Measuring Me

A good friend asked me the other day, curious about how my traveling has treated me, "Have you felt like you discovered yourself more?"

I hesitated before typing out a succinct answer (yes, we were texting). 

It was hard to answer this question. I do not even know whether I am discovering more about myself. 

OK, let's ignore what I just said so I can change my previous answer into this:

I do know I am discovering more about myself, but I don't know what I am discovering exactly. 

There. Shit. I should have said that instead to her, dammit! 

But really, I usually don't find out what I've learned until years later, looking back to where I used to be and counting the number of steps I took from that point up to now. That's when I can measure how much I've grown since then and what lessons I've chosen to carry within my heart, within my mind and within my soul.

When I was living in Mendoza, Argentina for a month, depression began to rise inside me. At first, I was somewhat pertified and very, very embarrassed by this soul-sucking emotion. How could I feel that way when I was living out one of my many dreams?

I was not fluent in Argentinean Sign Language (LSA) and was often mocked for this and for the fact I never mastered the art of lip-reading. I was constantly exhausted from trying desperately to fit in and from cultural shock, especially Deaf cultural shock. I beat myself up quite a lot for what I initially saw as my epic failure as a decent global citizen. I felt alone and lonely in my own experience.

Three months later, I was beyond grateful and even ecstatic for this lonely time in Argentina. 

This experience fed the fire within me that prompted me to become even more determined about forming my experience in Chile, where I spent a month after Argentina. I threw myself completely into the Deaf Chilean culture. I insisted on using Chilean Sign Language all the time. I demanded for respect towards my background (especially the fact that I suck at reading lips). 

Because of Argentina, I learned to adjust better to life in Chile. Because of Argentina, I grew stronger in spirit and hungrier for more challenges. 

Five years later, I am thinking of Argentina with great love and admiration. I long to return to Argentina simply to appreciate its culture more with my wiser, happier and more experienced self. 

I saw my twenty-year-old self as very young, very naive and full of wild imagination. I applauded her courage to live in a different country without even a thought about how difficult it might be. I understood her despair when she realized that the world out there is not exactly what she had imagined. I was proud of her willingness to see more of the world and to find a way to love Argentina. 

It took me months and years to measure my growth from the time spent in Argentina. Even now, I am still overwhelmed by the sheer power my experiences in Argentina has over me and am still measuring its influence over me.

Billions of experiences, some as small as a second and some as big as a decade, had passed in my life, and I could measure my growth based on a very small number of them. As for the rest, it is taking other experiences to give me a way to better measure, to better understand, and to better see the discoveries I am making about myself. These other experiences have not happened yet and I am still waiting to find out how every experience in my life is connected to every other experience. 

Sometimes I wonder perhaps I am not actually trying to discover more about myself. 

Maybe I don't really care what I will find out about myself. 

Maybe I care more about giving up on myself, as in coming to terms with myself and simply accepting whoever I am. 

That is what I want, all I ever want, from myself: unconditional self-love. 

Maybe I believe that when I can fully and totally love myself without criticizing myself, annoying the hell out of myself, putting myself on guilt trips, and all the other conditions that make my love seems so undeserving for myself, I can too love others fully and totally. 

Maybe I will learn how to love anybody and everybody in this world without criticizing them, annoying the hell out of them, putting them on guilt trips, and all the other conditions that make my love seems so undeserving for them. 

It is possible that love has no price and that I alone fooled myself into believing that I must pay the non-existent price to love myself and others by insisting upon perfection and other specific conditions from myself and others. 

These maybes are the thoughts that are coming more and more often to me after years of mining gems from life experiences. 

For now, I am thinking that through discovering more about myself, I am unlocking a part inside me that has imprisoned me from loving myself and others freely. 

Perhaps the more I discover, the freer I will be to love.

Or maybe I am just fooling myself. 

Who knows? I am still measuring that--or still trying to give up. 

Oh, man. 

      What's life without a bit of play?

Twenty Six

Twenty six.

Twenty six years.

Or as I like to think, twenty six gold stars for making this far in life. 

I earned every gold star for the lessons I learned, for the achievements I took pride in, for the failures I bemoaned over, and for the stories I made during the journey I took around the Sun.  

