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
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
No comments:
Post a Comment