Standing in line for the skytrain, formulating my next blog
post in my head, already feeling better just from thinking about writing, I suddenly step away from myself enough to
realize that there are many people on the platform, and I am the only one standing where I am standing.
Everyone else is qeued up in lines behind the yellow arrows pointing towards where the doors will open (ahh Asia). Ohhh!!! Feeling
almost as sheepish as when I kept walking to the exit while every other soul
stopped in their tracks for the 6 PM singing of the national anthem (I didn’t
even notice until I started looking around for Paige, and still didn’t notice that everyone else was stopped until I saw her
standing still, her shocked face mixed with embarrassment at her ignorant and
disrespectful sister), I swallowed my sense of entitlement and got to the end
of the line that had created around me as I stood, lost in my mind.
My skytrain oblivions are perfect examples of what I am
motivated to write on today… my lack of “here”ness, my distractedness, and this
gaping inability to settle my mind. I started writing earlier about Paige’s and
my time at a little beach in Koh Samet called Ao Nuan. The resort was a little
hidden away nook on the island, which we trekked through the jungle (snake
sightings included) to arrive at a number of bungalows set back in the trees yet
still within tumbling distance of the ocean. As was fitting for this
off-the-beaten place hideaway, I settled down with one of the two decent books
on their share shelf, Into the Wild.
I was wondering if my mind would settle here where there was
no internet or even any distractions, leaving me with nothing to do but lie on
the beach reading the book, but I found myself engaging in another type of
escapism. Into the Wild was a really
enjoyable read and I definitely lost myself in it, never truly leaving the
beach, but not getting swept away by any wilderness idealism either (though
reading it combined with trekking with my big backpack over trails for twenty
minutes did have me longing for the High Peaks and October leaves). Yet it left
me asking, what role did reading that book play in my time at Ao Nuan? I wasn’t
present for the waves or the sand, at least not holistically. Sure, I felt the
ants crawling up my shorts occasionally and I appreciated the poached bananas in coconut
milk our interesting host suggested we try, but even in my conversations with
said host… was I ever that present?
This consternation has plagued me since I first became settled
at Pakarang over a month ago. After the newness of the place wore off, I found
myself looking for the next place. I’ve already mentioned this view of my
time in Thailand as merely an in-between phase, and my mind is definitely
looking forward to something more long-term where I can commit myself knowing that
with time I will reap the benefits that come from such commitment. Seeing my
time in Thailand as a bridge of sorts, exacerbated by my current homelessness (I have been living out of my backpack and traveling all over Thailand for over two weeks), it has left me incredibly
antsy and unsettled. This antsiness manifests itself in many different forms-- from realizing that during a massage I cannot calm my mind
at all, regrettably unlike the ease
with which I could do so in the past, to being unnecessarily indecisive about guesthouses, to noticing that my conversations with
people leave me feeling embarrassed and empty.
Empty is a strong word, but it is definitely how I felt after
my conversation with our personable but distracted Ao Nuan host. Perhaps it is
just that we were both interested in talking about certain “deep” things, but
lacked the intimacy to do so having only just met. And because we were not
imbibing we did not create an illusion of intimacy either. This may well be the
case, however I have known individuals with whom I can have a connecting and
somewhat intimate conversation with without much previous interaction. Where
does this “present”ness come from? Why have I lost it, and furthermore, did I
ever really have it? Traveling leaves me with little time to reflect on this
(thought I am incessantly reminded of it), and I am sure more blog posts will
be written on it as my thoughts slowly come back together.
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