a i m l e s s

Nothing lasts forever.  Anicca.  Anicca.  Anicca.  Everything is constantly changing.

Go with the flow, let whatever happens… happen.

Don’t get attached, it leads to misery.

Remember Mrs. Havisham.  Despising all men, and hurt beyond conscious comprehension?  FOREVER?  In her decrepit rotting wedding gown?

 Trust.  But know that, above all, all you have is YOURSELF. 

And in trusting in your innermost self, you will be okay. 

Because no matter what you choose, everything will be okay.

Obviously speaking… life is change.  This past month EVERYTHING is changing.  I’m entering a no-man’s-land that some may refer to as ‘late twenties,’ which includes re-evaluating all the decisions and experiences in the past 25 years as well as preparing “a plan” for the next 25.  I am generally a planless sort of girl, but lately I’ve been more motivated (thankfully!)  Another big change is that I have a full-time companion from the states.  My friend Mykal (don’t you know him?) arrived on Halloween and will be staying in Surat for the next month or months (he’s not sure, he likes it) to generally look around, learn, travel, and help out where he can (as well as enjoy the pleasure of my company.  Ha ha ha.) 

Bye bye lonelillies.  Not that I was excruciatingly lonely before he arrived, but I was feeling the bits of thorns and bramble that you often experience when you stumble off your path.    So, I found my paved road again, and it was there all along, as it always is.

 Of course questioning decisions comes along with analyzing the past.  I sometimes envision my life if my decisions were different.  Only, without remorse, because IT IS WHAT IT IS.  I’ve learned a ton, and I feel happy in the moment.  If I don’t, I meditate on it.

Today, the future is the biggest challenge in my mind.  I don’t know what’s in store for me.  I want a lot of different things.  My family and friends want a lot of different things for me, too.  I have time to figure out ‘it all’, and am reminding myself this whenever I feel overwhelmed.

For Halloween (and our birthday) Mykal and I went to Khanom with a crew of other farang.  We traveled in two VW buses, mixing endless buckets and listening to endless reggae covers.  After a swim and a nap, a few girls and I transformed into Thai schoolgirl zombies.  We bought the costumes at the real school uniform shop, and I must admit, we looked pretty disgusting!  (Though, nothing compared to last year… Oh KOREA!)

We won a costume contest, 3rd place, the prize being a bottle of Sangsom rum which was immediately taken care of.  After a bit of dancing and socializing, we headed back to the beach where we had previously set up camp.  The stars were brilliant and popping out of the blackness like braille.  The sea was calm and warm.  We swam to John Mayer softly flowing from the vans as well as the snap and crackle of a big coconut wood bonfire.  The phospherescence (sp?) was magical in the water.  Every time you moved, like a wizard with a wand, your movements trailed blue silver sparkling bits. 

I felt suspended between the vastness of the universe and the unknown mysteries of the space around me.  Time, age, future, planning, past… it all disappeared.  I was entranced.

And now.  I’m warming up to the idea of having a constant Jersey-speaking companion.  My ideas are being challenged and I’m certainly feeling inspiration as my Pyramid yoga course start date draws nearer (February 4!).

Thank you for all your love and support.  I had so many emails  and love notes on my birthday.  I feel totally blessed to have such beautiful caring people in my life.  Thank you!  Even though I’m not there, I think of you all the time.  Always in my heart, and with me through ‘it all!’  LOVE golden LOVE!

 xoxoxo 

Or am I?  I know some truths about myself and life, which feels like I’m slowwwwly moving upstairs from, “I don’t know anything at all.”  Having a family and friends is making me whole.  Not having acid eating me away from the inside is letting me heal.  Life is beautiful and I’ve been enjoying it.  I mean, it’s still a struggle.  But the glimmering moments outlast the headaches.  The delight outweighs the disappointment.  I’m full.  Full of wonder.  Wonderful.  Lately.

