For example: my meditation teacher used to say something to the effect of, "Meditation practice is difficult. You will probably lose focus at least a hundred times during each sit. So, it's important to remember one thing. Don't get discouraged, don't beat yourself up. Just take a deep breath, and be willing to start again."
He was, in my opinion, a pretty smart dude. So I'm going to take his advice with regards to this blogging business.
I've been in Korea for a little over 8 months now. During that time I've written dozens of emails, hundreds of Facebook posts, and thousands of vaguely inspirational/admonitory notes in my students' diaries. "Keep up the good work, Sally!", or sometimes, "I'm sick of reading that you slept and watched TV on Sunday, Billy, tell me something different next time." However, my blog post count has yet to crack double digits.
When I arrived here I thought I'd be writing far more frequently. This is Asia, after all, and interesting stuff happens all the time here. Not like Minnesota. We have earthquakes, odd restaurant dishes, and cultural misunderstandings galore. If you can't be inspired to write in a place like this, you're probably lacking a pulse.
There's a catch, however - the fundamental difference between being in a place as a visitor, and actually living there. Meditation practice teaches us to be wary of sleepwalking through life. If you're not paying attention it's easy to wake up and go to sleep a few thousand times without really noticing a thing. Vacations are usually great because our surroundings are so unusual that we become deeply curious automatically.
When your mindset switches from tourist to long-term resident, however, the normalization process kicks in. At least it did in my case (to some extent). You've seen the monuments, you've been to the festivals, you've eaten the live octopus. During a walk to the supermarket, you become accustomed to 99.9% of fellow pedestrians speaking a different language than you.
And after all, you're not being paid to broaden your cultural horizons. Grade reports need to be typed. Supervisors need to be schmoozed. Worksheets need to be written at 8 a.m. for uber-frenetic little weasels who will throw them in the trash can if you turn your back for a second (sometimes they fold the papers into odd little geometric shapes if you're lucky). Before you know it, your exotic adventure has become awfully goddamn ordinary.
Of course, this is all a sly trick of perspective. For most of us plodding through the indefinite midsection of the Korean experience, we're just trying to make a buck (or won) and survive until the weekend when we can enjoy a few hours without wiping up a 5 year old's nosebleed. But to the people back home, our friends and family, we are in the midst of a grand and life-altering adventure.
And they're right. I'm incredibly grateful for every note that says, "Wow, you're in Korea! Bet that's amazing, you're so lucky!" That outside perspective is hugely valuable for shaking us out of our routines. Tthanks folks, for reminding me that there's no need to be a 9 to 5 robot (or in this case a 11:30 to 8 robot with a break in the afternoon). The big picture is where it's at - get hung up on the details and it's a long, slow, boring trip. We're in Korea, we're basically getting paid for speaking our native language, and we get to bum around Asia a couple times each year. Life's good.
It's April 12 and I'm back in the blog-writing saddle. I'll be making a conscious effort to make a consistent effort. It might not work all the time. But I'm confident that no matter how many times I get stuck, I'll find a way to start again. Like Robert Hunter once said, they can't revoke your soul for tryin'.
(Or something like that.)
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