Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growing up. Show all posts

Sea Change: on leaving East Timor, growing up, and welcoming the new year



Dearest readers, 2012 is drawing to a close. The world didn't end and the solstice has passed, so in solar terms, a new year has already begun. Many have been saying that 2012 marks the end of an era of humanity, and the dawn of a new one. For me, 2013 is certainly going to bring about some major changes.

On December 31st, I am leaving East Timor, my adoptive home for most of the past 8 1/2 years. It's hard for me to begin to write about the significance of this to me. I came to this half island nation when I was just 23 and I am leaving now, 31 years old. How to sum up the changes that take place during a quarter life? In this place I found friendships that transcend all boundaries and will last a lifetime, loved and lost a soulmate, and through this loss learned the meaning of fleeting pure happiness. I have climbed mountains in the sunrise, heard the Old Magic humming, swum with whales and dolphins, dived with a dugong, four-wheel-driven up a rocky escarpment with a flat tire, camped on beaches under the stars, slipped into a career and become a yoga teacher.

I have held babies just born and witnessed the death of a child; I have sat on the floor listening to gunfire while a teenager sobbed with terror, spilling stories of past horrors that he witnessed as a boy. I have been displaced from my home and returned to find it looted, but while others ended up in a tented camp, I still had a roof over my head. I have learned time and time again what it is to be privileged: a well-fed, well-educated testament to the top tier of the geographic and social birth lottery into which probably everyone reading this blog is also born, free to choose my own destiny, to make my own choices, to have any job I choose, to marry and have children if I choose, and only if I choose. I have been constantly humbled by the everyday hardships of the other 80% of the world's population, by the barefooted men who walk miles over the mountains, by the women who bear their babies year in and year out, by the children whose lives are more work than play and who go to bed hungry every night of their lives.  I have seen the most beautiful sunrises and sunsets of my life, felt peace in the midst of chaos, found love amidst the woodsmoke and the flowers.

In essence, I grew up, here in the hot, humid air. Like a migratory bird, I landed in this place to shed the awkward feathers of a fledgling and grow a pair of wings. And now it is time to fly - away from this land I have lived in but that could never be my home, leaving behind great chunks of myself that have bled into the earth, the sea, the sand and the sky. A part of me forever to remain here; a part of here forever to remain with me.

There are no words for these sea-changes, these great transformations. Most of us mark them with life's big events; my tribe, the global nomads, we mark them with entry visas and exit stamps.

So where to next, dear readers? Well, for a little while, I will be returning to Canada, the country of my birth. Living a mere 600 kilometres (400 miles) from my birthplace - the closest I have lived since I was 8 years old! For the next few months you will find me nestled in the mountains in Whistler, British Colombia, soaking up the cold, the snow, and the crisp clean air. From the tropics to a Canadian winter, from the sea to the mountains, from one of the poorest countries to one of the richest, it is harder to imagine a bigger contrast, and I am reminded that in my nature I gravitate towards extremes.

Everything changes and yet nothing changes, dear readers, and I will still be blogging here, about yoga (a lot) and life (a little bit), and probably about skiing, and snow, and the dislocation that only a returning expat knows. About a homecoming to a place that is no longer home, about an affluent society unseeing of its own good fortune. I am trying to go without expectations, but of course that is impossible, so I hope to study and teach yoga, to reignite my practice in the chilly air of winter, to reconnect with old friends and the land of my birth, and to keep blogging about all of this, the yoga of life.

As always, if you're reading this, I am both humbled and honoured that you have taken the time to do so. Happy new year, readers - what changes, big or small, will 2013 bring for you?


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Shit hits the fan, Yoga is for Peter Pans

"Things fall apart,
Shit hits the fan,
Yoga is for Peter Pans,
But what one gives up,
Eventually comes around."

Totally useless haiku by Nobel Ang
1:00 p.m. CDT
Monday May 7th 2012

Gosh... at work the last few days, shit has been hitting the fan so hard that I can barely see amidst all this slimy, gooey stickiness. I'm not going to go into the details here, but try to picture a shitload of excrement spewing from the A-hole of the universe, hitting a rapidly moving wind turbine, sending said excrement ricocheting in all possible directions in my corner of the universe. Get the picture?

