Today's Brilliance

I subscribe to a site called "Inspire Me Today". The emails I get often help me start my day with a sense of tranquility, grounding, confidence, and inspiration. Today's was particularly nice.

Of all the things you can make in life, remember you make a difference. ~ Noah benShea

If today were my last day on Earth and I could share 500 words of brilliance with the world, here are the important things I'd want to pass along to others...

Noah benShea's Ten Tips for Tough Times

1. Being broke is not the same as being broken,
losing money is not the same as being lost,
and finding your balance is not something you can do on a balance sheet.

2. Don't confuse having less with being less,
having more with being more,
or what you have with who you are.

3. Slow down.
What you're chasing may be trying to catch you.

4. Prayer is a path where there is none.

5. Put your faith and not your fears in charge.

6. God only gave you two arms.
If you're busy hugging the past you can't embrace the future.
Don't let the past kidnap your future.

7. This too shall pass.
Change is the only constant.
In order to take a breath you must release your breath.

8. Do what you can,
but never forget that letting go is very different from giving up.

9. Break the rules that are breaking you.
Tough times don't require you to be tough on yourself.
Find the courage to suffer happiness.

10. Remember, remember, remember...
Things don't have to be good for you to be great.

Lessons from Lisa Ling

A few days ago, my best friend and I reunited at my alma mater, the University of Southern California, to hear Lisa Ling speak at a Women's Student Assembly event. To meet her was a huge deal for the both of us, considering that during our two years of living together, we'd skipped out on a handful of Friday-nights-on-the-town to instead cozy up to one of Ling's captivating National Geographic documentaries. (my favorite was "China's Lost Girls")

[Me, Lisa Ling, my friend]

For those who don't know Lisa Ling, she may simply be "that Asian girl on TV". You might have seen her on The View or on National Geographic, or as a correspondent on The Oprah Winfrey Show. Most recently, her sister was detained in North Korea but was released after a string of diplomatic and humanitarian efforts that happened mainly as a result of Lisa's public outcries and celebrity weight.

For those who do know Lisa Ling, she is an Asian American broadcast journalist, and a hero to many who share her heritage. When I joined MySpace seven years ago as a sophomore in high school, for example, and was asked who my heroes were, I automatically wrote Lisa Ling. She, Connie Chung, Lucy Liu, and frankly, Mulan, were the only female Asian faces I saw in mainstream media, and for that, I was proud of her. I identified with her and aspired to be the eloquent, brave, intelligent person she seemed to be.

[Stunning! Lisa had an unconventional, chic, beautiful wedding in March 2010 at LA's Union Station.]

Born-and-raised in Sacramento, CA, Lisa is 1,000% American, but has faced many issues that I, as a minority, have faced both at home and abroad. We've faced ignorant comments and jabs that puncture the soul, such as when Ling made a controversial comment on a 9/11 special on The View and subsequently received hate letters that reprimanded, "What do you know? Go back to China". But despite the misunderstanding and hate that comes with the territory of being a minority, widely-known, investigative journalist, Lisa has continued to cover stories.

And this is why.

While Lisa has a huge fan-base of Asian Americans like myself, she quite apparently doesn't rest her identity on that blaring racial factor that sets her apart. She does what she does not to represent Asians in the media, but because she simply LOVES journalism. And I'm not talking about cuddly, puppy love; I'm talking passionate, put-me-on-the-front-lines (even if that means putting my life in danger), expose-the-truth love. (Watch some of her documentaries and you'll see what I'm talking about. From Colombia, to America's most dangerous prison, to China and beyond, Ling has "roughed it", and that's an understatement.) I cannot stress enough how I hung on her every word during that hour-long talk -- not because she is a graceful, intelligent speaker; not because she speaks in what seems like poetic prose, but because she spoke every single word with purpose, and instills exactly that into her followers -- purpose.

So, rather than applaud Lisa as one of the Asian American community's finest, I want to instead thank her for showing us that if you believe in something, or want something so badly, your dream can come true. In her case, unveiling stories about the world was her dream. It's so obvious that honest, true, raw journalism was something she wanted so badly for not just herself, but for others, and to this day, will fight for.

Lesson learned. If there are ambitions or dreams or goals that you really want, like really, REALLY want, you can will them to existence. As Lisa said and did, "You can just will them to existence".