I am growing older in the form, but my soul is growing lighter and I am feeling younger. 

Looking back to the twenty-six years I've spent on this earth, I am incredulous to see how my life has turned out. 

As a child, I dreamt of traveling the world, of growing up into a kind of woman who is madly in love with her life, and particularly a lifetime filled with unimaginable adventures. 

And whoa. I am now living out my childhood dreams. I am living a life that would astonish and delight the child I once was.

What a relief to have managed to live up to this little child's high expectations! 

However, of course, my life is not beyond perfection. I have not found peace in my life. I am still being too hard on myself for desiring so many things and for not getting everything I thought I wanted. 

I am still learning. I am still living. I am still searching.

Yet, the longer I am alive, the more excited I am to recognize that I am indeed growing wiser, more accepting and even more peaceful. Life begins to feel more right and more aligned to the deepest parts within myself. 

Now I am turning my attention to you, my reader, my supporter, and my friend.

Without you, a piece inside me will not be made. Without you, a thought will not occur to me. Without you, an emotion will not inhale and exhale within me. 

You, every one of you, taught me something about life.

Some of you slowed me down and slapped me in the face to humble me, giving me new insight about the true meaning of love. 

Some of you stirred me up into discovering my inner gifts and then nurtured these gifts to allow me to share them with the world. 

Some of you blessed me with your kindness and wisdom and gave me the courage to face life. 

Some of you held my hand tightly, holding my heart in your hands, guiding me to trust and love more than I thought I could. 

My teachers. My guides. My friends. My loves. 

You, you, you, and you, you all inspired me. 

Without you, I will not be what I am at this very moment. 

I am very proud, very honored and very blessed to have the opportunity to connect my life with yours and to allow this connection to awaken something within me. 

Today is my birthday, but it is also the day  I celebrate your contribution to the making of my life, the making of me.

I thank you for partaking a role during my twenty-fifth year around the Sun.

You, each one of you, have changed a part within me that makes all the difference in the world I am seeing before my own eyes. Each of you deserves my gratitude. Each of you played your role wonderfully and I am delighted to be blessed by your presence. 

All of you have brought me this far in this life.

All of you gave me many reasons to celebrate my existence and to be so excited about my upcoming twenty-sixth journey around the Sun.

Thank you. 

Coincidence, Fate, or Just Life

Three years ago, I was in Las Vegas for Deaf Nation Expo when I made a new friend from France. 

We exchanged numbers and made many promises to meet up, like, very soon.

And it did not happen. So I decided he was among countless significant yet random encounters and that I will never see him again. I deleted his number. 

Three or four months later, of all the places in the world, I bumped onto him at Starbucks in Washington, DC. We both exclaimed over this surprising reunion, exchanged numbers again, and made many promises to meet up, like, really very soon. 

It did not happen. I sighed, deciding that, while it was very strange to find him again, it was still a random encounter. No point in keeping his number if I was not to see him ever again. 

Seven months later, I changed plans at the very last minute and joined a friend in Toulouse, France to attend her deaf association meeting. And, of all the places in the world, I found him again. We were absolutely shocked to recognize each other and warily agreed to meet up for dinner that evening along with other friends. 

Instead of exchanging numbers, we became Facebook friends. Instead of making many promises of meeting up, we nodded good-bye and parted ways, wondering if we will manage to find each other. 

Indeed, I saw him again in Bulgaria weeks later. 

The whole point behind this bizarre tale is that I often wonder if these such encounters could be constituted as mere coincidences, tru biz fate or just . . . life? 

Years ago, during the tarot reading in New Mexico, a psychic blurted out something about India only to change the subject as soon as I scoffed, "India and me, we have nothing to do with each other!"

Well, look at me now, tumbling out of India after two months. How should I explain that connection between the tarot reading and the life fact? Am I overthinking this connection? 

Coincidence? Fate? Or just life? 

At the Nepal-India border, Violet pointed at a young woman, whispering, "I will never dare to wear sneakers like that!" 

I nodded, discreetly studying the woman's fashion choice. 

Two days later, Violet pointed at the same woman, whispering, "Hey, look at that woman with the sneakers from the border!"