I’ve been spending lots of time with A, Benz, and Greg.  In these photos you will see us at a big festival in Surat, hanging at our friend Peh’s riverhome, my day in burma/myanmar for a visa run, and a three day cycling vacation with my friend Will.  I don’t feel incredibly inspired at the moment to tell you all about it. 

If you’re curious, call and ask me!   😉

Sometimes writing can clear your soul.  Sometimes it can dredge up old rotten garbage and cloud your visibility. 

(more…)

Most port cities I’ve experienced have been litter-filled, dead-fish-smelling homes to oily sailors with no manners.  (Prime examples: Busan, South Korea; Algeciras, Spain; Brindisi, Italy)  When my boss first introduced me to the idea of moving to Surat Thani I was less than excited.  If you didn’t know, Surat is a port city for Koh Phangan, Koh Samui, and Koh Tao… three of Thailand’s most popular vacation destinations.  In my mind that meant gorgeous turquoise waters with empty whisky bottles and plastic bags strewn about.  Not a beautiful sight in my mind’s eye.

(more…)

Good morning alarm clock.  Shut up.  Hello sunlight pouring out around my tacky blue curtains.  Eyes squinting, shuffle across the tile floor.  Greet the little ants crawling under the back door.  Ahhh, delicious; hot stagnant alley air.  Clock reads 7:35 am.  Yawn.  Mindlessly look around.  Open half-size refridgerator door.  Stare in for a few seconds.  Soymilk, museli, apples, bananas, tofu, jam, bread.  Grunt.  Close refridgerator door.  Groan.  Check mobile phone; no missed calls.  Smack the ant crawling on my shoulder.  Pick up a book and read a few lines.  Too early, put the book down.  Peer out the open door.  Wonder if the neighbors are watching you.  Flip on BBC, scan the breaking news.  Lay on the unmade bed.  Curl up.  Roll over.  Not tired, sit up.  Glance at the folded yoga mat.  Quickly look away.

 LACK OF MOTIVATION

I’m experiencing something that I can only describe as a lack of motivation.  I have ambitions here.  I have goals.  But in the morning, with the hot sun and the musty AC air, it’s nearly impossible to clear up the brain cloud that fogs me over.

What is it that creates the power to make change?

 So many people have so many stories about their own personal transformations.  I’m sure you do, don’t you?

 So maybe you’ve written about it.  Some soul-changing event that shaped the rest of your life.  Maybe it’s just a glimpse of a moment when you realized ‘things could be better’ or maybe it’s a series of events that led to many many learning experiences.

 Whatever it is, we want it.  Jessie and I, that is.  We want your stories, your rambles, your rants, your ficticious ambling words, photos, artwork, poetry.  We want it all.  What gave you the power to change, and what is the story behind it?

We want to create a literary magazine that centers around this powerful subject.  You can remain anonymous if you wish.  There are no guidelines or specifications.  Spread the word, if you know someone who might be interested in getting involved.

If possible (and you know it’s possible!) send your submissions by August 15.
 
Please email me or Jessie  🙂
MRumianowski@gmail.com, JessicaBeym@gmail.com

In a dream I was a werewolf
My soul was filled with crystal light
Lavender ribbons of rain sang
Ridding my heart of mortal fight

Broken sundown fatherless showdown
Gun hip swollen lip bottle sip yeah I suck dick
Lose grip on gravity falls sky blinding crumbling walls
River sweep away my memories of
Children’s things a young mother’s love
Before the yearning song of flesh on flesh
Young hearts burst open wounds bleed fresh
A young brother skinny and tall my older walks
Oceanward and somber, slumber sleeping
Flowers in the water,
But I’m just his daughter
Walking down an icy grave
leading to my Schizophrenic father.
Weeping willow won’t you wallow louder
Searching for my father’s power

I’ma shake you off though
Get up on that horse and
Ride into the sunset
Look back with no remorse

