Winds of Change

The gentle breeze is so light that I stop to see if it is truly the wind, gentle as a sigh, or is it my imagination wishing for any relief from the oppressive heat, playing tricks on me. Laying here on the wooden slatted lounge by the pool I am content that I chose to brave the hill on the way to the pool, even though I’m not feeling very well. I’m in search of a respite from the stuffiness I feel in the flat today. I rested in the air conditioning in my room, but fear that I will just become as much a prisoner to the refuge of this bedroom as my room at home. No. Not wanting to lose the day, I head to the pool where after braving the hill I must walk on the way, I’ll find relief in the cool still water.

Like a sapling in the early spring, I am swaying under the winds of all the changes – outward and inward – happening to me here. Today as I pause to just feel the breeze, it’s subtle relief is almost intoxicating. I allow my mind to wander freely, to ruminate and relish all that’s been blowing my way. I did come here with an idea of what I would want to see and do in order to have no regrets, come time to leave, of an opportunity squandered. Yet so much more has been given to me. Like a gossamer gust, barely sensed, yet with the impact of a monsoon, this place and the people I’ve met have changed me deeply forever.

People come and go in our lives. How does it go, some for a moment and some to stay? I have been fortunate to have a somewhat interesting life. I’ve had the privilege of knowing all types of people from diverse cultures and walks of life.  Still with all my experiences, I was underneath it all, the super shy little girl who was believed to be handicapped, because I didn’t talk much, until I read a book to my mother at 3. It was the day I was moving into my dorm as a freshman at Washington University in St Louis that I consciously decided I could change and and not be quite so shy and introverted. A really handsome boy asked if he could help me and instead of saying no, thank you very much, I accepted his help. Tom became one of my good friends in the dorm. In spite of my outward chatty persona, underneath I was always self-conscious and second guessing myself.

Some magic is happening to me with this introspective time I’m spending in this land far from home. I’m starting to be okay with who I am flaws and all. I’m comfortable sitting at the pool in a bikini I have no business wearing, but I’m a child of the sun worshipping generation and need the least amount of ‘tan lines’ as possible. (I didn’t say that I’m not vain!) I feel comfortable with the people. I’ve noticed that I can have casual ‘pool conversation’ and not worry for the next two hours how stupid I must have sounded!

In another social situation at a dinner in a Kampung (village) the other night (the name of which I’m ashamed to say I’ve already forgotten) I paused to survey the group sitting, and others milling about. The smiles, the laughter, the food, and yes the booze, the karaoke...all ingredients to an extraordinary evening. The main ingredient was the company. We had no common language except for some broken English and my Malaysian friend who acted as interpreter, trying to keep up with all the conversations coming my way. Although some of the guests spoke a few words in English, being the only westerner in the whole kampung, I needed to get on with it using the very few words I know in Bahasa Malayu. I was completely immersed and I loved it! I dove in with my Italian hands flying, in gestures that interpreted sufficiently enough, to be a part of the festivities. When all else fails, let the Italian hands fly! Remarkably, I not only got on, but I felt more comfortable in this crowd than I do in some of people I know, and who speak my language. Maybe language isn’t always just verbal. Maybe it’s that spirit thing again. Maybe you want to call it a vibe. Whatever it is, it seems that it’s a superior form of communication that’s less prone to misinterpretation. And the Italian hand’s help too.

There’s been no situation here that’s shaken me (except when I first started calling for a cab. I had no idea what the dispatchers were saying). I even chat comfortably with the cabbies and have collected some cell numbers so I can call directly and not deal with the dispatcher. Some people I’ve met entered my life like a gale force and some like a breeze touching me gently enough to stir my soul. Corny, I know, but oh so true.

M.S.: A Blessing or a Curse?

Would I have set out, first mentally, then physically on this exploration that is more of an inward journey than one of miles and sightseeing, if I didn’t suffer from M.S.? If this dastardly disease, Multiple Sclerosis, has forced me out of the daily rat race and lead me to my own personal quest to seek–instead of money, status and material advancement–my own balance, then it is a blessing not a curse. I was angry for so long about all that I was missing and something finally clicked. My focus and my energy has been switched away from thinking about illness, treatments, a gloomy future and all that I am missing, to the assets and blessings I have and the bright limitless future that lies ahead of me. I’m not being a Pollyanna, thinking that every moment will be ecstatic from here on out, but at least I have my eye on the road rolling out before me with twists and turns that hold surprises. If suffering from M.S. taught me to a find place where I can live a full and productive life in body, mind and spirit–like a strict teacher determined to teach an important lesson–then am I really suffering?

Yet, I am not in my real life here. I’m still doing the online banking, proofreading essays, and assuaging the small daily hurts of a little nine year old. I’m still a mom, even from here, nonetheless, I am not faced with the daily stressors of running a household and a family. I am well aware that I am on a retreat here. I don’t want to set myself up for a “post-retreat-crash”, which is what I call the blues one gets after attending a yoga/meditation/self-discovery retreat where there’s some attainment of enlightenment and inner peace. Re-entry into the real world abruptly challenges the newly earned insight until finally there’s a type of culture shock and then a crash leaving the poor enlightened one right where she started: same life, same problems. But I feel in my current situation, the geographical distance, the cultural differences and the space for me to breathe and think is leading me to the best place in the universe, myself! One is only as balanced in this world as one is balanced with herself.

I’ve been fortunate enough to explore religions and lifestyles here. With such a culturally diverse population, what better place is there to explore faiths than Malaysia. I’m not looking for a religion, even though I’m disillusioned with the Catholic church. But I am nurturing my Spirit. We Americans take our Spirit and spirituality lightly for the most part. These days the eastern religions and philosophies are fads in the west. Put a Buddha in your living room and you’re good. Go to a yoga class and you’re uber hip. I’m not talking about ‘Religion’. In my opinion, religions at their core are a cultural interpretation of the same quest or the same things in life–Peace, Love and Compassion. Spirituality, on the other hand, is a part of us. Fortunately, my neurologist, Dr. Sadiq believes in treating the whole patient, body, mind and spirit and not only sanctioned this trip, but heartily encouraged it. We’re all searching outside of ourselves for a panacea to our life’s ills. Where we should be looking is inside. I’m learning this more than ever. I’ve had some switches flip in my heart and mind and I feel my spirit healing. My body and it’s deficiencies are now a nuisance more than anything. I know there will be exacerbations that will challenge my spiritual awakening that is in it’s infancy, but I’ll face that challenge, hopefully with as much grace as possible. Now I see that Multiple Sclerosis, a tongue twister of a name, is not me. It’s not even a part of me. It’s just a bothersome challenge that teaches me not to get caught up in the banalities of life and reminds me to be grateful for who I am.