We came together by chance, or by providence. Together we discovered our truest selves, the selves we hide beneath our characters, the people we project, the roles others accept us in. We discovered, we dove deep, we reveled… together, connected… in short bursts… in spaces small and boundless.

But it was frightening. It is frightening. Were… are… either of us ready for what we found there?

I’d like to think that I was ready… am ready… but now, without you there… watching you spend so much time with someone who supports your little character and asks no more of you than that… I find myself locked back in my character. The little me, the hurt one, the sensitive one, the one who sees all yet won’t look so honestly at herself. The one who looks for something… specific… and can’t settle for anything greater. Naturally, here I find little love, little openness, little life.

Little me does not have any interest in living so honestly and so fully, but rather in sitting back and watching, waiting, judging, guarding. She has no interest in little you, does not find that part of you charming or amusing anymore.

She still has many questions to ask of you. Mainly, WHY. She still wants to know why…

And yet, I can’t deny… that just to be in your presence brings me to that place of peace and openness. Indeed it’s almost better that there is no talking, no words. The words distract- they are never what we want to hear. Our characters don’t truly listen.

The question I must ask myself now is… am I ready? Whether or not you are is unimportant, inconsequential. Can I discard the questions and demands, the ideas and expectations? Can I take you completely… impersonally?

It feels like a giant leap.

I seem to remember having a cold this time last year. Illness is becoming a New Year’s tradition. No “Why, god, why??” or “Woe is me.”- I’m not upset about this. I find it fitting… comforting… right… somehow…

Looking back on Tu O One Won, thinking specifically about my blog-writing, I did A LOT of looking inward, chronicling my inner life and emotions. In detail. I recall several instances, throughout the year and that process, of getting bored with it. I was bored, and I wondered what on earth anyone reading my blogs could be getting out of it. But I couldn’t help myself- I couldn’t bring myself to see or write anything else. (Usually. There are exceptions to this, of course.)

Looking back, it’s clear to me now that the insistence on this chronicling made perfect sense. From early in the year to about mid-November, I was involved in some major inner work. This culminated in the magnificent figurative face plant that was the latter half of November and the whole of December. Annihilation. Destruction. Apocalypse. Whatever we wish to call it… THAT was the last month and a half for me.

Strange that this episode fit almost perfectly, entirely into the span of one year. I didn’t consider these kinds of things to be great respecters of the small human concept of time.

Strange, too, that sometimes you can be close to someone and discover that the purpose of that closeness is to evolve and to leave that person and that relationship behind.

While the fallout keeps… fluttering gently to the ground… things have calmed down. I was disappointed to discover, on my New Year’s trip to Seoul, that I haven’t fully healed or forgiven. But then, I know better, don’t I? There’s nothing for hurt that deep, but time.

In between occasional relapses and otherwise uncomfortable moments, I have flashes of a way of being I am not familiar with. All I can make of those flashes… thus far… is strength. A strength in and of myself that is greater than I had before. A greater faith in the interconnectedness. Less desperation and loneliness. More peace and “Everything is OK.”

Other topics bring me to a blank, black space. Self-protection or a system still processing?

I made a friend up there in Seoul. We talked for much of New Year’s night, then much of the two days after. Open channel, easy understanding (although the woman’s first language is not English- kudos to her for keeping up with me and my existential babble). This was a perfect way to begin the new year. A reminder of who I am, what I do. So much time spent wanting something I don’t have and likely don’t need, this wanting and pursuit of said fantasy and silliness bringing me to the Great Kersplat of 2011.

This year will be different. Not because there was anything wrong with last year- on the contrary, I can’t see last year as anything but humblingly awesome (awesome, as in full of awe or awe-inspiring, not the common slang). As I emerge from the emotional intensity, my focus is shifting and I’m looking to… well, I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking to do.

It’s looking to not be a question of what I want to do or don’t want to do… but, instead a question of just what’s happening. How hard must we really work? What pressure must we really put on ourselves? In the end, it seems all just happens on its own, as it’s going to, as it’s meant to. And in the end, all is also just fine as it is.

As usual. Nothing so new there.

Hope you’re enjoying your brand new year…

It’s completely awesome anytime, in any context, but especially for me… at the moment.

Last week was a week of “do.” That’s how I kept thinking of it, as I looked back, as it moved on. I just… did… all week… with very little thinking or planning or analyzing.

Obviously I went to work. I did things there, without thinking or worrying too much about what I was doing or how I could be doing things better.

And I took an unusual amount of simple pleasure in straightening up my apartment when I got home at night. I put things in their right places, took out the heaps of recycling, did a few dishes, put laundry away. Every night. And, to be clear, I wasn’t cleaning out of some compulsion – “Everything MUST BE CLEAN!!” No… just… a thing to do… a task to sink myself into. One way of enjoying the present.

