The Answer, my Friend, is Blowing in the Wind

The world is always looking out for us. I find it hard to believe in circumstance when I have narrowly missed life-threatening natural disasters at least four times.

Had I not traveled to Nepal in November and December 2014, perhaps I would have been there in April 2015 when three record-setting earthquakes shattered the country’s resources and killed over 4,000 people. Had I chosen to climb Mount Kinabalu, as planned, rather than travel to Brunei and fly to the Philippines, then perhaps there would have been 17, instead of 16, trekkers killed on the top of the summit during the earthquake that struck at the beginning of June. If I hadn’t been robbed in the Philippines, maybe I would have continued to camp on beaches in the Philippines and Indonesia, and maybe something much more traumatizing would have happened to me. After that experience, and the beginning of the rainy season, I booked my flight out of the Philippines early, and maybe, just maybe that would have put me on the wrong boat that day in June when cyclones hit and 32 people drowned. After all, I was on the same sea, traveling not too far away. If I stayed in Indonesia I would be coping through the massive forest fires that are currently ravishing the nation - particularly in Kalamatan – where seasonal field burning has become the latest nightmare.

I seem to float along like a feather carried by the wind. Although I don’t know where I am going, the wind does. It takes me high above all of the coral reefs, over the volcanoes, through the fiords, and away I go. Carelessly free and floating on the back of this invisible force that seems to hold all harm at bay.

Let Go and Miracles Follow

I believe that there are signs from God, and miracles every day. Some stand-out in my mind because I feel their significance in the moment. One of the most challenging things in my journey has been to let go of my need to control, ask questions, get answers, move forward in my time and my motion. The flow is Gods flow, and the hardest part is not only not having any say or control in the matter, but also not having any idea where the flow goes. I just have to blindly trust that the flow goes to goodness and it will be perfect for me. Holy crap what a hard kind of trust to have in a belief. Blind faith, is what its called. Not because faith is blind, but because people who have blind faith can walk with their eyes closed and know that no matter how rocky it is they will never trip. Sure-ism. That's what blind faith is, and its way more powerful than optimism. Imagine that. I'm not optimistic that everything has goodness, that love is the most powerful thing in the world, that I can get exactly what I want and need in this life just by being a good and loving person. No... I'm not optimistic, I'm sure. I have 100% faith in it. Nothing is impossible, but sometimes it feels impossible to keep the eyes on the prize, on the possible end result, on the Glory, and the dawn. To slowly, but surely, lock my eyes closed and walk forward with confidence in my feet and a smile on my face.

The other day I was in Nha Trang, VietNam. It's a great island and beach town, and I meant to take full advantage of it to rest, restore, and swim. While there I had spoken with some people in passing, and the vibe was really negative. They said something about me losing my camera or having it stolen, and I said how terrible that would be since it has all of my 3,000 photo and video memories from the last 6 months. For some reason, that thought of losing my camera and how terrible it would be remained distantly in the back of my head. I brushed off the feeling this conversation gave me and I moved on.

I always recognize when I say that something is horrible or terrible, and I always try to eliminate those words from my language. I remember, God says "Did you say terrible? You haven't seen anything yet!" Just the same as he says "Amazing? You haven't seen anything yet!"

Wording things positively, no matter how "unrealistic" people might call me, is my main goal. You can blow all of your notions of "unrealism" out of your mind. That is what makes you, you, and me, me. I know there is no such thing as "realism" or "unrealism" or being either of those things. Realism is a cloaked dagger to the heart of positive thinking. I tell myself, no matter what your reasoning mind might say, have faith in God, and believe blindly in His goodness. Now everything is beautiful and perfect. Realism can go find someone else to bother. My thinking is that, I can be realistic all I want, but as soon as being realistic conflicts with being positive, thats when I know that reason is steering me wrong.

Not but a few days after this brief and negative encounter, some Dutch friends I made and I took a boat tour called the Funky Monkey tour. Complete with hysterical live music, suntanning, island beach, snorkeling, beer, and a buffet seafood lunch. All for $10. Perfect day. The sun was the strongest it had been, and I was loving every second of it. When it came time to go snorkeling, I grabbed my trusty waterproof camera, wrapped the cord around my wrist and jumped in the water with the other girls. We swam away from the boat, adapting to the rush of cold turning to warm, while the guys working on the boat threw us all life rings so we could float around if we wanted. I didn't want one because I prefer to swim, but I caught it and was wrapping it around my arm when I noticed that the camera attached to the cord on my wrist was gone. The durable cord I had used for 6 months on land, sea, air, and all kinds of adventure travel, had snapped in the ocean.

