I am experiencing déjà vu. My suitcase lies open and everything that should be in it is sprawled on table, couch and floor. Rolled-up clothes, bottles of moisturizers, books I can’t bear to part with. This was the same scene eleven months ago in Chicago when I was making preparations to go to China. Now I’m onto the next destination.
On July 1 I leave for Taipei to spend the summer in a Buddhist temple. I would like to say that I’m going there to meditate and do some soul searching. Actually, the reason is more practical. My aunt is a nun there and I need a place to stay this summer before I start school in the fall. In return for a room and meals, I will do whatever needs to be done in a Buddhist temple, like the cooking of vegetarian dishes or perhaps the scrubbing of the meditation room floors.
The jobs won’t be glamorous, but I hope along the way a little soul-searching will in fact come my way. All my life I have been too hurried to arrive at the next place; I was never one to live in the moment. In high school I couldn’t wait to leave home and become a bona fide adult. I charged through college in a little over three years and a few months later landed my first job. But here I ran into the problem: I was unhappy. I should have “made it.” I had graduated and found a job. Wasn’t that all there was to it?
In the years since graduation, I have realized no one is meant to have a lifetime figured out at 22. I look back now at that fresh-faced graduate with a mixture of envy and pity. A part of me wants to return to that time, when I felt like I could conquer the world. At the same time, I was foolish and made the mistakes of an amateur -- in work, in friends, in love. I cringe when I think of that young woman, too eager to please and agree and let herself be taken in. I cringe, too, because though much has changed, there is still that part of me that wants to loved by everyone.
So the thought of spending six weeks in a temple in a reclusive town is, to be honest, terrifying. I will have people around me – monks, nuns, other volunteers -- but mostly I will only have myself, my thoughts and my neuroses for company. I will be forced to confront my weaknesses.
I don’t know where this experience will take me. To a more spiritual place? To insanity? Wherever it is, I will be open to trying something new. If China has taught me anything, it is that I will be able to handle it.
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Hey Lady,
ReplyDeleteGlad to hear that you will be embarking on a new journey, but don't be scared you'll be doing what you should've done a long time ago. From what you've written I've seen some of the things you've described about yourself and that your willingness to do what others want although you really didn't want to. Sometimes to change things about us and be happy with ourselves we sometimes have to walk alone. In our society, especially in the states, we rely on so many outside sources for happiness that we're addicted to it. No one is perfect, but many people never realize real happiness with themselves. So you do the Kwai Chang Kane thing in the show Kung Fu and just walk the earth for a while. So that will be you sojurn with your aunt. So if it means anything I'm proud of you. You could've just stayed the course here, but you hit the breaks and tried a detour to check out some different scenery. I'm sure that there was a mixture of good and bad, but if it was all bad you'd be back here in the states wouldn't you? :) Take care and "wax on wax off" with authority. You are representing the Chi you know.
Peace.
D
you are such a beautiful writer jolie. i miss you so much, and reading your blog is such a comfort to me.
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