The big “do” for the week, and the reason maybe I’m suddenly in such a place of do… was kickboxing. There’s nothing like physical exercise to bring a person into the present. Last week I started paying closer attention to my diet, upping my protein consumption and overall caloric intake (which has been too low for too long, I suddenly understood). With the increase in energy came an increase in what I’m doing at the kickboxing gym and in what I want to be doing at the kickboxing gym. Suddenly I was thinking “Wow… I can do this.”

I’m not even sure why I’m doing Muay Thai, to be honest. It just feels… very very right… like I’ve chanced my way into the perfect activity at the perfect time. I’ve always had some interest in fighting- I’ve taken taekwando and another form of Korean martial arts, briefly. I took boxing for a few months in Austin. I joined a boxing gym here in Korea a while ago (and went maybe twice). And now… it seems… all’s coming together. If there’s anything I’m going to do with this “fighter fantasy,” now’s simply the time. I’m 34, you know…

I’m focusing now on eating enough, improving my overall level of athletic ability and improving my Muay Thai moves. Improving. That’s the word. Whether or not I fight in the future doesn’t matter- I just want to get better. And through all this, I’ll gain a better understanding of my body and how it works.

I’m a big fan… of understanding.

“Only to the extent that we expose ourselves over and over to annihilation can that which is indestructible be found in us.” – - – Pema Chodron

I check in occasionally, with the quotes I’ve listed under the FAVORITE QUOTATIONS section of my Facebook page. I want make sure they still hold up, they still ring true for me.

The above Pema Chodron is one of those “favorite quotations.” And it always continues to ring true.

I don’t remember when it first came to my attention, but I remember seeing it on a friend’s alter, in Austin, and staring at it for the longest time, as the meaning and the relevance… to my experience of life… really sank in .

Much of my journey, especially here in Korea, has been about a certain amount of annihilation. (Um, for those who don’t know who Pema Chodron is, she’s a teacher of Buddhist wisdom and meditation, who makes her home in Canada, not a dictator of a small Southeast Asian nation who enjoys genocide. Just so we’re clear…)

I suddenly remembered, a few days ago, something I stumbled upon during my first year and nine months in Korea. I say stumbled- in hindsight, I think I worked meticulously to reach the conclusion, perhaps something I’d always suspected… or feared.

The conclusion was that life was, essentially, meaningless. I won’t take us down the long, windy, rocky road that led to such a conclusion, but… basically… I just questioned and uprooted everything, to the point that suddenly I had nothing left to stand on. My most basic assumptions were obliterated and I was… suddenly… thrown into this total, cold chaos.

Annihilation.

I was extremely depressed when I left Korea, and you can imagine this conclusion wasn’t helping matters much. It plagued and upset me for a long time after I happened upon it- I couldn’t quite shake it, or shake the fear it engendered.

As you do, I forgot about it. When I returned to Korea, found myself in a much happier and more stable state of mind, and looked back on that, I realized that what I had done was to quite naturally… and automatically… begin to find meaning. To make it, as it were… or… to zero in on those things that seemed pretty cool and stick with them.

I continue to do this today, the fear of meaningless never visiting me.

And this… is how I do things. I often get myself into trouble, especially on Facebook – I write these things out far more readily than I speak them. Someone comments on a current hot topic and I deconstruct as much as possible and end up starting arguments.

Take, for example… this “Occupy insert name of city here” stuff. I’ve always been largely indifferent to “popular movements,” if that’s what we can call them. I lived in Seattle and Austin, for goodness sake, and I think I’ve attended one protest in my life. I’ve never… found the motivation. I’ve never fully understood what on earth people were doing when they charged out to protest something. I sat back… and did what I’ve always done. I watched and pondered… a little.

I’ve never been angry about things. And I don’t think I need to be. Anger is… an extreme. I have my moments – I was angrier this past week than perhaps anytime in my life – but for the most part, anger and I don’t mesh. I tend to get upset and red-faced, yell a little bit… then people laugh at me… and I realize I have no idea what I’m angry about. Or else… I realize I’m angry about something entirely unrelated to the situation at hand.

Back to “Occupy someplace.” There’s been lots of talk about this, as there should be. Tensions are rising, things are happening, it’s news. I’ve gotten myself into a few small tiffs with people about the whole shibang.

Because I’m not angry. And yes, I have been paying attention. I am well aware of the “atrocities” of these horrible over-rich people, lining their pockets while the “common man” can not get by. While the middle class is destroyed. I lived in Seattle and Austin, I repeat. People there are nothing if not… uppity (especially Seattle, good lord). I’ve heard it all. I’ve read all the liberal publications. I’ve read a lot of conservative ones, too. I’ve fraternized with anarchists, socialists, capitalists, hippies, punks, democrats, republicans, libertarians, queers, radicals, etc, ad infinitum.

After talking to all these people, I’ve realized they’re all wrong. AND… they’re all right.