Oh. My. God. This can't be real. My world travel adventure alone, where all I have are my memories, what I take with me, and no way to share with anyone else, and all of those things I might have forgotten but captured anyway. All of the videos of dancing with strangers, speeches from tour guides, and weird cultural experiences. All gone. No longer tangible. This can't be real.

I looked around in the water with a horrified urgency on my face and in my movement. The water was not clear. It was 10ft deep and I could swim to the bottom, but because I couldn't see in front of me my lungs panicked at the possibility of not resurfacing, and I couldn't swim too deep because of it. I lost it. I lost it. It's gone.

I told the guy on the boat, and asked him to help me look for it. I don't give up without a fight. There were scuba divers present because some people paid extra for it. I asked the tour guide if a scuba diver could look for it. He said yes, but that if they find the camera I have to pay them. If you find it, I will give you everything in my wallet I will be so happy. It will be better than paying for a new camera! And those photos and videos are literally priceless to me.

It took 10 minutes for the diver to be ready, and I felt myself asking, is he coming, is he coming, we only have 45 minutes here. I had a foot tapping, impatient sense of urgency.

Eventually the diver was ready and I pointed him in the direction I was swimming. There was no current at the time, aside from surface boats, so I had hope he would find it. My heart was entirely engulfed in the camera, I was trying to control the situation, the panic, the finding of it. I was trying to make it happen. I was like a neurotic mom with five kids at Disney World. "Okay now everyone form a single file line, hold hands! and don't make any faces in the picture."
Oh yeah, pictures. Pictures I won't be able to take wit my waterproof camera that won't be able to go under water anymore.
I took hold of myself when I realized what danger my actions and words were ensuing because of my effort to force the situation. I have to let go of this, it's not the end of the world, what is meant to happen will happen. After this thought, one of the girls I traveled with came up to me and said something about, oh poor me, I hope they find it.

It's the fucking ocean. I've been on the ocean my whole life. Lost thousands of things, found none of them.

I ignored the negativity, I knew that I had to reverse what I had said and done to force my will onto this situation. I think he'll find it. It's easy to look for things with scuba gear, theres no current, and it's only 10 ft deep. I'd find it myself if I had scuba gear but they said that I'd have to pay for it. I'm not worried. I'm actually pretty sure they'll find it. All of the factors say yes. Surism is stronger than optimism.

I kept saying stuff like that to myself. 20 minutes passed, and no such luck. The diver went down before I could describe the camera or the location. The diver was circling the whole area, but not where I told him to. All of these factors - I want to fix this. I need to talk to him but he's below the water. I can't do anything. I have to just sit. I realized that what I needed to do was swim. Release the stress and literally remove myself from the situation and let go of my control and my need. I was on a tour, and I love to swim, I shouldn't waist this time worrying and not enjoying. It's out of my hands. Exploring the water while I wait couldn't hurt anything.

I swam far and fast until the boat was distant from my sight and I was almost to shore where the reef could be see from a surface level. I was thinking the whole time, its not the end of the world. I said a prayer out loud if I am meant to have it then it will come back to me, if I am not meant to have it then I don't want it. God returns to me what is mine or replaces it with something better. I said this over and over. Until finally I was used to the idea. I could get a new camera. I can let go of these photos and videos. I have my memory. I have other pictures and things that I've kept. I have my diary, my heart, and my experiences. It's okay. What's meant to happen will happen. Que sera sera.

I looked down in my breast stroke and saw the ocean bottom. I saw that it was jagged and rocky, and it occurred to me, the diver was looking all around the area as if there was a current, but there is no current and the bottom is rocky. My camera is there. He'll find it. I became sure of it. Absolute blind faith. I have no room for doubt because the time for hope is now, and the time for mourning is later or never. Now determines that. Suddenly I had a really strange feeling that might sound a little crazy. I felt like a shark was swimming up to me. I was alone and my bodily reflex jerked around to look into the water. Nothing. I knew there was no shark but I felt like I was being chased, I felt like I had to get out of there and swim back to the boat. 

