Paris – the Audio Diary

Part I of Lindsay in Paris:   

Part II, in which Lindsay cries upon seeing the Venus de Milo:   

Part III, in which Lindsay goes to Montmartre:   

Paris, the Finale:

Bonjour, Paris…

Hello, Paris.

I’ve been here for about 6 days. I have walked countless miles, up and down the Seine, into and out of the Latin Quarter, the Marais, Bastille, down Champs-Elysee, through a big cemetery. I’m utterly exhausted and ever-hungry for more more and more. I’m flexing my French muscles, which are surprisingly supple given my complete lack of practice after studying the language for 9 months in college.

I feel full, overflowing. The French excel in culture. I have lived more or less without culture for almost 2 years. As Julia said, Paris is THE perfect antidote to a culture-less existence. I spent about 6 hours wandering the enormous halls of the Louvre today – quite unexpectedly crying at the sight of the Venus de Milo.

I’m happy. Life is again good, right, feeling balanced.

Within the next couple of days I hope to post some audio diaries. Stay tuned…

Audio Diary

I haven’t felt like writing as much as talking, lately. In an effort to document somewhat my experience in South Korea, as my time here comes to an end, I spent a day making some recordings.

waking up and walking to work:

at school:

eveningtime:

the other day someone asked me what the rest of my life looked like…. (Sudeshna’s project)

As I’ve become more aware of the world of which I am a part, and the subtle and gross injustices surrounding me, I’ve been emotionally provoked, but never compelled to get involved. I expected, at some point, I’d feel so provoked that I’d just know this was my issue. This was the direction in which I had to move, the cause I should join, the war I should wage.

That hasn’t happened. I can see the future, though it doesn’t present itself to me in specifics or details… photographs or paintings. My big cause or issue may still reveal itself to me somewhere down the line – who knows – but for now, my life is simple. I ignore my own personal will to power and I focus on what’s in front of me. The world benefits from my connection to the planet, each person I meet, my own body and mind. It’s not for me to save the world, but for me to save myself.

Should everyone feel so inclined, and foster such connections, then the world saves itself.

And that… should be what the rest of my life looks like.

So Longs

I leave Korea in one week. If I let the thought hang out for too long… I begin to freak. So I tend to just push it aside. (It looks like that effect you see occasionally in film and television, with the blacking out of the scene from the side… like pulling a curtain across a stage… you know.) It’s hard to sit in my apartment – my worldly possessions, as well as those that aren’t mine and must be moved out, are beckoning me to deal with them. Breathe breathe breathe.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to leave Korea, to go to Paris and London and Brussels and home. But I’m not exactly bouncing off the walls. Perhaps the excitement of leaving so many places and so many self-inflicted upheavals has left me over it. I seek happiness and contentment over excitement. Am I happy to be moving along? Yes.

I went up to Asan this weekend to visit RC and Jackie, meet some new people, enjoy a bonfire that frightened ducks, and get marshmallows on my gloves. I did all of these things AND re-met someone I’d met briefly only once before.

Upon leaving, I left my wallet in Jackie’s place and watched the train I was supposed to be on whisk away without me. At this point (watching said train do said whisking without me on it), I wanted to cry. I felt utterly ridiculous – and, I might add, I’ve missed buses, in a similar fashion, before. Thankfully, an hour or so later, I could laugh about it…

I was pretty emotional for the day, though. I listened to Regina Spektor’s newest album (I now sum up my love for her with: “I’ve got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget/ I’ve got a perfect body, cause my eyelashes catch my sweat/ yes they do, they do-o-o-o-o…”). I listened to some Burial. Outkast snuck in there. Yann Tiersen.

Spending time with the Asan/ Cheonan folks brought back something… In the middle of my first meditation course, in Massachusetts, I was struck by how close I felt to the people I was meditating with. In fact, I’d never felt closer to anyone in my life. I set out to think my way to the bottom of this mystery – How could I be so close to people I’d never spoken to (these nifty courses are conducted in Noble Silence – no communication of any kind, except with course instructors and managers)? In my mind, “getting close” happened with talk. With sharing dreams, fears, ideas, interests. An information exchange, or… the interacting of personalities. I knew and liked someone based on what they told me.