[What is YOUR purpose?]
_______________________________________________

The public would not know about many pressing issues if Lisa weren't here to deem them of importance and choose to report on them. Here are some of my notes from her talk:

-Lisa and her crew have been safe, despite being in very dangerous situations, because she respects her interviewees. They are all people and all came from a mother. She gives respect to get it.
-As a mere sophomore at USC, she had to miss a Russian-based final because she...had to GO to Russia to report for Channel 1. Before she dropped out of school, she had already reported in Afghanistan.
-Sexual trafficking is a topic that is of dire importance to her, especially that which is occurring in the USA at this very minute. She seeks to unveil the misconceptions we have, and the truth that many politicians try to hide: that "prostitution" in the USA is actually the trafficking of women. Americans have distaste for prostitutes because we often think they are criminals without acknowledging that many of these girls run away from bad home lives, only to be preyed on by bad men, or pimps, a culture we revere, especially in hip hop. If girls are trafficked in from other countries, we help them. But if they are American girls, they're left to fend for themselves, and they're seen as dirty prostitutes.
-She recommends spending a day in juvenile court. Witness the frailty of seemingly tough girls who have been arrested for prostitution; realize that they are just little girls.
-Child marriage happens in 40 countries around the world. In Ethiopia, girls as young as 6-7 years old are married off to older men and are expected to conceive a male.
-She's struggled with faith after witnessing so many brutalities and injustices. But her husband sent her an email, with the subject asking God, "Why? Why would this be?" to which He retorted, "Now that you know, you can't pretend that you don't. Why would this be? I made you".
-Spend a year abroad. It makes you smarter, well-versed, marketable in the job force, and educated.

Lisa Ling is currently shooting for Oprah's OWN 2011 documentary series, set to launch in January 2011.

She is a spokesperson for iVolunteer.org and is active on social media (@lisaling).

It Goes Full Cycle: Final Days

This post was written on March 29, 2010 on a breezy evening in Koh Samet. I was savoring a scoop of chocolate ice cream as I reminisced on my time in SE Asia (journeys to Burma, Cambodia, and Vietnam will later be posted)...

The full moon sits in the dark, velvety blue sky like a perfectly illuminated bronze penny – a mint coin on museum display, so it seems. It's 6pm, and I face the perfect circle as I wade alone in the warm waters of Koh Samet – my favorite island in all of Thailand – as if engaged in a final goodbye conversation with a loved one – for it is, sad as I currently am to say, one of my last days in Thailand.

I don't even know if I'm saying anything coherent to the moon, but who cares? I'm here in Koh Samet by myself and want to talk to someone/thing that understands what I'm going through. But because the journeys we (“we” being foreign teachers, volunteers, expats, travelers, etc.) go through when living abroad are so wonderfully individualized, the only entity to which I feel safe unleashing my torrent of thoughts is one that won't talk back or question or sympathize with me, because that's not what I want right now. I just want to reflect without needing to make sense, and the simple moon, with its golden reflection silently shimmering on the black waters, seems to smile kindly at me and say, “gab away, Kristina.”

So I do. The combination of the jacuzzi-like water, pampering sand, Singha, perfect night air, and Jack Johnson playing in the background jolt me into reflection mode. I really can't help it. I open the flood gates and start with the thought that has plagued and amazed me most throughout these past few weeks: “How the heck did time fly by so fast?!” This leads me down a most wallowing path, during which feelings of last-minute desperation overwhelm me. I feel the need to do and try everything that I love about Thailand just one more time before I leave. My thoughts run something like this:

I must eat suki at MK one more time. I must eat my favorite coconut yogurt one more time. I should call Madam Chong and have a final lunch with her. Is Tina in town? Is Nancy in town? Where is Nate, Reuven? I really wish I had hung out with them more. I also wish Linnea were here with me, dang she's cool. We've had some good times, haven't we? And ugh, I should have ordered a Chang beer instead of wine tonight at dinner– my gosh, what was I thinking? I can get wine anywhere, but Chang? By the way, did I buy all the terribly cheap goods I need to buy, or do I need to go shopping yet again? And why, why, moon, doesn't America have street-side fruit vendors? I'm going to gain fruit fat from all the mango I'll need to consume in the next few days...

But then, in the midst of my most petty run-on babbles, I stop, and I look up to my most patient listener, which happens to be the calming answer to all my frantic and anxious worries, and I literally chuckle out loud.

The funny thing is that my departure from Thailand coincides with a full moon, which, as I've learned, is a big deal in Asia for both religious and social purposes (see: Full Moon party, which I happened to skip in order to spend time in solitude at Samet instead. But I digress.). “How wonderful it is,” I think to myself, “that the end of my Thailand experience can be symbolized by the mark of one of nature's finest cycles.”

I stop worrying, and I am at peace.

It goes like this: the moon will always be there, as will my opportunities to find and do the exciting things I have done in Thailand, God willing. As we all know, the moon goes through routine growth changes that inevitably lead it to be complete, full, and round – an exuberantly shining beacon in the middle of the expansive night sky. We can expect this to happen before it slips away and re-starts the cycle of rebirth to full growth, on repeat.

And I suppose that is what has happened to me, and to the thousands of other individuals who are courageous, and admittedly fortunate enough, to leave their known comforts at home and start afresh and sort-of alone, abroad. As long as we throw ourselves into our experiences with as open-minds as the blank, moonless sky at the beginning of the lunar cycle, then we'll leave with a full chapter written in our life's book, as well-rounded and enlivened as the full moon. And though our next “cycles” may be unknown, we can still move forth with a conviction that shines from within. Because we know we can. And that we should. And that we really have no choice in the matter, for the next cycle is coming whether we like it or not.