I returned to the boat just as a new diver was going in to look for my camera. The first diver was tired and didn't find anything. I pointed directly where I landed in the water and said right there. Then I watched the diver go under, because I thought it looked cool and I wanted to see if I could remotely see the bottom. I had no concerns. I had hope, but not grasping onto to it. I was just hanging out and enjoying the day. That's when it happened. ARISEEEEEEEEE SCUBAAA SAINT!! Through the foggy water I saw a flash of the bright orange from my camera and up rises the scuba diver having rescued it from the rocky depths. 

Holy crap! This is a miracle! This is a miracle! I took the camera and thanked them. I wanted to hug them or kiss them but both of the scuba divers disappeared to undress from their swim gear. After I established that the camera still worked just fine (after 30 minutes under water!!), I put it away and the tour guide told me what I had to pay. Something like 500,000VND At least 5 days of food for me. But I remembered what I said and I said it several times. I told the tour guide I wanted to thank the divers. They came and found me, and when they did I emptied my wallet without counting it. I complain too much about money. I'm too desperate for it to maintain my appropriate budget, to complete this journey in the time and manner I want. This was one of many lessons God was giving me. To let go. To trust that I will be provided for. To not give power to money, or my plan - the power is completely in the hands of God. Let go and let God, that's what that is. Let go of my own plan for life, and let God do His work. I can just sit back and be in awe of the miracles that occur and the goodness that finds me.

Absolutely perfect day.

Galway, Ireland & Northern Ireland

I made the small mistake of writing about Ireland while I was in Dublin, before finishing my experience of it! I don't plan to do that again. It's a terrible mistake for anyone to make generalizations based on an experience. I intend only to share my experiences from a firsthand opinion, not for my opinion or experience to be generalized and made into your opinion. Generalizations get in the way, they make us cynical.

So far, even at times when I become cynical and forget my purpose, God or the universe or whatever you call her, sends me something or someone to have the exact impact on my life so that I am put back on track. Sometimes it means I lose things, and sometimes it means I gain people - either way I try to remember to be grateful that I don't have to worry about being brought to a better state of thinking, because the world does it for me.

Galway and the Cliff's of Moher were rather different from Dublin and served as a thinking moment - of fears, of what bravery really means. People had told me I was brave for going on this "trip" (not a vacation, not a study or work abroad - a trip, a bump in the road of life to make sure my shocks are working properly.)
People told me I was brave and people also told me I was stupid. I don't really know what either means to me. I do know that I will always hope for those who think its stupid, I will never forget the feeling of being thought of as brave, and I will remember everyone who expressed either sentiment to me. We never forget the people who trip us, just like we never forget the people who help us stand back up.

So far, the Irish and the people I have met along the way, have all helped me stand up. The people in the west of Ireland were just as friendly and just as open as the ones I had met in Dublin. Theres something about simple kind gestures that reminds me of humanity. Of beauty.

Galway is the western seaport of Irish folk music, where nearby mountains, cliffs, and farmland are right out your window - it was a change of pace from Dublin. The simplicity of the Irish can be summed up in the names of the Galway streets; Market St, Shoppe St, Dock St, Center Square - you can probably guess where to find what, since the names are quite literal. There are no pub crawl streets that I know of... the pubs simply are. 

Galway and the Cliffs caused me to think a lot about how I travel, and what I enjoy. You really have to know yourself and work out all of your personal kinks in order to get going and find comfort in a consistently changing environment. I decided that, what I had always intended was to stay in cities and do day trips out to castles, and hikes.

Galway was a tiny coastal city, much like Portsmouth, NH, or Portland Maine. It is actually the third largest in all of Ireland, with a whopping population of 76,000. The make-up of the town was essentially cobblestone streets with street performers, lots of small shops, restaurants and pubs on the two main drags, then you have seen it all after an hour or less walkabout. I was there on a Sunday, which put me between a weeklong music festival and the beginning of the traditional horse races. There is always a festival in Galway. The city of festivals, I'll call it.

Other than the music, my favorite part of Ireland was that it was homey. Sometimes the greenery of it made me feel like I hadn't even left New England. Out on the hills and through the farms, it was like being in the countryside of New Hampshire, with all of the mountains and free range horses and cows. The perfect transition from home to travel.