Back to annihilation. (Keep up with me here…) There are, so far as I can see, some very basic assumptions most people are unwilling (or unable?) to question. Most people seem to rest at a certain point, then jump into the fray (because life is a struggle, damnit!), when a little more digging and questioning could bring to light the fact that all this crap is caused by how bloody egocentric we’ve all become. There’s no one to blame here but those nasty John Cashwads on Wall Street… AND… ourselves and everyone else. Me me me, mine mine mine. From this strong of an ego, all will suddenly appear in terms of what’s fair and what’s not. (It is slightly more complicated than this, but… we haven’t the time, and likely no one’s going to understand what the hell I’m talking about anyway…)

And I… rarely… see things that way. I do not stop at accepting the ego, accepting the concept of “fairness.” We can always look deeper. There are always more layers to strip away, compassion and love to be opened to. The truly open-minded are not those who accept gay people… or accept people of all religions… or love their enemies. The truly open-minded are those who cease to see things in terms of themselves. In terms of the individual. How does one get there?

Annihilation.

Bingo.

Today I tossed myself briefly into another heated “Occupy anywhere” discussion, all the while thinking “Oh Lindsay, here you go again.” Either I was dismissed as a woo-woo nutcase or I made a point- the discussion stopped soon after I attempted to explain myself. But… I hit upon something… in my mind, after all was said and done.

I see what I see. But… indeed… people are not wrong to support this. In the end, I think there’s too much anger, too many mixed motives. And the political response will be band-aids at best… as usual. However… obviously there is something in this that is calling to people, speaking to them. And I think it goes beyond just something to get angry about. I think there’s something deeper. And I think some people stand to learn a lot from it all… even if it has nothing to do with what they think it does.

It’s been on and off my mind, but, in time, everything fades away. We let go and keep living, while new ideas come and are entertained and are eventually also let go.

Right around the time I’d completely let go of this idea, this time around…

It is a cherished ritual to come home from school and smoke a cigarette- the first of the day. Oftentimes when I plop myself out on my "smoking veranda" – a dirty space with windows, an old gas range, and a square-thing-I-haven’t-identified – I am able to fully relax and get into my body, perhaps for the first time that day. I’ve cried in this space several times… cigarette in hand, my butt on the plastic blue stool, my feet propped up on the wall beneath the window. When I’m not crying or settling into my body, I often gaze out at the goings-on in my neighborhood (which are a lengthy blog post in and of themselves- the cats, the kids, the automobiles) and do some thinking.

This past Monday was a day of clarity and peace. Thoughts came and went, and I didn’t chase them or take them too seriously. From moment to moment I was able to recognize motivations. I challenged myself when I discovered motivations that were what I would consider… "impure"… when I was clearly doing something to escape from something else. I was gentle to myself. It was… a rare, enlightening day.

Monday night… I came home… dropped off my things… and assumed the smoking position. Still at peace, I lit up. I smoked. Thoughts continued to come and go. All of a sudden, without warning… up came… those thoughts. Those feelings. The darkest and ugliest I have. I stared out the window as everything abruptly changed- I was afraid of the future. My life was a complete mess. I had no idea what I was doing, I was going to end up destitute or – worse – living with my parents again. I was a failure. I was wrong. I didn’t deserve the space I take up on this planet, in this life.

To summarize… I absolutely suck.

This is by no means new. For as long as I can remember, I’ve had this darkness stashed away in the recesses of my cranium. It took on a new dimension when I came to Korea, however, and by the time I bolted, a year and nine months later, I was as close to suicidal as I’d ever been in my life. I had hoped that by leaving Korea, I had expelled this anguish from my mind forever, but it isn’t that easy. It pops up now and again (fortunately minus the "suicide" aspect).

(I ask that you all not read this and freak out on me- I am fine. Just acknolwedging my more unpleasant parts, which I feel it is important to be able to do.)

It hasn’t popped up in quite some time. Given the complete peace and clarity of the day on Monday, when it came up that evening suddenly a number of puzzle pieces clicked together. It came, I feared momentarily, I calmed down, I watched it, it went. In the moments that followed, I experienced a little "A-ha" and I thought "So… it’s you."

When I run, figuratively… that’s what I’m running from. I knew this, of course. It’s more obvious than obvious. It’s downright in-my-face overt. But… I made an important new connection with it on Monday night. A string of little connections.

I look back… to my first time in Korea… when this feeling of worthlessness first appeared to me the way it does now… and I fully understand that I was stripped down… figuratively… naked… when I came here. As if the therapist, assigned to me by the universe, was yelling at me "Hey! Idiot! You want to know who you are?? You want to know what you’re running away from?? IT’S RIGHT F-ING HERE!!"

It was presented to me on a… figurative… platter, and I blamed Korea. I blamed culture shock. I blamed myself. I ran… figuratively and literally. I got home, land of so many distractions, got distracted, lost sight of who I am… of who I really am… and I soon determined I needed to be back here.

To be stripped.

To be naked.

(Figuratively speaking…)

To know what is there, at my core.

And knowing… is actually more than half the battle, I’m almost positive…

And I’m also almost positive that what happened on Monday night has given me a new power over my "dark side"…

(On another, possibly related, note, I attended my first Muay Thai kickboxing match last night. To my surprise, it has inspired me to fight… if only once…)