Christmas

There is something particularly unique for me about being an expat during Christmas. Maybe it is because Christmas is such a major and distinct part of American culture, that there's nothing quite like Christmas to really drive the point home that we're not in fucking Kansas anymore. Or Ohio. Lot's of corn either way, so really what's the difference.

In a lot of ways, this is the most Christmasy I've ever felt, perhaps in an effort to compensate for the lack of what I'm used to having rammed down my throat. Now don't get me wrong, Christmas is definitely a thing here in Korea. There's signs of Christmas all over. Christmas music drifts out of the storefronts as you walk down the street, there's a modest amount of decorations to be seen, and there's a couple public Christmas trees here and there. We decorated the school, and had a Christmas party for the kids, complete with one of the teachers dressing up as Santa and handing out presents that the parents had brought in for them.

But it is definitively not the Christmas that I am used too. Everything was open both last night and today. There was no obvious difference in the hustle and bustle of the city in any way. And actually, that turned out to be my least favorite part of Christmas in Korea. It's funny, because in past years I've complained about how boring Christmas is, because there's nothing to do, and I have no one to celebrate it with. But also, everything is just so quiet, and that's such a unique thing, that I kind of missed it today. It just didn't feel like Christmas with people...you know...doing stuff.

On the other hand, Christmas in Korea is infinitely more secular. It's doesn't in any way have the feel or vibe of a deeply religious holiday. I find this interesting, because I don't believe that Christmas is a holiday acknowledged or endorsed by the government in any official capacity here, whereas is is in the US, though there is obviously a mostly universal unofficial recognition of it here. Also, I find the secularist Korean Christmas incredibly ironic, because Korea is much more uniformly Christian that the USA. I mean seriously, except for the bud-hist monks that actually live at the temples (which seem to exist mostly to give people a unique vacation option) the entire country is Christian. I'm guessing somewhere in the range of 95% of Koreans would identify themselves as such, though this is just a guess and based off of absolutely no actual statistical information.

But you don't get the vibe of it being a religious holiday at all. There aren't any religious decorations (read: no manger scenes outside churches. Though to be fair, where would they put them?). There isn't a mass flight to churches on Christmas Eve for Midnight Mass (I'm not even sure churches had a midnight mass). And I don't think any more people attended church today than normally do on Sunday. And it's not that there aren't any religious nut-jobs here. There's a fringe group that actually seems to believe that the second coming of Christ happened about 40 years ago. It was in Korea of course. Jesus #2 is Korean. I found that funny. But still, most people seem to have a very relaxed view of the holiday.

All and all it seems to me that Koreans have accepted Christmas for what it is, for what we so desperately want to deny it as in the US: nothing more than an excuse to exchange gifts and time with loved ones. And really, I think that's totally appropriate. That's what the winter holiday has been about for a significant part of recorded history, regardless of what anybody wanted to call it. Family and presents. And I think a gift giving holiday is good. It doesn't have to be a major retail extravaganza as it has become in the states in the past few decades. I don't think you have to get big elaborate expensive gifts, or feel pressured to get something for every single person you know. But it's nice to have an excuse to buy, or make, a little something for those who are important to you. You know, as a way to let them know that they are important to you. That pretty much seems to be how Koreans celebrate Christmas, and I totally support that.

So being in Korea has changed my feelings on Christmas. I appreciate the secular aspects of it much more now that the religious aspects aren't being forced upon me. I also more greatly appreciate the aspect of having an excuse to spend time with friends and family now that, you know, I can't. I missed you all much more than usual today. Really, I'm surprised by how much I missed the Christmas that I am used to. I found myself wishing everyone last night a Merry Christmas, which is not a thing I've ever really made a point of doing before. But like I said, with all the silly religion removed, I guess I've realized the value in having a winter time family/friends based holiday, whatever the hell you want to call it.

So Merry Christmas to All.
     -Mongoose

The Simple Life

Hmmm. Life. What an interesting concept. Not the concept of life as a miracle, or a statistical improbability. Not the spiritual or philosophical question of "What is Life?" or "What does it mean to be alive?". Not even the question of how to define life, or determine what is considered to be alive. Life as in the simple process of living, and doing, you know, life things.

