pot. Modern day hippies have long hair, often in dreadlocks, listen to Reggae and are all about Peace and Love, right? I’m not really like that, except I do like Peace. And Love. Lately, I’ve been learning how to embrace my inner hippy child.
The Origin
I grew up in Oregon. The land of liberal progressives, where Portland has green friendly recycling receptacles throughout the city and US’s first Cannabis Cafe. Volkswagon buses aren’t uncommon sights; they are normal everyday fare that “keeps Portland weird” and add color and flavor to the state. Many residents are adventurers that prefer the “natural” or “rugged” look. We have naked hot springs and naked beaches, and a throbbing vegetarian/vegan community (complete with a Vegan strip club), excellent public transportation and a penchant for biking commutes. While not all of these traits are exclusive to hippies, and not all Oregonians are hippies, it’s certainly a good start to fester a hippy outlook.
I’m not sure whether living in Oregon most my life is the culprit of my life philosophies. Nature vs. nurture. Does my environment shape my personality or is my personality something I am born with; inherently linked to a hippy attitude? I am a dreamer, a non-conformist, an idealist, a romantic, a pacifist, and a giver. I’ve been told I was a quiet baby, and I’m a quiet adult. Being a hippy is more than the form and image of how a hippy should dress like, act like and like culturally.
Beyond Form
I don’t like labels but I always get stuck on them. I am not a hippy because I don’t dress like one! I am not a hippy because I’m drug free! But beyond the form lies something deeper. Anti-war (check), pacifism (check), peace and love (check and check)? That’s me. I’ve always been a bohemian, a beatnik, a hippy, and a drive that has taken the form of becoming a nomad. Call it what you may, it’s virtually the same thing. Unconventionalism, non-conformism, that’s me too. I love the introspection that nature brings, and embracing people, culture and communities. The thing is, being a “hippy” is just a name that grew from a social movement in the 60s for a particular ideal. Those ideals existed before the movement, and before the term. Cultures and movements form and we’ve got “hippies” or “gypsies” or “bohemians”, but at the heart of the form are unified ideals that speak to me.
When Henry David Thoreau wrote his famous book Walden, the ideal to get back to nature, simplicity, and journeying to spiritual self discovery became a guidebook for many. Ideals, at their core, are always going to be around before people lead movements and start calling themselves “hippies” or “beats” or what have you. I’m learning to embrace my ideals and the form that may come from them. Travel, for me and many other travelers, is a modern-day version of Thoreau’s journey. Travel can become a spiritual quest, or an exploration on personal values. A deeper, and broadening viewpoint of the world helps to understand ourselves and eachother.
Inner Hippy
My inner hippy child is free and present. I’m living in the moment, enjoying simple pleasures in life, and smiling. A lot. I’m running barefoot, eating vegetarian, and practicing yoga once a week. I’m completely lost, but I don’t worry about my future, and right now, I could care less about being found.
I may have found my next travel adventure! A 5 day retreat with a completely vegetarian, raw foods diet, art, yoga, martial arts, meditation, and interpretative “inner dance” in Palawan island, Philippines! While the experience is a bit “weird”, learning to embrace my inner hippy ideals helps me realize this is totally up my alley and something of benefit that I would enjoy wholeheartedly. Flying by the seat of my own pants has always been a natural approach for me, but living it in a different culture has been a delightful and grounding experience that makes me think maybe I’m a natural hippy after all.
We are dressed in light blue-gray monks robes, or hai qing [hai ching], for laypeople. The tuk-tuk-tuk of a wooden block being banged by a mallet tells us that its time to eat. Gathering in a line alongside the eating table, facing eachother by gender, we wait for the monk to join us in bow before we begin seating ourselves in complete silence in front of dishes that are already served. The monk leads a prayer in Chinese that we have all, by now, memorized. The translation was given to us the first week, but still, it is a bunch of gibberish in new sounds and syllables that sound soothingly melodic and foreign.
There’s a certain way to eat, and a certain way to hold our rice bowls and pick up our chopsticks. Rules and guidelines to follow. All twelve of us in complete silence. If we want more food, we push our plates forward and use signals with our chopsticks for the servers to come and bring us more. Our posture must be completely straight for better digestion. Shoulders relaxed. We must finish everything on our plate, and if the server dishes us more than we can eat, we have to take it away at the beginning of our meal, right after the prayer. This is the monastic way of eating.
When you wash the dishes, just wash the dishes.
When you eat, just eat.
