Over steaming bowls of savory Thai soup and spiced heaps of Som Tam (green papaya salad), I found myself for the first time of my teaching tenure being invited to supper with the Thai staff of my school. Truth be told, it was the farewell party of a much-loved Thai office worker who I had grown close to over the past year and I’m sure her insistence had much to do with my presence there. I was also informed by them later that I was invited on the basis of being known as one to enjoy hot food, so it pays to develop an appetite for the local cuisine I suppose.
Despite the obvious language barrier between myself and the rest of the farewell party, we had a fantastic time together. It was so refreshing to be able to interact with the Thai teachers on a level which is quite out of the question within the professional confines of teaching. They let down their guard towards me in a way I had never previously experienced , laughing about our school’s idiosyncracies and colorful characters (and I’m not necessarily referring to students), and ofcourse the customary who-likes-who conversation which is universally interesting.
Although most aspects of my life are bidding well, I have undergone a peculiar array of emotions in the last two weeks. Usually it strikes as simply an overbearing sense of isolation and disconnectdness. For someone like myself who stays fairly emotionally consistent, it is unnerving how vividly this sense of “aloneness” can strike me.
Recently I have begun to recognize that I have struggled with these sensations soon after my father died of cancer during my senior year of highschool. Since then (and for many years preceding it) I’ve lived a life of provisioinal housing and impermanence. Although a part of me thrives on this as allows me to move freely, I’m convinced that a softer, silent part of me yearns for the stability of constancy. I feel as though finding the balance these two things is a tight-rope dance between two extremes: those who never breach their limitations, sticking to only without what they are familiar with, and those who are always flitting from one interest to the next, never enjoying permanence in life.
Sometimes I wonder if this is what my life will entail- countless transitions and changes of scenery in search for some level of peace of mind. May journey have fewer turns, mine is beginning to exhaust me.
Chris, did you actually mean “Som Tam” (the green papaya salad)?
Anyway, your remark on your journey reminds me of one guy who didn’t have a roof to cover his head nor a pillow to rest his head at night. His whole life was always about taking refuge, moving and traveling. He barely had enough time to settle down and enjoy that “stability of constancy”, as you described. But his life was always poured out for others. His sole string that enabled him to live such life like that was that He was doing the work His Father sent Him to do.
Don’t be discouraged.