Of course, if one wants to be yogic or Buddhist (or whatever) about it, one would say that there are times when there is so much shit pent up in a particular corner of the universe that if it doesn't come out, it will only fester and become toxic and really, really kill you later on. This is quite definitely one of those times. But while it's all very nice to be yogic or Buddhist (or whatever) about it, it still doesn't change the stinky, slimy ugliness of the shit in the all-too-present immediacy of its visceral hitting-the-fan glory. Ha! Talk about living in the moment...

This is definitely not the best of blogging times here at Yoga in the Dragon's Den, if you haven't already noticed, what with the low volume of posts being generated lately, and with the rather shitty nature of the few that do come out (pun totally intended). But perhaps there are still a couple of yogic insights that may yet be gleaned from such lean times. Yesterday, I was having a rather candid conversation with my close friend L. L and I have known each other for years, so much so that we are often quite comfortable saying things to each other in a brutally honest, pull-no-punches kind of way. In a way, I do appreciate this: L often serves as my reality check. Anyway, here's how yesterday's conversation went, roughly:

L: Sorry to hear about the hard times you are going through at work. Mind if I say something not so nice?

Nobel: Sure.

L: I know that this yoga thing is the love of your life and all that. And that's great. But you do spend a lot of time practicing yoga (not to mention blogging about it). And you also take time off to go to those workshops with Kino, etc. And your employers know about your yoga workshop trips. Sure, you can say that what you do in your own time is your own business, and none of your employer's... but I can't help thinking that your employers are thinking that you are less serious about your work or less committed to it because of all this time that you are spending pursuing your hobby. And now I hear you are going to India for a month during the summer. Don't you think that maybe if you don't spend so much time and energy pursuing your yoga dreams, you might well be further along in your career now?

Nobel:...

L: I mean, do you think all this is working out to your favor?

Nobel: Yeah... why not?

L: Don't you think you need to grow up? Maybe you need to get real, and get your priorities straight. After all, you are just barely starting out in your career...

I honestly don't really remember exactly how the conversation proceeded after this point; I mean, it was civil and all, but I kind of blanked out around the time I heard the words "grow up." But maybe this is just as well: I don't think I need to bore you with the nitty-gritty details of the rest of the conversation...

Wow. Grow up, eh? Right now, I feel kind of like the Peter Pan of Ashtanga... or maybe Ashtanga yoga is really yoga for Peter Pans, anyway: I mean, think about all these senior teachers that look like they are in their thirties even though they are actually in their fifties... get the picture?

Man, doesn't this guy need to grow up...
[Image taken from here]

I could really launch into a super-long existential-angst filled rant about whether I need to grow up. But I have a long day ahead, and who needs to read an existential rant at the beginning of spring, anyway? So I'll spare us all this agony. In any case, did Patanjali ever say anything in the Yoga Sutra about growing up? Anybody know anything here?

But very often, in these lean times, hope and inspiration comes from the most unlikely of places. I'm starting to feel that perhaps what I need to do right now is to give up. Yes, give up. As in, give up thinking and angsting about whether to grow up, or whether to this, that, or whatever, and just try my best to see amidst all this shit and move forward somehow, even if just a small step forward. In particular, I find the following lines from James's recent post to be very inspiring and uplifting. Thanks, James! So perhaps, on this note, I'll leave you with these lines:

"I gave up.

I gave up trying to impress people so they would put me on TV.

I gave up trying to get people to think I was important enough so they would publish my books.

I gave up trying to start the perfect new business.

I gave up trying to be the best father in the world.

I gave up trying to be something I wasn’t to my friends and family.

I gave up everything. I was going to die.

And I looked around and saw that many people wanted to give up but I suspected were afraid to. Maybe, like me, they were afraid they would be less happy, that less people would like them, that they would be invited to have less opportunities, that they would make less money. That fear, by itself, was actually doing the opposite – it was keeping the boundaries of their existence tightly wrapped around their egos."



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