Last night I dreamt that the world was literally crumbling beneath my feet.
An earthquake or some dreamlike version of the ground-explosions from the movie 'Tremors' from 1990 (starring Kevin Bacon, remember??) was taking place. The ground was exploding up from some force from below, raking its way up from underneath the earth, flinging rocks and bricks like missiles into the air, forming big hill-bursts that would then collapse and fall far far below.
I saw these explosions coming from far away, perhaps first in the form of a massive tsunami-like wave, which then turned into these rock-hill explosions (as happens in dreams) moving incredibly fast towards us. I was standing on a hilltop, and from my vantage point I began shouting to my friends "RUN!!! RUN!!! Get as low as you can!!!" The logic here was that the farther you had to fall, the greater likelihood of being crushed and dying. If we could stay low and maybe stay on one slab of cement, perhaps we could maintain footing (dream-logic only).
I ran and ran downhill but I felt myself lose footing and began to fall, trying to do whatever I could to stay upright. Despite my efforts, I fell to the ground out of control, but landed painlessly (as it was a dream) to what was understood by my subconscious to be my demise. I woke with my heart pounding in my dorm-room bed at the Mixay Guesthouse in Vientiane, Laos in the middle of the night, happy to still be alive, but filled with anxiety.
I share this dream with you because to me, it is highly symbolic of what this experience of travel on the other side of the world has been like for me, interwoven of course, with so many wonderful and amazing and beautiful sights, experiences, and people throughout. There has also, however, been an element of fear of the unknown, anxiety about how and where to go, as well as loneliness and homesickness. Sometimes when I think about where I am and how far away from home I am and the country that is familiar and safe to me, it scares me quite a bit. Not speaking the language, not always feeling welcome, not being understood, and not knowing where I am going or how to get where I want to go, getting lost, and what once felt like 'simple things' health-wise are difficult to find. While I have traveled with friends part of the time, and always meet new great people along the way, big picture- I am traveling alone, which is a central reason for what is bringing these feelings about. Everything is completely up to me, and it is always unknown and uncertain who I will meet next and when.
It is not just these technical questions- it also has brought about the good 'ol existential questions of 'Who am I? Where am I? Where do I belong in this world? What is my goal/intention here and anywhere and in life? What are my beliefs?' which, are questions I was wrestling with before my trip, but, being so far from home and anything familiar, as well as a new job as an elementary school teacher (5th grade) waiting for me upon my return, I still just don't know what I am doing, and feel like I am stumbling blindly through life at least half of the time. This might sound terrible to some, but to be perfectly honest, on my spiritual path as a meditator and Buddhist, I know that it is a good sign, because it means that I am allowing myself to feel the groundlessness of being. With all of this unsureness also comes great joy, bliss, certainty and confidence as well. It is difficult to explain, but, it is definitely a good thing. Being 'comfortable with being uncomfortable'- or, well, willing at least. :)
When asked if I liked Vietnam by a woman-traveler the other day, I described my experience to her by saying this: that I had to break into a million pieces and then be put back together again before I could come to love and enjoy this country, as it shattered my world and how I had once perceived it. After I stopped resisting and gave in to true vulnerability, I fell in love with Vietnam, its beautiful land, and its people.
Also, after five weeks in Vietnam, I had found a new place of comfort and ease, knowing how to get places, a hotel where I knew people, Swedish friends and otherwise, and was familiar with the culture; this once unknown place was now my familiar safety ground. Going to Laos was exciting, but I realized on the various bus rides- from Vietnam to Laos, then Vientiane to Luang Probang in Laos- that I had no idea where I was going, what I wanted to do, who I was going to meet, and how long I was going to stay. This can be experienced as a great blessing of unlimited choice and opportunity, but sometimes, especially when my body and mind get out of balance (lack of sleep, lack of exercise, weird and inconsistent food, lacking yoga and meditation practice, long bus rides etc...) it becomes a great source of anxiety, and I found myself wanting to call the trip off and come back home.
I spent the next day in Vientiane trying to 'make the most of it' and 'see as much as possible' but found myself getting almost nowhere on the bicycle I had just rented, after asking around about various options and bus times to get to Luang Probang. I literally made it as far as one-block from my hotel to the Mekong, and after riding back and forth, trying to figure out where to go, what to do, what I felt like doing, and when I should leave Luang Probang, I finally gave up and found a nice private seat, sitting on and leaning against a set of massive cement steps by the Mekong River, and cried like a lost child with my face buried in my arms.
I knew that this long overdue release into tears was a good sign that I was actually making progress as a traveler and a human being. I was allowing myself to let go and stop resisting my feelings, and feel all of the fear and worry and vulnerability. It is easy to run from my feelings, and just keep 'going going going', and pretend like nothing bothers me, nothing effects me, like I can just be the most adventurous and worldly traveler who can roll with all of the punches- but, as a dear teacher of mine likes to say 'This too shall effect you."
From there, I realized that I was just extremely tired and exhausted, and needed to give up on the sightseeing for a day, and take advantage of this quiet city and just RELAX. I went to my dorm room and made a cup of peppermint tea (tea bags which I had just found for the first time since leaving the U.S. two months ago! So happy!). I also determined that I would indeed leave the next morning by bus, 10 hours to Luang Probang, seated-bus only. My determination to relax in the room as well as a decision on leaving the next day was all it took for me to feel better. It was the mindset that made all of the difference.
When I got to my room, I met a girl from Sweden who had just arrived, and I invited her to join me and Shiho, the Japanese woman who was also sharing the room with us, to have dinner at the night market. I gave her all sorts of recommendations about Vietnam where she was going next, and a bit later the three of us ladies set off for the market, with bowls and cutlery borrowed from our hotel.
We shared about 5 different dishes for a total of about $3 each, and had a great meal sitting on a wall near the amusement park section of the market. Then we revisited our youth by taking a ride on a really cool ferris-wheel-like ride. We came back to the hotel, had a cup of tea in the lobby, and went to bed. I felt happy again, having found new female friends, a more peaceful inner world now that I had faced it more truthfully, and a bus ticket for the 7am bus the next morning.
: )
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