What I learned during that fateful course was that this wasn’t entirely true. Sure, sometimes people tell us things that are intellectually appealing to us. But underneath and behind the sentiments there’s something bigger happening. I suppose this may be what people mean when they refer to the “sharing” of feelings. Literally… we’re sharing feelings. Over the course of that course, I shared myself with my fellow meditators without saying a word. In fact… I shared myself more COMPLETELY than I’d ever shared myself with anyone before. The final night, I stayed up all night with a roommate – we talked like we’d known each other all our lives. And in a very Buddhist or Eckhart Tolle kind of way… we had. The next day, we said our goodbyes and, for the most part, never spoke again (also very Buddhist or Tolle, I’d say).

Relating this to the Cheonan-Asan-wherever-else-they-came-from crew, I feel as though I talked less amongst a group of people than I have in a while. But I felt good, included, loved, comfortable (except for the popsicle feeling in my feet), and relaxed. It’s nice sometimes not having to talk.

Thanks for a great night (and reminder), friends. You’ll be missed (in a strictly Buddhist, Eckhart Tolle kind of way, of course).

What I Might/ Might Not Miss

Might
the kiddos
my “foreigners” (who should know who they are)
kim-chee
sam gyep sal (with sufficient amounts of soju)
dak galbi
soju-fueled skinny dipping in local universitys’ man-made ponds
bulgogi
the overall gentle and amiable Korean nature
the mountains and hiking
diving in the East Sea
the free time
bibimbap
Chana paneer, chai tea, aloo chatt (in particular)
my adult students

awkwardness

Might Not
HEL-LO!!!!!
dodging Koreans
the pervasive despair, hopelessness, purposelessness, helplessness
killer buses
the locals’ overall lack of deeper thought (I’m still amazed that this country is Buddhist.)
the lack of integrity
expat “culture”
the concrete jungle
the gawking
the free time
the whining

elevators

To be continued…

Anxious Insight

I get anxious. Frequently. I imagine, if I were the doctor-going type, I would officially have (possibly acute) anxiety. Hip hip hooray.

What anxiety feels like: Pain. Tension. For me, I feel these in various parts of my head and face, in my neck, in my shoulders, and sometimes down my left arm. There is pressure in my chest and my breathing becomes quick and shallow.

This pain and tension is accompanied by thoughts. It’s a panicked feeling, so the thoughts tend to go that-a-way: I worry about the future, immediate or distant. I worry about getting in trouble somehow, with someone. I worry about being wrong. I think about making myself right. I worry about losing my employment (whatever it happens to be at the time) and being destitute. As I think, the breath grows quicker and more shallow, my sense of panic increases.

Should I happen to be with people when this happens (and I often am – people tend to increase my anxiety level no matter what), it is very very difficult for me to look anyone in the eye for too long. My talk, should I be talking, is fast, often opinionated, negative or cynical, sharp, biting, witty. (Indeed I can be quite entertaining in this state.)

This is my life. My old roommate once told me that anxiety, once it becomes a part of your life, never goes away. I’ve never researched the topic and I don’t exactly care to, so I don’t know whether or not that’s true. Rather than looking on this as a condition, disease, or problem, however, I try to see it as a valuable tool for insight. As I work with it, explore it, live with it, I tend to learn lots about who I am as a person and who we are as people. In this way, then, I’m grateful for it.

Last night, I was with one of my college students, Youngsoon, and the tension and pain were upon me. I started rambling and averting her eyes, making as much contact as I could before turning away to look at the floor. I recognized what I was doing. And I began… to work with it. I slowed down my speech, working within the relative confines of my limited breath. I focused on her eyes for long periods of time, relaxing there, in a way, before turning away out of habit to seek some comfort. Within this exercise, I found some peace, some depth, and some moments of true emotional purity. Most importantly, I survived, as I always do… though the feeling of the moment may be that my life is in peril. I think I learn from that, always, perhaps in a tiny way.