I mean, what are we really supposed to do with this Life thing anyway? Is there a proper way to spend it? Is there some sort of goal, or thing to be accomplished? Can you really fail at life? Or is it really just opened ended, like the most realistic sandbox video game EVER!!!...? Certainly some people feel happy and satisfied with their lives, and some people don't. Is that the whole point? To be happy and satisfied? And if so, why are some people happy and satisfied and others are not? Is it because of any tangible or definable detail in their lives? Is it because of the things they have, or things they do, or the people they spend time with? Is there a right way to spend time and a wrong way to spend time?

When I lived in Cleveland, I was not consistently happy or satisfied. I had a job that I mostly enjoyed, lived in a beautiful house with my best friend, and had a large circle of very close friends. Yet, on a day to day basis, I was not happy. Certainly I had a lot of fun. There were parties, and get togethers, and camping events that I looked forward to and loved. But in between all of those, there was just a bunch of....boring life things. Paying bills, and cooking food, cleaning all of the things, going to the store to buy necessary stuff, running errands in general. And these necessary tasks never went away! There was no sense of completion, because they needed to be done again and again, week after week, month after month. I felt like I was drowning in an endless sea of mundane tasks. These things weren't fun, they weren't exciting, but they filled the majority of my time day to day, during the in between times when I was waiting for the next fun thing. And so since most of the time I had to do stuff that I didn't really want to do, and I only got to spend a little bit of time doing the things I did really wanted to do, I found that it was difficult to feel a real sense of satisfaction.

Of course, these repetitive, mundane tasks are, in fact, life. They comprise the foundation of existing as an adult in this world. Everyone has them. No one gets out of it. So, realizing this, I made a decision. I decided that upon moving to Korea, I would change my perspective, and start learning to enjoy just living. I was determined to live without looking ahead, without a goal, without simply waiting around for the next party, the next time I got to have fun. I wanted to simply find happiness and satisfaction in my day to day mundane life.

Well, that didn't happen. I came here, and at first EVERYTHING was exciting, and nothing was mundane, and I was scared and elated, and emotionally charged pretty much ALL the time, and of course I loved every minute of it. But then that went away, the culture shock eased, I started to get used to it, and those pesky little mundane bits of existence slowly crept their way back into...you know...life. But the first few weeks had been so intense, that I wasn't even used to them anymore. They showed up almost like a surprise. Like an annoying friend that you didn't invite to the party, but then they show up anyway, and you're like, "God damn it, not you again!"

And so for the first couple months of being here, I fell back into the pattern of just trying to get through my mundane week full of necessary tasks, just trying to survive until the weekend when I could have fun again.

And then I got fired. And then I was homeless. And stuff was crazy. And then I went to India.

And something happened in India. You see, at the Ashram there really wasn't any fun to be had. It was peaceful, and relaxing, but certainly not "fun". There wasn't anything to occupy my time except mundane tasks. In fact, there weren't even really enough of those to fill the vast emptiness of time I had. There were no computers or video games to tick away the empty hours with. No one to party or drink with. There was just meditating, eating, and....and not a whole lot. For the first week it was actually almost maddeningly boring. But I started finding things to do. I started exercising every day. I volunteered in the kitchen doing dishes. I went to the library and read a lot. And I found myself starting to feel peaceful in my lack of excitement. I found myself starting to enjoy the mundanes of each day. I was happy while I was doing dishes. I was happy while I was showering, and doing my laundry. I was free from having to worry about what was going to be happening later, or next weekend. There was nothing in the future to think about, there was only the present moment.

And so I reconnected with my desire to simply enjoy living, and in fact found the mental space that would allow me to do so. I brought it back with me to Korea.

So now I've been at the new job for three weeks, moved in and settled at my new house for two weeks, and finally, for the first time, I find myself enjoying living. I work quite a lot, but it's satisfying, enjoyable work. And when I get off work, I go and exercise. And then I go to the grocery store and buy food to cook dinner with. And then I go home and I cook dinner. And then I clean my room, and prepare materials for class the next day, and then I go to sleep. I repeat this Monday through Thursday. And I've come to find this routine, mundane way of life extremely satisfying and fulfilling. There's nothing to worry about and no expectations. There's no goal to be accomplished or worked towards. There's simply life, and being alive, and doing necessary life things, and for some reason I'm enjoying it like never before. It's peaceful.

I live in a much quieter area of the city than I did before. It doesn't really feel that much like a city. It's a quiet, more residential area. I live in a divided house instead of a 23 story apartment building. There's one little corner bar and no restaurants in the blocks surrounding my new place, instead of literally more of both than I could have ever counted in the neighborhood I lived in before. School is within walking distance, so I don't take the subway except on the weekends. At first I was a little sad about it, because I did really enjoy the high energy dynamics of my previous location. But it's growing on me quite a bit.

