Alive
On being connected to something I don't yet fully understand.
“Sometimes life is like that. You get diarrhoea, but traffic is amazing."
There are very few places in the world where a sentiment like this just makes sense. One of those places is Jakarta.
It goes without saying that Jakarta is nothing like Singapore. In Jakarta, self-appointed traffic wardens plant themselves at congested intersections, performing a kind of waltz as they weave in and out of the chaos, halting, directing, and guiding the flow of vehicles. As cars pass them by, windows lower and drivers hand them cash, and this is how they make their living.
Some will say, thank god Singapore is more orderly and predictable.
My thoughts are that, in Singapore, when things don't work, we as individuals are rarely the first ones to try and fix anything. There is always an expectation that someone else does it first.
What do we gain from the cities we choose to live in? What do we lose in the process, that we may not even be aware of?
A few days before I arrive in Indonesia, I am running a workshop for just over 20 people. It feels like it has quite gone well, but I am too tired to fully appreciate any of it.
It begins at 7 in the evening, and while we end at 9, many stay behind to chat and hang out. This part is nice and I remember most of it. At 10 PM I start gently telling everyone we need to close up, and I pack up as quickly as I can. I'm grateful that with whatever energy I have remaining, I get to catch up with a friend as we share a cab back to our corner of the island.
I've started realising that sometimes, even when I'm exhausted, I can still, through sheer focus and willpower, summon the energy that I need to function. But the trade-off is that this kind of energy makes me feel frantic. It's sort of like getting a speed boost in Mario Kart—you go faster, but you have less control.
In this case, I can fend off the fatigue, but I am also more impatient and less present. I have more opinions, and I can forget to slow down and listen. It's been a while since I've seen this friend, so I remind myself that it is enough to just have a conversation, even if it's about nothing in particular.
How would I rather others perceive me? As someone who is sleepy and kind, or as someone who is energetic but unforgiving? This is what I think about an hour later when I'm packing—something which I have left to the last minute.
As a result, I lack the presence of mind to be strategic or meticulous. I overpack, and end up bringing stuff I don't need.
5 hours later, in a car on the way to the airport, it occurs to me how lucky I am that I get to say I overpacked. To say that I have stuff I don't need.
In other words, I already have enough. My job is to pay attention.
During the previous night's conversation, my friend comments that I am leading the jet-set life. My instinct is to laugh it off, to downplay and dismiss it. But I stop, and then a moment later, say, "This is the life I wanted, and it's slowly coming together."
These days, I feel like I am finally learning that there is no 'arriving', at least not in the way I often expect. It is more important instead to try and notice the little surprises along the way—like, for instance, the fact that things are going well.
I am now in Bandung, walking through the hills and forest surrounding Kampung Cireundeu. Because this area is considered sacred ground by the local villagers, shoes are not allowed. And so I am walking barefoot.
It's amazing how quickly you can go from fear to acceptance when you simply surrender to what is happening. Later, our host comments that I look so comfortable, it's as though I've been doing this for years.
In a way, it feels like I have. Somewhere in my body, I am recalling a sensation. It feels new, yet also like it has been there since forever. It feels like a vastness and also a kind of lightness.
With each step, I scan for both danger and support. There is no room for anything else in my mind, and I have no choice but to trust that wherever I choose to step, it will be okay.
On certain stretches of the path, there are small rocks, broken branches, and dried grass that is both scratchy and slippery. As we head into the late morning, the ground begins to warm. At certain points, it's not possible at all to stop moving. Stop, and your feet will be scorched.
This is not, by any means, a relaxing stroll. We start going downhill, and some steps I take actually hurt. Yet it does not help to be too careful. If you are too careful and do not commit to gripping the earth with your feet, that is how you lose your balance.
I don't know if this is a strange thing to say, but I have not always been aware of having a body. When I'm walking barefoot on the earth, conscious of every step that I'm taking, I begin to remember.
Joseph Campbell, the author who wrote The Hero With A Thousand Faces, said that we are not seeking the meaning of life. Instead, what we're really seeking is the experience of being alive.
I feel like maybe I'm starting to understand what this means. Only on two other occasions have I felt this way: the time I went surfing, and whenever I worked as a barista, had great colleagues on shift, and everyone knew exactly what to do without a single word needing to be exchanged.
It is the sensation of being fully present, and of being carried by something invisible. I am moving my feet against the earth, but the earth is also moving me.
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I really liked this post! I loved the example of jakarta's dynamic traffic "directors" and that bit about searching for "the experience of being alive". Thanks for writing :)