Tiny… but never insignificant.

Taken Too Far

I just listened to a podcast in which a techie (I presume) waxed philosophical and giddy about what is happening in the world today, technologically.

I’m the first to admit that technology is affording us some goodness (if you can manage it well). This interviewee was talking about what is coming – that eventually we can be hooked up to our mobile devices in such a way that our vitals are being monitored by someone in Ghana, at a monitoring center, and if something seems awry (heartrate rises dramatically, for example), you may be contacted by your healthcare professional just to be sure everything is all right.

Listening to this, I felt the same way I felt when I watched “The Corporation.” In that particular documentary, a man with similar geeky and giddy energy talked excitedly about the entire world – every tree, body of water, grain of dirt – being owned by someone. Frankly, this line of thinking, whether from the techie or the over-enthusiastic businessman, makes me nauseous.

It is what it is, I suppose. People can cede their very health over to whomever they please. They will live long, unhealthy more-or-less fulfilling lives. Or they will live perfectly healthy, exercise-filled, lite-eating lives only to get hit by a taxi cab in South Korea one innane Friday night. BUT. This is just another example of “you don’t know you well enough to be trusted with the care of you, so you better let us do it.” This is dystopian science fiction silliness.

Ick.

I continue to tweak the filter…

Space Cadet Travels the US, Sits on her Ass for 10 Days, then Visits Disneyland

5 weeks from today, I’m on a plane for Paris. A friend of mine told me yesterday that whenever I bring that up, I don’t actually look excited. And she’s right – I’m not. Excitement is a passion which visits me still… but not so frequently. And I’m glad for that. Of course I’m talking about an event which will bring plenty of excitement with it… but honestly, it’s in the future. How can I get excited about something that’s not now?

I’ve been fantasizing a lot today, about what’s next. I’ve thought about a cross-country train trip. I’ve thought about a third (third!) Vipassana course. Visiting Disneyland. Yosemite (and the redwoods!). Seeing a shuttle launch (before they discontinue the shuttle program).

I’ve even gone so far as to consider getting a job at Space Camp for a time… if they’d have me. I seem to be returning to my roots. I love this wide-open universe.

Also, and by no means insignificantly, I like the recession.

That’s all for today.

Ego Code Red

I believe mine is an ego in crisis. I believe mine has possibly always been an ego in crisis. This could maybe be said of any and every sensitive person who has ever existed. Well… actually… this could maybe be said of anyone anywhere in the history of life.

But that doesn’t exactly lead me anywhere interesting, now does it?

So I’ll go back to me and my own ego crisis. Every slight or offense is like a confirmation of the tenuousness of my position – the ongoing maintenance of the big ME charade. It’s a reminder: “Crap… right… this isn’t real. I’m NOT who or what I insist on trying to believe I am, what I’m forever trying to convince others.” My ego vanishes and I am thrust suddenly back into the void, the place between acceptance of what is and the fear of uncertainty and nothing.  A sort of limbo between confidence in the ultimate truth and confidence in what I see and *think* is reality. My reaction may be defensive and angry, essentially saying “No, goddamnit, this IS me. This is real. And right. And good. And something to believe in.” I resent being challenged on it because, damnit, for five minutes, I was so comfortable in it. Grrrrrr to you for reminding me.

I think on my fragile ego and consider that what might serve me best, overall, would be for someone to reduce ME to rubble. For somebody to confront said flimsy ego, tear it totally down, leave it broken and sobbing on the filthy ground. I have, in the past, fantasized about military training… because, in a way, I think this is what they do to new recruits. (Though I think they then just remake the ego into what will serve them best in their militaristic purposes.)