Every moment is an opportunity for meditation. Meditation, simply put, is the ability to stay present in the things that you do; being mindful of your thoughts and the task at hand.
How does the food taste? Is the rice warm, sticky, and fresh? Or cold and a day old? If you eat too fast, you might not be able to stop and enjoy it before its gone! Enjoy each flavor, and the flavors that mesh together when you mix the food on your plate and into your mouth. Feel the textures and flavor in your tongue palate. Concentrate on just eating. This is what I’m learning at the monastery. When you’re busy with chatter, or multi-tasking in front of a computer, you don’t appreciate the simple pleasures of food. You eat more than you need, blindly taking more and more before you realize that you’re full. There are so many times that I crave food, like ice cream, that by the time I eat it it’s gone in less than a minute! I realize that the craving tastes better in my mind than the actual food.
Vegetarian Lifestyle
I’m eating vegetarian. While not all Buddhists practice a vegetarian lifestyle, it is encouraged for ethical reasons due to the philosophy of not hurting any sentient beings. A typical meal–breakfast, lunch, and dinner–is three types of vegetable dishes, a bowl of rice, and a bowl of soup. Often, noodles are served, and bread instead of soup for breakfast.
Sometimes, I really miss a good ‘ole American breakfast. Hashbrowns and omelets and waffles and pancakes. But, I don’t miss meat.
The Chinese have a unique way about nutrition. Everything is colors and taste; engaging our senses. Instead of the typical “food pyramid”, we have balanced meals based on five colors of food (white, black, yellow, red/orange, and green) and five tastes (sour, spicy, sweet, etc.). It’s weird, but it works.
We aren’t supposed to eat in between meals, but the gap between lunch at 11:30am and dinner at 6:00pm is tough. Sometimes, I eat snacks that we get to buy once a week, but I am trying to control my hunger and drinking water instead. I’m trying to get by as purely as I can in this program, getting the most out of my experience as closely as possible (still working on the shaved head thing). While several rules and guidelines are set in place, it’s our own personal choice to follow them. Like the craving for ice cream, but the control not to eat it, knowing that I’d rather eat healthier than feed my body the typical junk to satisfy my huge sweet tooth. When you eat, just eat. There’s no room for emotional eating at the monastery. It would be good for my body to abstain.
Snippets of my childhood come to me throughout the day as I am meditating. Long forgotten memories I didn’t even know I had. I wonder where they’re coming from. My earliest memories are age 4. I am at daycare during nap time. I don’t know why there is designated nap time. At four years old, I never took naps. Blankly staring at the ceiling in a dark room wondering when it would be over. We’d lay on plastic cots on the floor. My mind would race. I suppose this is a four year old version of meditation. When you can’t sleep during nap time…
Another daycare memory. I am on the playground high up on a platform, next to the slide and monkey bars. I stare down at the ground covered in sawdust. I jump, fearless of falling. It’s really high up for someone under three feet, but I land safely.
I don’t know why these seemingly mundane memories stand out to me now. Maybe it’s a return to innocence. Purging all of these unhappy adult experiences, by way of bad dreams, and remembering more innocent times. When nothing really mattered and life was simpler. Maybe that’s why I want simplicity and minimalism in my life. It’s a return to innocence. Getting back to my inner child.
Today is my birthday and I am 27. It seems like yesterday I was just turning 25 and just like that, I’m in my “late twenties”. A year ago, I was living in Oregon, still trying to get over the demise of a long term relationship that I let define me; and that still defined me during my recovery process, which took a good full year, more or less.
When you get out of a five year long relationship, it’s hard not to let your life be known as “before the relationship”, “during the relationship” and “after the relationship”. You still define your life by your relationship even after you are free of the shackles. This kind of timeline is why I have stopped talking about “the relationship” and why I hesitate to go into it here. At this point, my life is so immeasurably different that I can’t even relate to the person I was in my relationship; I have changed. That part of my life seems so surreal as to be unreal. I can’t believe I used to own a house and was on a set track of mediocrity. I knew I wasn’t reaching my full potential and I’m glad I am single. I’m happy. For the first time in my life, I am not pining for anyone, much less a relationship. And that’s why I know I’m finally ready to try again. Whenever that happens, I’m ready. I’m ready for the inevitable and eventual pain and suffering.
But mostly, I’m ready to return to Innocence.
Now, I am at a monastery retreat studying Zen and practicing meditation. Each week, we have “talent” exhibition classes and we take turns sharing skills. The above was an improv dance that me and another classmate performed last week.