He’s a black magic wielder some say a witch
Wielded darkness when he was wilein’ on his mom’s
And born child and he was the bastard that broke
Up the marriage evil doer doing evil from a baby carriage
And he was born with the same blue eyes
Crystal ships dripping with ice, diamonds coruscate
In the night fireworks electric bright
And now he’s got his own two sons
Tried to hide his tearz in a world of fun
But loveless bedrooms filled with doom
Bring silent heartache July to June
Woon over new young hot flame
Mourn the memories later
Laugh now aligator

Oh in a dream
My father came to me
And made me swear that I’d keep
What sacred to me
And if I get the choice
To live in his name
I pray my way through the Rain
Singing Oh happy day

I don’t mean to close the door
But for the record my heart is sore
You blew through me like bullet holes
Left staind on my sheets and stains
On my soul
You left me broke down beggin for change
Had to catch a ride with a man who’s deranged
He had your hands and my father’s face
Another western vampire different time same place
I had dreams that brings me sadness
Pain much deep that a river
Sorrow flow through me in tiny waves of shivers
Corny movies make me reminisce
Breat me down easy on this generic love shit
First kiss frog and princess

Vietnam!

Our unwelcomed entrance to Vietnam included two overnight buses (blasting Lao music ALL NIGHT, squishing three full grown adults into seats built for two, infants wailing away, frequent slammings on brakes, crazy downhill speed stunts, and urine/b.o. smelling locals).  Exhausted, we boarded our final three hour ride; a truck taxi on pot-holed dirt road through northeastern Laos to the border city.

 All of this, and not even a kind welcome.  The Vietnamese guards were nice enough to rid us of our extra ‘kip’ (Lao money) at a terrible rate.  We were warned that locals in this border village were not used to having foreigners, and the ‘bus station’ was a mere 500 meters walk into the village.  The ‘bus station’ as mentioned, was little more than a man whose teeth were in a worse state than his rusted and dirty mini-bus.  He offered us the ridiculous price of 40US$ for a ride to Hanoi.  We were able to bargain him down to 30, but the going rate is about a quarter of that price.  Tired, hot, sweaty, muddy, we had no choice but to board this bus with it’s tiny seats and it’s men with outlandishly long finger and toenails that they ever so conveniently placed between the seats that Danny and I smushed into. 

The ride should have been 8 hours, but somehow we got shifted once more.  We stopped at every village, crossroads, town, and random house on the street, paired with a gentle constant quadruple horn honk at stops, gos, curves, straights, ups, downs, pretty much at any given moment the brake was replaced with the horn.  We arrived around midnight in Hanoi at an unnamed bus terminal to a crowd of pushy Vietnamese men who wanted us to ride on their motorbikes for an exorbitant price.  Thankfully, we knew of these scams and began our walk to the Old Quarter, realizing after just a few minutes, that we would never make it due to our current state of fatigue.  A few blocks away we flagged down a taxi, who put us on his meter and promised to take us to one of Lonely Planet’s suggested guesthouses (it was way too late to look around).  The meter rose faster than any taxi in New York City, and shafted again, we ended up paying 198,000 VND (about 12.50$) for a 15 minute taxi ride in circles.  I was so mad, I envisioned myself spitting at the taxi driver’s face, but somehow managed to keep my cool and snatch the 2,000 change as rudely as possible. 

 WELCOME TO VIETNAM.  The locals are unfriendly, unless they are trained in tourism in which case they forcefeed creepy laughter at inopportune conversational moments.  Bargaining takes on a violent undertone; as foreigners we are expected to pay five times the prices locals pay (which is okay for a vacation, but in long term travel is impossible to keep a budget!)  We’re hoping people are simply more pushy in the city, and once we leave for the south, we will encounter a friendlier vibe.

