Dear God

Dear God,

You know me better than I do. 

You know I want stability but crave adventure.

You know I want to be happily married but like my alone time.

You know Im not materialistic but I like pretty things.

You know I don't have an issue with the way you made me, but I have an issue with people who do.

You know I forgive easily and love quickly even though my heart has been broken so many times.

You know I want to do something that matters, but have no idea where to start.

You know I try to look after myself & my body but I fail, so miserably, so often.

You know I want to go back to India but I want to say here because I have friends & family here.

You know I need help but hate asking for it.

You know I struggle but don't want to and try to seem ok.

You know I scare easily but convince myself Im not scared.

You know that giving up is not an option, so I keep going.

You know that I sometimes do mediocre work because I don't have more to give.

You know I hide when Im in pain.  

The one thing

I rarely reach the point where I don’t know what to do next.  I always have a back up plan, another way to go.  I sometimes think I might as well write ‘Plan maker’ on my CV.  I do it for a living, I plan things and when it all goes wrong – as it normally does, I make other plans.  I come up with solutions.

Today, however, I don’t have a plan.  I’m stuck between a rock and a very hard uncomfortable place.  I sit behind my computer, put headphones on to try ward off any possible interaction. 

I want to move on from my current place of employment, but I cannot find anything else.  Not that I’m not trying… but that’s a whole other story. 

I am a bit of an adventurer and found the idea of working in another country incredibly appealing. New cities to discover, new people, beautiful architecture… It can only be great.

The answer I get from everybody is to teach English somewhere.  I looked it up, it’s possible to go pretty much anywhere: Thailand, Japan, Korea, Philippines, Taiwan, Singapore, Malaysia, Costa Rica, Brazil, Turkey, Czech republic, Greece, Italy, France, Kenya… Take a map, close your eyes and pinpoint. 

The problem: I stutter.  Not much and it’s never kept from doing or trying anything new.  Problem is now, I cannot teach if I stutter – and I cannot not tell people.  It’s dishonest.  But how do I tell any recruiter that yes, I think I’d be amazing, but I stutter where speaking is 80% of the job.

It’s never bothered me, it seemed at one point that it bothered others more than it bothered me.  I’ve stuttered for as long as I can remember and I find ways to work with it.  Been to speech therapy and no, it didn’t do much… Making peace with it - made a big difference.  Its part of me, like my freckles, it’s apparently here to stick around for some time so instead of getting an ulcer worrying about it, I might as well make peace with it. 

Why all of a sudden does my life depend on something I cannot do? Nor not as well as others.  Are all the things I can do not enough?  I’m human, nobody can do everything…

Fences

They say fences make good neighbours. 

It was part of a poem in the 10^th grade – not that I can remember much more, but I remember this.  Fences also have gates or entrances.  Perhaps it’s not about the fence but about the other side of it.

Do we ever really know what’s on the other side? The others side of a job interview? Of a plane ticket? Of a long overdue fight? Or that email that took you two days to write because you had to sleep on it? Of a date?

I’m not sure we do, and I’m not sure that if we did we’d know how to handle it. 

My first job interview went well.  I walked out feeling good about it.  I got a call exactly 3 hours later saying that I got the job, but little did I know that my superior was going to tell me I’ve got a demon because I stutter.  Not exactly what I had in mind for a good entry into the workforce.

A friend of mine had a hectic year last year, but in March last year she said that she wanted to go to Mexico.  Somewhere in December she climbed on plane, flew 20 hours to the other side of the earth, to Mexico.  She spend Christmas eve walking down streets as the locals were singing Christmas songs… She came back amazed by the little bit of earth she got to explored. 

Do we know what we’ll find on the other side when we step off the plane into a new country? Google, as much as I like it, cannot tell you everything. It can show you some insights into the life, the costs, the traditions, the transport system and the housing but it cannot prepare you for its hidden secrets.

It cannot tell you about the homeless guy, who during the summer months, sleep on a ledge on plastic, because then at least his blanket won’t get wet.  It cannot tell you about the guitar player in town, who owns nothing, who walked away from his family when he lost his job.  He eats one meal a day and plays guitar for small change.  It cannot tell you about the Mama who walks her 6 year old son to school every morning, quietly praying that he creates a better life for himself, while she cleans houses.  It cannot tell you the way the city smells after a thunder storm.

Perhaps it’s not about knowing what to expect.  Perhaps fences are stuff that conforms us, that keeps us safe, that we grow out of.  Stuff that are not meant to last forever.

The demon lady didn’t last.  The Mexican holiday came to an end.  But the sun rose again the next day.

Love

For most people their stories start with a song – a lyric that make them think of a particular event or story.  A friend of mine told me, that in every part of his life – he’s got music, most of it filled with Smashing Pumpkins.

For me, all my happy memories start with one song: Yori Yori by Bracket. 

It was in 2011 when I stepped off a plane at 03h30 in the morning – when the wave of heat hit me, I realized I didn’t really know what I was getting myself into.  I was in Tanzania, a place I later fell in love with.  The people, the history, the palm trees next to the highway...  I’d taken a leap of faith with the trip, it was my first trip and inspired by a friend of mine who told me about Zanzibar, one Saturday morning at work (who knew working over weekends could be this good to you?) She ended her story with: “Why not just go?”

It took me 9 months to save up and plan my trip. But any place new, at 03h30 in the morning, is kinda scary.

Days later, Id met a couple of young men, all of them fairly new in the country – they’d all moved from India to Tanzania for work.  For them, the other side of the world.  We went to the beach one night, all 6 of us squeezing into one taxi.  Yori Yori started playing. And continued. Turns out the taxi driver also really liked the song.

I remember I looked out the window as we were passing the ocean, thinking that I couldn’t be any happier.  This was my adventure: carefully planned, saved for over months and as I found out later, the traveling bug had bitten me. 

The party on the beach was great: had beer, watched a glorious African sunset, danced.  Laughed at the guys. 

I remember my first trip like it was yesterday, because to me it’s the place I fell in love with.  I fell in love with the laughter, the sincerity of its people, the way each day was grasped & filled with energy and dreams and life.  The spirit of people I think of as my own. 

I fell in love with Africa and will spend my days exploring every inch of it, because of how amazingly resilient the people are.