I intend to keep pushing myself throughout my trip by going to unfamiliar and challenging places/experiences. For that reason, my first week abroad was in a place that both disappointed me because of its homeyness, and comforted me at the same time.

The Cliffs of Moher were my next personal challenge. Entering the welcome center I had two choices; I could go right and climb up well structured steps to a castle that sat on the cliff's edge - or - I could go left and hike the three or four cliffs where it appeared to be rather challenging. To the left it was far less structured, no stone steps, hardly any fence at all - that's what I chose. I love a good personal challenge. I believe challenge causes growth. I told myself, I am not doing some touristy bullshit just to take a picture. I am hiking. (Step 1 of working out my kinks - know what I like and honor myself by sticking to it.)

The Cliffs of Moher were probably one of the coolest parts of my Ireland adventure. Prior to entering the footpath lining the Cliff's edge was a memorial. A warning really. It went something like:

 "In memory of all the people who have lost their lives at the Cliffs of Moher."

It may as well have said:

 "Warning, people have died doing the stupid shit you are about to do - xoxo the Irish."

More signs said to stay inside the fences for safety. It was a hardy kicker when I realized the design of the fence from the cliffs to the path went like this from out to inland; 750ft drop, cliff's edge, FOOTPATH (and me on the footpath), fence. So if you imagine that, the fence was outside the footpath with no real protection from gravity taking you when you chose to peak over the ledge. Not to mention erosion. It was an Irish caution sign for dummies.

I am terrified of heights. Every time I stopped I had to sit down, otherwise my mind realized my location and sent transmittal signals to the rest of my body that said PANIC! Warning! Don't move or you die! Most of the hike I had to keep my head down in order to not feel a shutter in my heart, and the rest of the time my butt had to be on the ground to know I was safe where I was. I would stop, take a seat, take a picture, followed by a few deep breaths and mantras, then up and onward. Why would I come here? To see the visitor's center? No. I am here to see the Cliffs. No, no. I am here to experience the Cliffs. A friend I had met walked by and said in his Carribean  accent, "what ahh you afraid of? If you fall off dah Cliff, you float and you fly!" His name was Carter, and he had the biggest island smile you could think of. It was the sort of smile people make when they are born and raised in paradise. He had a great thrill about life. I asked him to talk me into continuing. The universe sent me support when I needed it in the form of a carefree Granadian. So we hiked together, me and Carter. I looked at my feet and listened to his stories that he told in his happy free-spirited way.

It was quite windy on top of the Cliffs. I watched seagulls playing in the wind. They would fly up to our eyelevel and then just float, soaring up and down with the wind under their wings like puppet seagulls being tugged up and down by a master. We threw rocks out to the ocean and they floated up above our heads and then whisked back at us. This was no joke. Before I knew it we had made it the entire hike, and it was time to turn back. Inspiration comes unexpectedly, like an uninvited guest you have the choice to be cynical about their presence, or welcome and love them. Carter was so positive and full of life, along the way it reminded me to keep a looseness about me. It's not about taking myself too seriously, it's about taking my life too seriously. The concept of death - it means nothing. I will live forever in my memories - now I just have to make ones that bring me warmth and solitude when I remember them. (A challenging concept to live by, I think.) Now that I wrote that, I can see how Carter really helped me.

We are fearless, young, and beautiful!

After the bus returned me from the Cliffs to Galway, I met a girl named Stephanie from LA. It was nice talking to someone from America, because I didn't have to speak slower than normal, or accidentally mimic an accent and then feel embarrassed by it. I wonder how many people have noticed my ever-changing accent, and thought that I was mocking them. People who are foreigners to me have said that Americans speak too quickly, and are hard to understand. So I always speak slower, and when I do that, people are more confused about where I am from and can no longer guess that I am American - however it also makes me more likely to pick up little odd linguistic dipthongs and slangs that give me an authentic sound. I never tried to do it, but when I spoke "American" for the first time in a week I felt relieved that I wasn't working so hard at speaking slowly and sufficiently with the cultural lingo.