In a way, I do believe Korea has done this for me. Not entirely. The ego holds on desperately, by the very tips of its fingers. It’s begging for its life, refusing to surrender. I have to give it credit, actually. It’s nice to know that within me exists such strength and such a refusal to capitulate. For whatever reason (hooray, cultural differences!), Koreans see nothing wrong with telling a person they’re fat or that their hair looks bad. They make fun of everything, from your language slip-ups to your unusual eating preferences. Hell, Koreans don’t even seem to have preferences. Weirdos.

Anyway, you can imagine this sort of treatment working some definite wonders on a person’s ego. It can sink you or make you stronger. I think I’ve been sunk and made stronger.

Today I’ve been reading excerpts from “The Witness,” in the form of 17 photocopied pages given to me by a friend in Austin. I’ve also been reading a book called “Healing Anger: The Power of Patience from a Buddhist Perspective,” The latter is a collection of talks the Dalai Lama once gave on patience and tolerance. Reading of this sort is extremely challenging, and much of it doesn’t quite yet ring true for me. For example, I definitely find it hard to accept the notion of being consciousness. Not being ME, sitting IN a room, IN a building, IN South Korea, IN the world, IN the universe. But actually being all these things at once… being the universe. As an idea, I love it… and I’d even say I’ve experienced moments of full understanding, when I knew this to be true, without doubt or confusion. But… in the day to day… in the intellect, where I am often stuck (as most of us are), it is a difficult truth to accept.

And that just goes for one part of my reading that I can actually comprehend. For every comprehended idea, there are a number more that I can’t even grasp intellectually. I read and re-read sentences, going “Now what the hell could that even mean?” Buddhist philosophy… it’s not for the faint of heart, the easily frustrated, or easily led.

I gently persevere. I read. Each time I read, I comprehend more. The next time I read the same idea, I understand. So relentless is my personal pursuit of “getting to the bottom of everything” that I am always having experiences that shed light on some obscure, challenging piece of the puzzle.

For example… there’s reincarnation. This has always been a terrifically romantic notion for me… a sort of beautiful antidote to the Christian notions of heaven and hell that I grew up with. When I first began studying Buddhism and meditating, I read about reincarnation, enjoyed it. But… I don’t just latch on to any old idea that sounds pretty or offers an excellent alternative to the Christian ideology. So I read it. I sighed. “Aaaahhhhhh.” I let it make me warm and fuzzy. I moved on.

It is said when the Buddha became fully enlightened, he saw all of his past lives. He knew the design and workings of the universe, of everything. All was clear, laid out neatly before him. Badass that he was…

Until about 4 months or so ago, I had never had even the slightest hint of a past life (that I know of). Then… as it often does… it happened! I was sitting in class, with my 6th graders… and I was… well, zoning out, honestly. I zoned in… got present… and suddenly it came to me in a flash. A memory so complete it involved all of the senses. I saw a corner, the corner of a building. The color yellow. Perhaps some brickwork at the bottom of the two walls. The main portion of the building was smooth. The road was dirt, but there was a road. It seemed to me like one small corner of an ancient, dusty city. Just as quickly as it came, the image went. I was stunned, wondering what exactly I had just seen. I physically felt as though I’d just pulled something from deep within my mind. (Don’t ask what this feels like. I’d be hard pressed. Just trust me on this one.) And I knew quickly… that I’d just had my first glimpse of – dunh dunh dunh – a past life. *Cheers*

Do I now believe whole-heartedly in reincarnation? No. My appreciation for the idea grows. I’m starting to see just how it all fits together, how this concept fits into the picture I’ve already been working on, using everything else I’ve learned over the years. “Yes yes,” I think. “Yes, this all goes together quite nicely.”

Lately the idea’s been affording me comfort and smiles. So often people tell us to live it up! Enjoy your life! It’s the only one you have! You only get one shot! And on those days, when I feel I am perhaps not living up to some’s standards of living a “full” life, I think, “Nah… I’ll be back.” And I laugh.

And for now… this feels right. True.