Waving goodbye with my 9th graders at Amnuayvidhya School on the last day of class

A Special Sunday

As I write this, it's Sunday in Thailand. A typical Sunday it'd be, most any other day, except today marks the beginning of the end of my teaching contract in Thailand, for I have one week left. Friends back at home have been asking me how I'm doing, and I'll answer honestly: I feel weird. I feel funky.

I haven't kept up with my blog as much as I'd have liked, mainly because I had, and still have, so many feelings, observations, and reflections to express. These emotions are so enormous that rather than tackle them head-on and journal about them, I've run away from them to avoid confronting my impending departure.

It sounds like I'm about to break up with someone.

//

Now, in the early hours on this Sunday, I will write candidly.

On leaving the classrooms: I feel glad for not having to face the deafening, wildly uncontrollable classes in the future. Though the students were often rowdy because my class was an intermission from having to sit for long school hours under the reign of strict Thai teachers, that is no justification for pretending to enjoy it. In the beginning, I used to be hard on myself and attribute their unwillingness to learn on my boringness as a teacher, but after speaking to many teachers, that surely is not the case. Really, these students sit for hours and many Thai teachers are like dictators in the classroom. For me to waltz in with games to play, a sing-song voice, and a huge smile is like adding rays of sunshine and a bowl of sugar-coated Frosted Flakes to their day. Nonetheless, my ears and voice will be most grateful upon my exit. Last Friday, for example, I just stared in stumped silence at my 2nd grade class, as one boy sat in the corner by his lonesome, playing the harmonica; as three pugnacious boys and a girl were chasing and wrestling with each other in the back of the class with realistic toy guns; as two girls argued and consequently cried; as three (adorable) girls choreographed a dance near the whiteboard; as the "big girl" in the class gave piggy back rides to the boys; as the other students colored; and as students asked me if they could go to the toilet every other minute or so. Only a few, albeit an eager few, wanted to learn about animals with me. I actually ended up laughing about it...what a wild scene!

On leaving my students: But though I worked in a circus, I will miss my students so very much. So very much so that my heart aches right now just thinking about them. When I first started teaching, I was overwhelmed by the large classes: a sea of uniforms, black hair, tan skin, eager eyes, and smiles. I'm Asian myself and had major problems memorizing their faces. But personalities emerged, my favorites were picked, my attachment grew. I feel like a parent who has raised an adoptive child and has to give him/her up: I wonder what my students will look like when they're older, what they will do, if they will still be the good children they are, if they will remember me.

Many of my students have expressed that they don't want me to leave. It's pretty cute in their broken English:

"Teacher, no go."
"Teacher. America, no."
"Teacherrrrrrrrrrr! *Clinging hug, pleading eyes*"
"Teacher, you, Amnuayvidhya School, 2011. No 2010."
"Teacher, I sad. You go America, oh no!"

To which I respond: "I know. Teacher sad." Perhaps I will be a weeping mess on Friday, who knows.

On leaving my friends: It's impossible not to form a special bond with people you've relied on for support, friendship, advice, and comradeship in a foreign country. Linnea and I will forever have a very special relationship because of all the adventures we've been on together. We were just two strangers brought together by fate, but now we have Thailand (and all its mis/adventures), and soon-to-be Burma, Cambodia, and Vietnam to share, between the memories, laughs, and shocks. She and I , along with my other Bangkok friends, Jenny and Jo, would always meet up in the city to catch up over a classy Sizzler salad bar dinner (go wild). We met tonight on Khao San, and it hit me how much I will miss the regularity of these outings. It will be surreal for me to settle back at home and see their pictures halfway across the world, knowing that I was there merely weeks, months ago. I sincerely will miss them, as well as my other CIEE friends. It's never been more clear to me than now that people are truly, strategically placed in our lives for a reason. With each path I've crossed, I take a little bit of that person with me and weave him/her into my own life. If meeting these people were all I got from CIEE, then paying that program fee would have been worth it.

On leaving this environment: Hallelujah. I can't stand this pollution anymore. I also think I will go through reverse culture shock when I go home to America and see clean streets devoid of stray dogs and their living/non-living counterparts & offsets (elaboration not needed). I can't wait!

On lessons learned: So many that I will devote a post to it. But an overarching lesson would be that many things in life do not go as planned, and yet you will seriously be okay. I knew this before Thailand but truly experienced it here in the littlest mishaps that can be applied to life in general. Buses will run late; taxi drivers will rip you off; you will wander and get lost; heck, you might not be able to communicate; but make a few U-turns, wait patiently, communicate with conviction and honesty, and keep your cool, for life is still good amidst the petty problems.

Because at the end of this, I know I am fortunate to be here and experience the ups and downs of this Thai life. As Jo reminded me the other day, when thinking about the downs of our lives in Thailand, think instead about this: Haiti. Enough said.

I am very, very blessed.