I also work quite a bit more than I did before, around 10 hours a day. But I enjoy the work considerably more. I have more freedom and creativity with my lessons than I did before. I'm given very little in the way of materials, often only a single page in one of the books with a picture of two people having a short and basic conversation. "What will you do after school today?" "I will go shopping with my mother. What about you?" "I will play soccer with my friend." And then I have to teach a 40 minute lesson based off of that.

One day the lesson covered language used in a store. "Where are the....How much is the....I'll take three....". So I went in with a stack of fake money and a jar of jelly beans. After going over the language, I gave each student $20, and I sat down at a desk with the jelly beans. Each student took a turn coming up to me and asking, "Do you have any jelly beans? How much are they? I'd like (however many they could buy for $20)". It was really funny too, because I kept changing the price. I'd sell the jelly beans for $2 a piece to one student, and then for $10 a piece to the next. Then I helped them figure out that if I wasn't giving them a good price, they could try and buy some of the jelly beans that I had given another kid for cheap. It was great fun.

Also, we do fun things, and every day is not the same. One day we went on a field trip, which was awesome. I feel like such a responsible adult, taking kindergartners on a bus and telling them to fasten their seat belt. It's weird, and creepy, but surprisingly satisfying. We also do performances. For example, I'm teaching my class the song "Santa Baby" for the Christmas party on Friday. I even made up a little dance for them to do. It's hilarious. And I wrote a little play for them to do for their graduation performances at the end of February. I'll start teaching that to them in January. And the kids are so much fun too. Sometimes I feel less like a teacher and more like a much older brother. Luckily I had a good example in that department. Part of it is that there's no taboo about being physically playful and/or affectionate with your students in Korea. The girls love to give me hugs and they try to sit on my lap sometimes, while the boys love to horse around and play fight. I picked up one of the boys the other day, turned him upside down, and threatened to put him in the trash can. He seemed to love that. God, I'm becoming so good with children it's almost sickening.

So it seems I've figured out how to enjoy just living, more or less. I feel like an adult. I feel all responsible and stuff. What's happening to me?

India, Psilosophy, and Spirituality

I want to take a moment to say, before I jump into this next post, that I am overwhelmed by the positive reactions I have received to this blog. When I started this blog when I first left for Korea, I thought of it more as a personal exercise in regular writing, as well as something of a public diary to help me keep a record of my experiences. I thought maybe there would be about a dozen people, if I was lucky, that would read it on occasion.

Yet it's become clear to me that actually quite a few people are reading my blog fairly regularly. According to the statistics tracking page, around 50 people view the page of each new post within a week after I publish it. Of course, 50 regular readers may not sound like a lot, not when compared to professional writers who's blogs have subscribers in the hundreds, and page viewers in the thousands. But I'm not discussing world events, and social trends, and things that everyone cares about. I'm just rambling about my life. And to think that there's somewhere in the range of 50 people that miss me, and who care enough about what I'm doing to sit down and patiently scroll through my long rambling posts about nothing of significance....well it's rather heartwarming.

And the responses I've gotten from a number of you, both publicly and privately, only serve to support this feeling. In the month since my post about the insanity of my arrival in India, I've received an incredible amount or reactions from people eager to share their feelings of amazement, concern, amusement, and of course love. And a I continue to be surprised myself every time someone asks me "When is the next blog post? We're waiting for the next blog post!". The apparent reality that not only are people reading these posts, but that they are in fact looking forward to them is one that I admittedly fail to entirely understand, albeit remain profoundly appreciative of.

And most incredible of all, is what writing this blog has become to me personally. It's become something of a lifeline that connects me to all of you, to my life back home. Without it, I think I would feel completely disconnected. But when I sit down to type a post, for an hour or so I completely forget that I'm even in Korea. Suddenly I am simultaneously relaxing in a hammock at Pennsic, having a beer with Derek and Tim, eating dinner with my parents, and sharing amazing stories with all of the many people who I love so dearly. I'm reminded just how many close friends I have, a number that astounds me truly.

