Shoestring Soul Searching #3: More Vietnam

Happy May everyone. Was my painting from the last newsletter handed a level of defeat that would make American Samoa blush? Possibly. Do I trudge forward undeterred? Yes I do.

Winding down Vietnam

Just like that, our time in Vietnam is over. Our month here seems like it’s flown by, but if I pause and think about everything we’ve experienced, it also feels like an eternity.

I’m grateful to this place for giving us a sense of relaxation. Not that there haven’t been stressors (exploding bathroom, anyone?) but overall, we’ve had a lifestyle that is slower, quieter, and closer to nature. Tiff even convinced me to do yoga a couple times!

I also appreciate Vietnam for doing things its own way, requiring us to adapt and keeping us on our toes. While traveling isn’t the cure for life’s problems, I do think there’s something to learning an unfamiliar routine in an unfamiliar place that dislodges some of the rocks blocking the flow of our thinking. Where better to do that than Vietnam, where crossing the street is a spiritual exercise in surrendering control of your physical sense of self to thirty motorbike drivers charging towards you? Or where a hotel finally answers the question, “How would it look if the Keebler Elves dropped a bunch of acid and got into the hospitality business?”

And finally, I say thanks for the moments that taught me nothing and gave me nothing except a funny memory and a dumb picture.

What happens now? We’re headed to Korea. I want to show Tiff where I spent time as a kid, and I myself as an adult would like to reconnect with the place better. At some point I should also start talking to people about career stuff…

The power of narrative

April 30th marked the 50th anniversary of the end of the Vietnam War. In Vietnam, it was full-on victory mode with no shortage of banners, parades, and concerts. I imagine for Vietnamese communities in the US the mood was much more pensive, about loss and trauma but also resilience. For me, it was a reminder of how one event can generate starkly divergent narratives.

Narrative is a key part of being human. We use narratives to make sense of our lives by linking with the past and future. We tell stories about where we came from and where we’re going, and it gives our existence meaning. Without the ability to create a narrative, life would be reduced to a series of disjointed reactions in the moment. Hunger, fear, arousal, more hunger, anger. You get the idea.

But narratives can also trap us. The same person with a stable job and loving spouse can feel like a success if they thought of themselves as a hopeless loser in high school, or a failure if they thought of themselves as a standout destined for greater things. There are helpful narratives and unhelpful narratives.

Part of my current journey is identifying which self-narratives I wish to take with me, and which I want to discard. That requires understanding what narratives I tell in the first place. No easy task. Some foundational things I believe about myself, the ones embedded so deep I barely notice them, have turned out to be constructed narratives. For a long time I thought I was laid-back because people told me so based on a way I talked and behaved. That obscured a level of anxiety I am only starting to fully grasp.

For now, the goal is more self-awareness. Remember the disjointed reactions in the moment? I’m learning they’re actually important to focus on. The key difference being, we make the choice not to act on those reactions. Nor do we judge whether certain reactions are better or worse. I sit, I observe what comes up, and from that vantage point I gain some awareness of my subjective narratives. Or I try, anyway. There’s always a Panda Express dish or a song lyric from 2001 that seems to be fighting for my attention.

Any of you have experience seeking greater self-awareness? Any tips that have helped you? I would love to hear.

And now, demotivating signs from my hike of Langbiang Peak (7110’)

In honor of Earth Day, please enjoy these gems.

Earth is great! It’s still the best planet I know. If you tell me you found a better one, I say you’re a liar.

See you from Korea,

Bryan