Triggers. Identity. Freedom?

It’s late 2019 and I’m writing this in Thailand, a country where I don’t know the language and have only the vaguest knowledge of the customs. While I was here once before, it seems more difficult this time to actually get anywhere. The last time I was here I stayed with extended family members who would talk to taxi drivers for me. But on this trip, these same people are letting me experiment with what it might be like to live here. I have a small, family owned condo far (or it seems far) from any public transportation. The first time I tried to go somewhere the taxi dropped me off at a major bus station instead of the Sky Train that was my destination. The first cab I tried to hail to take me back home wouldn’t take me even though I showed him the address written out in Thai.

However I’m not still wandering the streets of Bangkok weeks later after that taxi driver’s refusal! The second taxi I hailed was happy to take me home. But in the process I completely panicked and decided 1) that my phone was dying and 2) that the driver was taking me to the wrong place. Neither of these things was true although I was convinced of it even when we turned into the driveway of the housing complex where I was staying.

During that venture into downtown Bangkok, I signed up for language lessons and was given a free lesson to get started. I can now say “I write.” And “I want to speak Thai.” But am I saying these phrases properly? Do I dare ask anyone around here for help with this?
What is going on? I like help! I wrote about it in “Ask for Support.”  Maybe I should read my own writing. In that post I make a distinction between help and support: “While we’re dealing with semantics, asking for help implies need. Support, for our purposes here, implies an addition to what one is already doing, something above and beyond the obvious.”

Oh, OK. Do I need help? No, I’m fine. I have my Thai phone and have signed up for the equivalent of an Uber service called Grab. I’ve almost figured out how to find locations where drivers can easily find me to pick me up to get home. I can walk from my condo to a mall that has restaurants, a grocery store, and place to buy an umbrella, water glasses, and a pitcher, which were the only things that seemed missing from “my” apartment. I have also learned that I make way too many assumptions. Somehow I expect people to know what I want, but the truth is that they’re waiting to be asked. People are glad when I do ask for whatever.

Somewhere along the way, who I am—the brave, independent person who loves to cook and entertain and talk to anyone about their dreams—has been placed in a space where she’s not allowed to cook (forbidden in the building where I’m living, really), doesn’t know anyone to invite, and who communicates with gestures and smiles. She often curls up in a ball and stays home playing games on her phone. Apparently she didn’t download the right proportion of trashy novels (okay – mystery stories) onto her phone for her usual bookworm diversions. (Yes, library friends, I can connect to “my” library via the internet and find more. But my excuse is that I’m dealing with very poor WiFi.)

Me, the person that some of you know pretty well, who is hopeless at cleaning and a klutz using scissors, now lives where floors need to be swept and ideally mopped every day. I actually brought a small pair of scissors so I could wrap presents. I, who have never effectively learned another language, am now studying Thai. Here, although my journey has had me become less involved with religion and politics, I have mainly met people though church and a political organization for Americans abroad.

So who am I? I just found a coffee shop where I can write on my computer. I still haven’t created a space at home where I can write easily. And I’ve met multiple people (well, six) who are concerned about the process of being present. Through that connection I received an invitation to join a writing group. But I’m guessing that these activities aren’t part of a true identity either. There is a me beyond the one who likes coffee shops for writing and enjoys talking about “just being.”

Somewhere beyond this list of would be busyness there is a calm where possibility is created. Unfortunately it is also a place a bit beyond words which is all I have here. It is an extreme manifestation of what I’ve written before in the process of being. Within this framework, along with the lesson of learning to ask for what I want more often, I’ve had major adventures! For example a day with elephants somehow grounded this feeling. Even more important have been the day-to-day things that just seem to happen. The neighbor, who knew what was going on only through my gestures, but took my phone and talked to my lost Grab driver. Getting an upgraded plane seat when I had paid the lowest possible fare. The people who, when they learned I’m not permanently living here in Bangkok, immediately said, “But you’re coming back, right?” and “Plane tickets can be changed.” Continue reading →