I nodded, discreetly studying the same woman as our rowboats passed each other on the Holy River.

Should we name this encounter a crazy coincidence? Fate? Or just life? 

In Jaipur, a friend caught up with Violet and me. It was an one in a million chance that he managed to find us in the right coach on the train of over forty coaches and hundreds of passengers. We were stunned to see him running as our train began to move. I had trouble focusing on his words of warning about the train's unusual course, feeling so distorted to process the fact that he found us and that we were at the very right place to see him. 

Fortunately, his astonishingly timed warning saved us from completely missing our next destination, which could have led us to totally mess up our carefully planned itinerary. 

Should we call his timeliness a coincidence? Fate? Or just life? 

Recently, in Krabi, Thailand, I was amazed to encounter a familiar face along with other familiar faces we've planned to see. 

This time, this friend was from the United Kingdom. I've met him during Deaflympics (our Deaf answer to Olympics) and thought I will never see him again. 

Obviously, I was very much mistaken. 

However, this little surprise brought me back to this thought about how life works with these kinds of things. 

I am hesitant to debate about coincidences, fate and life in general, mainly because I have gotten myself so confused lately with sorting life out. I have long since decided to merely call these kinds of things synchronic--or a series of connections in life that serve only to prove that life is life.

However, I could not help thinking that, with these surprising encounters, the world is a small place after all. 

It could be a Deaf thing. We Deafies belong to a very small minority and are zealous about protecting our communities around the world. We passionately value our impenetrably powerful experience as Deaf individuals and feel deeply connected to others around the world, all of whom represent every shade, every color, and every meaning of this rich experience that unites us all as the Deaf people. 

This kind of community is very tiny, which makes the chance of encounting the same people very likely to happen. 

Yet, I have met the same random non-Deaf people again and again around the world. The chance of that kind of encounter is--or should be--insanely impossible. 

Furthermore, I could not forget that psychic's mention about India. 

It is very, very debatable to absolutely insist that these incidents above are just coincidences or even fate.

It is very, very easy to just smile and say everything that happens is just a part of life.

However, I've come to really enjoy the idea that the world, this lovely, lovely place we all reside in, is much smaller that we would've anticipated. 

So small that we sometimes see people we thought we would never see again. So small that we are sometimes surprised by how life works things out in our favor. So small that our lives are sometimes predictable. 

Yet the world is overflowing with so many things to see, to experience, and to predict. In this respect, the world is far bigger than we could even dare to imagine.

It is such a pleasant though as it is connected to the idea that we all were born somewhat connected to each other in this grand scheme of life. We all are in this life together. 

For now, at this moment of wondering about life, I am enjoying seeing the world as this tiny snowglobe so easy to shake up, so easy to calm, and so easy to watch. 

To be alive is to wonder. 

    Monkey Beach, Koh Phi Phi, Krabi,        

                        Thailand 

India and I: Surrender

Firstly, let me take you down the lane of memories:

The Arabic Sea near the Bandra-Worli      

Bridge and the Bandra Fort in Mumbai. It is one of my favorite parts in the big city. Interesting fact: with a bit walking, we ended up in Bollywood, India's answer to Hollywood.

 The valley in the ruddy mountains in     Ooty. Ooty is one of the most "local" towns Violet and I had ever visited in India. Very small, not quite alike other towns in India, and a gorgeous spot to visit. 

Varkala Beach is my favorite beach in India. During our stay there, the storm came. Lightening thundered and rolled very nearby. Rain poured, soaking the small trail that connects all the hotels, restaurants and massage centers. We spent hours in the dark at a bar, chatting over candles and enjoying our drinks, before we decided to run to our hotel, treading carefully on the wet trail atop the cliff.  

We were the bumbling idiots in Kanniyakurai. We missed the real sunrise because we thought we already saw the rising of the Sun. We did not see the perfect sunset due to the evening fog. However, we comforted ourselves by eating parotta. A lot of parotta. Our all-time favorite meal in India. 

Behold the god of parotta. This man cooked the best food in India for us. Twice. He remembered our order at our second visit. It's magical to watch him cooking; he had two of the fastest hands I ever saw and was so extraordinarily effortless in slapping the dough, stirring up the mixture, and sweeping up the parotta. He is the god of parotta. 