 We departed Hanoi after just a few days, to the humid and hot Cat Ba Island located in Halong Bay, just a few hours bus ride east.  We slept in a tent on the beach, burnt our fair skin in the powerful sun, swam in the warmest sea, and took a boat tour to see more islands around the area.  The water was clear and greenish, the limestone rock cliffs magnificent and large; they created some magnificent and large thoughts and emotions within me.  There were natural bridges eroded into many of the rocks, some were more narrow at the waterline, upside down tear-drop shaped protrusions of stone and green plant life.  We met a sweet sweedish family who travels together every summer in southeast asia and I felt inspired by them to instil the love of exploration and adventure to my future family. 

Back in Hanoi, our last day together, I must rush this post as Danny and I have a date with the Prison Museum to see photos of John McCain behind Vietnamese bars.  As for my future in Asia, I’ve had lots of questions about what’s next, so here’s a vague itinerary:

1.  Buy a bicycle this week, and gear, and cycle around Vietnam until the end of my visa (about three weeks.)

2.  Ride into Cambodia and explore Khmer culture, cycling through and stopping at many places along the way.

3.  Enter Thailand via bike, explore wildlife in Hat Yai National Park, and meet my new employer at the end of August in Surat Thani.

4.  Teach english part time in the port city of Chumpheon, with easy access to many beautiful islands and beaches.  (Breathe, eat, sleep, learn Thai, practice yoga)

5.  Undergo teacher training at Pyramid Yoga Center on Koh Phangan from February until April 2009.

6.  To avoid a severe beating from family and friends, return to New Jersey and share the shanti things I learned in the past year. 

Hopefully, the money will last and my bicycle will not fall apart.  No worries, I am prepared and safe for such travels (MOM, BREATHE!)

“Journeys are the midwives of thought.  Few places are more conducive to internal conversations than a moving plane, ship, or train (or bike).  There is an almost quaint correlation between what is in front of our eyes and the thoughts we are able to have in our heads: large thoughts at times requiring large views, new thoughts new places.  Introspective reflections which are liable to stall are helped along by the flow of the landscape.”

I have been following Andrew Morgan’s bicycle ride from New Jersey through South America since he started about a year ago.  His travels and mission are inspirational to begin with, but just recently he posted a discussion quoted by Rob Thomson and originally written by Chris Goulet titled “The Explorer-Adventurers.”  I found it touching, and truly inspirational.  Do you?

 The Explorer-Adventurers

We have an insatiable thirst to experience the world firsthand.

We derive intense satisfaction in challenging, difficult, insecure, and uncomfortable environments.

We take the time to observe and absorb, because we are not racing. We are not competing with anyone but ourselves.

Our encounters with vastly different environments, lifestyles, and beliefs profoundly expand our interest and awareness of the world.

Witnessing meager standards of living forever changes our perception of the Western preoccupation with striving for material wealth.

When we return home, we feel delighted at regaining the little pleasures that have been denied to us in faraway lands.

We have frequent flashbacks of our expeditions and take pleasure in telling others our experiences.

We become tolerant of petty annoyances or discomforts and become patient in our projects.

But the ceasing of discovery and strong sensations precipitate in us a long emotional slump.

Sensations we once held to be exciting become less so.

Is it worth it?  Like they say, “It’s better to have loved (traveled) and lost (come home) than never to have loved at all.”

Once we have eaten from the tree of knowledge, we cannot go back to ignorance.

While on expeditions, our attention is intensely focused and nothing else matters, but back home it is difficult to concentrate on what we are doing.

Our successes strongly reinforce our self-esteem. We can do anything, but we find we don’t really want to do anything but explore.

We dream of more adventures, and when preoccupation turns to obsession, we are bound to realize them.

We are fascinated with the stories of other explorers and we plan our expeditions to avoid their misfortunes.

Are we escaping from something or have we been unfortunate with normal life? The true weight of these factors lies hidden from us.

What do we search for?   We don’t really know, until we find it.

Ultimately, we explore to find ourselves.

Our passion for adventure continues…