The Northerners call Ireland "Southern Ireland." After traveling from Galway, back to Dublin and then to Belfast - I learned quickly that Northern Ireland is a far different country. The accents are more challenging to understand, rushed and mumbled - as if they are speaking Gaelic and don't even know it. They are also extremely British. I came from my walking tour in Dublin where I was taught the evil of the British as an empire - and now entered the streets of Belfast where British flags are painted everywhere and different slangs are used. Considering the history it seems to me that all of this British pride is propaganda to convince the people they want to be English. Its worked quite successfully. It appeared to be true based on the Northerners I spoke with. Scotland has an upcoming vote that may or may not separate them as an individual country from the UK. I thought, perhaps, if Scotland did that then Whales would be next, then eventually there would be one Ireland again. When I asked locals' opinions about my notion, they told me it will never happen. Too many people have died in making Ireland the way it is now. Northerners are proud to be British. For some reason that disappointed me. Why not be proud to be Irish?

My experience in the North was not as warm with locals as it had been in Ireland, there was a greater disconnect between people it seemed. The Guinness was still equally fantastic.

I stayed with a lovely Polish girl who had been living in N. Ireland for 3 years - she was warm amd generous to me. When I asked her about history, politics, and culture, she explained to me how easy it is for aliens and immigrants to come and get full welfare support from the government, and never contribute anything in return. In the states you have to be a citizen or resident to receive money from the government. My host, being a hard worker, spoke of racism against immigrants. Recently, a N. Ireland government representative had stated publicly that the reason no one was finding work was because the Polish immigrants were coming in and taking the jobs (that may be true due to better education, work ethic, and lower pay expectations, but why stir up racism?) My wonderful tiny host told me that since those remarks were made there had been riots and violence against Polish immigrants and it had been unsafe only a month before I arrived. Don't even get me started on the violence and hatred surrounding Protestant versus Catholic in the region - its real and ever-present. It seems that the few flaws of resilient people is foolhardiness and a hot temperament. I suppose that N. Ireland is a product of what happens when you crossbreed resilient people with the ones who made them resilient.

In Belfast I found a way to escape the propaganda and non-Irish Irish traditions. I took a bus into the suburbs and went for a hike at the Cavehill cliffs behind the Belfast Castle. The Cliffs here were a similar experience to the Cliffs of Moher, so I wont go into too much detail except for that I did it alone on a footpath, smelling flowers and frequently feeling the presence of my loved ones over my shoulder. They told me I was loved, and never to quit. Never quit when you know in your heart that it would be a forfeit, not a defeat. I climbed, I saw, I did it with love.

After Ireland I was meant to be in Scotland. Unfortunately plans were cancelled. So we just go with it :-) This morning I met a Morman missionary couple on a walkabout of S. Kensington Gardens during my first morning in London. Just as God had sent me Carter to make me brave, and Stephanie to make me heedful, so too the missionaries were sent to me to remind me of what I believe in. Empathy. I have never thought of anyone as evil. I have always seen those who behave in anger or hatred as victims of trauma, circumstance, their own minds, etc. Victims in a sense that, he/she may be a predator now, but something made them this way, and something can unmake them this way. I think the undoing is through love, and empathy. That's why I'm in social work. After hearing me give my shpeal about how all you need is love, the missionary asked, "what will your life be like in 5 years?" I can't answer that. "Okay two years?" Nope. "Tomorrow?" I don't know... I think right now I am trying to focus on where my feet are, then I can walk as if my feet are kissing the ground - Someone famous said that, not me. The missionary seemed to regard me as lost rather than found or finding. I don't believe I am either, I believe that I am like an Irish pub - I simply am.

Imagine though, that you could be so aware of yourself that you can recognize every breath, every step, every hand motion. And let every breath breathe love into the life around you, and let every step kiss the ground in gratitude, and let every motion create openness and trust - that your eyes are not only the window to your soul, but the souls of others as well through empathy.  I think that what Christians are really saying when they pray, let everything that breathes praise the Lord. I think I'd like to start with my breath and not to praise through praise but to praise through love.

I think I'm learning that travel can bring growth both in solitude and otherwise. I say this because, in between my solace, every single interaction has notably been specifically for me - designed to remind me of something I already knew, or learn something that will make me better. To challenge is to always grow. The challenge is to focus on where my feet are without being afraid to move, without needing to look where I stand. I tell myself, let go of your hold on life, read the signs and let the universe show you the way. The signs and messages are there, its no coincidence. Its meant for you, me, or them - we just have to accept it as ours and use it to grow. The universe is a tool.

Cheers