Nepal, Nepal, Nepal. My heart sings at the very thought of you. Mountains everywhere. A place to find adventures, adventurers and to be adventurous. Many went to Nepal only to return with magic to remember and peace to feel. Nepal is in my future.

We walked to Nepal. We walked to India. International border security fascinates me in general, and I feel it is my duty to report that it is very possible to reach Nepal via India by foot and to India via Nepal by foot. Just don't forget your passport and be sure to find a place to get your departure and arrival stamps.

The Ganges River in Varanasi is holy indeed. While I am not a big believer in viewing something holier than other things, I can understand why they consider this river holy. It certainly has a mystic touch. If you observe the river as a whole, you'll see buildings surrounding it. On the right, there was darkness, blackness, and ashes, where bodies were blessed in the holy water and burned in the fire. On the left, there was light, brightness and music, where monks perform their sacred rituals to honor the holiness of life and death. 

Ah, one of the Seven Wonders of the World, India's Taj Mahal. From afar, it was white. Up close, there were beautifully delicate details on the place, little paintings and tiny carvings. Taj Mahal's ivory coloring was actually designed to reflect the changes of the day. As the sun set, the ivory Taj Mahal began to blush with a pink tint. That's when we left to catch our train to Jaipur. 

We ended our trip with a three-day camel safari in Jaisalmer. A very glorious experience to bond with my camel (Ahmed, I call him), to watch the sun fading into the night, to look up to the stars, and to sleep in the desert, feeling as if I had been enveloped by peace. Life is wonderful.

Okay, now back to my thoughts . . .

           Facing myself. Literally.

So.

My seven-week adventure in India had finally reached the finish line.

What do I think of India? 

Hmm.

Let's be honest. 

It is a simple question to which I have a complex answer.

The best answer I can offer is that I feel about India the same way I feel about my brothers. 

My brothers and me, we are three very different people. One is getting married to his girlfriend of three years, whom I haven't met and whose wedding I will miss. One is a math wizard working on his Ph.D in a field I barely understand. 

As for me, well, I got my nose pierced in the same year I got my Master's in Linguistics and left the United States (hope you'd still love me, mom). 

While growing up with two brothers so distinct from me in personality and way of life, it was quite a struggle to love them completely when I did not understand how the fuck we all managed to be born into the same family. 

We fought all the time and spent a lot of time avoiding each other. 

It took our father's death to bring us back together, really together, as in being an actual trio of siblings. We got along fantastically and loved each other fiercely during our most painful time and came to recognize each other's strengths. We really saw how each of us contributed to our family. We came to truly respect each other. 

We haven't perfected the fine art of being siblings, but I think we're finding comfort in being a dysfunctional trio. 

We are surrendering to our differences and are granting each other permission to live differently from each other. 

That is how I feel about India.

I did not fall in love with India.

I had my moments of thoroughly despising everything related to India.

India annoyed me. It pissed me off at times. At other times, India was very affectionate towards me. It warmed me. 

To be fair to India, I can be such a bratty bitch sometimes. My brothers knew how I was (I hope they also remember how utterly adorable I can be sometimes). 

India tugged on and nudged against my heart like my brothers had done, proving both its challenge and its worth to be loved.

It is only when I gave up resisting India's differences and surrendered to its uniqueness did I learn to love India in the same way I love my brothers. 

It is not an easy love, a happy fondness, a sweet affection. 

It is an emotional love filled with memories of ancient grudges, familiar joys, and hard-earned respect. 

I wanted to love India like others professed to love. I wanted to adore India like my Indian friends have. I wanted to dream pleasant dreams every time I think of India.

But I am me, whoever I happen to be, and India is as familiar as my brothers are to me and I love them--India and my brothers. It takes effort, but my brothers are two unique beings, just like India.

India, thank you for all the lessons you've taught me. The memories you brought into my life are the jewels I will never find anywhere else. You've certainly left footsteps on my heart. I hope you liked the way I punched and embraced you. 

That's what I did to my brothers, with love and all. 

                   Cheeky love to all.