Additionally, I've found that writing about my experiences helps give me a greater appreciation of them. It's funny, but being an expat, being on the other side of the world, quickly loses the glimmer that you imagine it must have. It quickly turns into...well, life. It becomes mundane, the status quo, and it's easy to forget that you're actually doing anything extraordinary. But when I write for an audience that still lives the life I left, I manage to gain a third person perspective on the things that I myself am doing. I find myself rereading a post and saying to myself, "Wow, it didn't seem that exciting when it was happening, but I guess I'm not exaggerating." (The exception to this would be my arrival in India, which really DID feel that incredible when it was happening.)

So yea, blogging has been good for me, and I am extraordinarily appreciative of the support I am receiving in regards to it. I am now no longer homeless, no longer jobless, and as I settle back down into a bit of a routine, I intend to start posting with a degree of regularity again. My goal, as before, is one post every Sunday.

So, when last we left our hero (that would be me), he (that is, I) had finally made it to Chennai, India, enduring and overcoming countless setbacks in the process. (Didn't I use this type of intro once before?)

India was my third visited country going overseas from North America. Israel was the first, and then of course Korea. Israel and Korea are both considered "developed" countries by whatever international standards seem to matter. India, however is not. It is usually labeled as "developing" because of the growth that it is experiencing. But this term, I think, misrepresents the truth of the situation. A vast portion of the Indian population is incredibly impoverished. I was not prepared for some of the things I saw, the way I observed people going about their life, the conditions that they inhabit. It was both fascinating, and depressing. It's not just that India doesn't yet have the facilities and physical infrastructure that we are used to in so called "developed" countries. It's that they simply don't have a system of organization to handle things we consider basic, such as trash collection.

This picture was taken on the side of the road. It is one of many such locations where people seem to just dumb garbage randomly. Emaciated dogs would pick through it looking for something edible. In the month that I was there, none of the half a dozen spots like this within a 5 minute walk from the ashram showed any signs of an attempt at garbage collection. Speaking of emaciated dogs....

But truthfully, this isn't surprising when there are people in the society who are so poor that they live out of grass huts that they managed to build in the midst of their more fortunate neighbors:

I certainly don't want to give the impression that my experience was entirely negative. These were just a few of the more shocking images that I saw on this trip. These are a few pictures that give the clearest indication of just how stark the difference is between an undeveloped country like India and life as we know it.

The Ashram, on the other hand, was absolutely gorgeous. Breathtaking even.

In fact there was something distinctly Pennsic like  to staying at the ashram. Well, a Pennsic without booz or cigarettes, without bonfires, drums, or dancing, where you wake up at 5:00 AM and go to bed at 9:30 PM... Ok so I realize that doesn't sound anything like Pennsic, and admittedly a large part of it had to to with the weather. It was 80 degrees and sunny for the majority of my time there, and when there were thunderstorms is was the warm kind of rain that makes you want to run around getting soaking wet stomping barefoot in puddles (which I did at every opportunity). But it was more than the weather, it was the communal aspect of things. It was the way everybody pitched in, either cooking, or washing dishes, or gardening, or making tools. It was the way walking around people would smile at each other, even if they hadn't been introduced. It was the way that if you were sitting by yourself, people would come up and talk to you, and try and get to know you. These were the things that reminded me of Pennsic (along with the distinctly August like weather), and in fact helped to give me perspective on what the most important aspects of Pennsic (and the life I would like to lead) actually are.

But, after a few days it became apparent...there was something missing too, something that made it distinctly not Pennsic. And at first it wasn't altogether apparent what exactly that was, though it soon became clear. There was something not quite right with the people. This is hard to describe, because as mentioned above, it was more or less a social quality that made it Pennsic like in the first place. But despite the communal aspect, and the overwhelming friendliness, the people, how shall I put this, were less....substantive. There was a shallowness that is altogether nothing like what we think of as shallowness. There was an emptiness of personality that was in stark contrast to the fullness of the life they led. They were all just so...spiritual.

And now we came to one of the greatest conundrums that I face in my rather spiritual life. I don't like spiritual people, or at the least I don't like people who have dedicated themselves to spirituality. Which is funny, because in many ways I have had, for the majority of my life, the single continuous focus of spiritual understanding. I have researched, studied, and participated in almost every major spiritual system, and a good number of the minor ones. I can hold my own in a debate (and have done so) with PhD's of both Philosophy and Theology. But perhaps a major reason for my having bounced around so much is that any system I get involved in, I quickly discover that I just don't really fit in with the people associated with it.

And whats even more extraordinary is that I have found that the very dedicated participants of pretty much every system are difficult for me to relate to in the exact same way! Like I said, it's a shallowness, but it's not a shallowness of them being obsessed with clothes or popularity, or whatever we usually think of as shallow. It's quite the opposite, in that their shallowness is derived from a complete lack of interest in anything material whatsoever. It's simply a lack of depth. The entirety of their existence revolves around The System and the tenants ascribed by it. They relinquish personal discretion, putting everything to the test of what someone else says they should judge things by. And this is infinitely frustrating for me, because it's not at all who I am, and yet I am undeniably spiritual, and so where does that leave me exactly?

In fact, my spirituality is based around the the concept that my own personal discretion is the most sacred thing available to me. Essentially, I am actually Agnostic. Agnosticism being the philosophical tenant not that "I do not know", as it is commonly interpreted, but that "I can not know."  This is echoed in the primary thesis of the philosophy of Descartes who basically said that the only thing you could ever know is that you are. This I am certain to be true. However, given that you can not actually know anything else, all you are able to do is believe. And belief is essential to life. Even if we can not know, we can still believe, and all of us choose to do so even when we mistake that belief for knowledge. Given that, I recognize that all of my spiritual thoughts are nothing more than beliefs that can never be known. Still, I chose to believe them, because after all, what other choice do I have? But I have come to hold these beliefs through the exercise of my own personal discretion. I only believe what I believe because I have weighed my beliefs against other potential beliefs and made a decision that I myself have found to be the most logical with regards to my own personal experience and understanding. This is the most that anybody can ever do. And I have an great deal of difficulty  relating to people who have sacrificed their own discretion in order to base their beliefs on the discretion of another.

I find that the majority of my friends consider themselves to be either Pagan or Atheist. At a glance these seem like very oppositional philosophies, but when thought of in terms of the encouragement of personal discretion, they are found to be remarkably similar creeds. Both are modern movements presented in juxtaposition to the (predominantly Christian) religious view of sacrificing intellectual independence to an exterior source of "knowledge". Modern Paganism is an incredibly open ended spirituality that essentially allows the participant to custom tailor their practice in whatever way they see fit, while Atheism is a philosophy that basically says, "Fuck you, I'm not gonna believe anything that you can't show me." I personally really appreciate the self-empowerment expressed by both of these philosophies, and this is why I predominantly associate with adherents to these ways of thought. Yet, with regards to Atheism I personally believe that there are aspects to the universe that can not be shown but only experienced, and with regards to to Paganism I find that more than anything it has mostly developed into a social counter-culture, and does not present the opportunity for any significant spiritual understanding. So where does that leave me? I'm a Spiritual Agnostic with mostly Pagan and Atheist friends. Yea....I'm not really sure what to make of that either.

All the same, the meditation practice that I learned and practiced while at the ashram is an incredibly valid one. To say that I can not relate entirely to the aspirants, or to say that I can not dedicate myself wholeheartedly to the system, is not to say that I gained nothing at all from my time there. In fact, I can now say with a higher degree of confidence then ever before, that I can meditate. I now know exactly what this means, and what it can do. I discovered realms of consciousness within realms of consciousness that are immensely difficult to describe with words. I obtained states of inner peace that I have never known before. So yes, I certainly think there is something to this method of meditation. I intend to incorporate it, in some respect, into my life from here on. But I can not say that I am a dedicant to this particular system. I can not say that I give myself and my discretion over to those who claim to be the masters of reality. I can not immerse myself in the social community of those that eat and breath this style of mediation. It just doesn't feel right. And as I said, "do what feels right" is the most sacred tenant that I follow.

So fast forward a couple of weeks. New home, new job, and to some degree, new perspective. I finally feel like I'm becoming accustomed to life here. When I came to Korea, part of the goal was to get away from the habit of living for the next event, waiting for the next party, or the next time I could have fun. I wanted to live a life where I could simply enjoy living, where the mundane aspects of life were something to be appreciated. I never managed to find that state of mind with my previous job, or in my previous living location. But this neighborhood is peaceful instead of dynamic, and this job is fulfilling instead of monotonous. And one week into it, I find that I can be happy simply doing what needs to be done. Maybe the meditations helps a bit too.

More details on the new life next week though. Also I plan to post a couple photo albums, either on here or on facebook, in the days ahead. Until then, much love as always.

        -Mongoose