Life outside the comfort zone.
Completing an old draft.
(April 7, 2017)
Walking and eating by one's self allow a person to reflect deeply about... well, a lot of things.
(April 7, 2017)
Walking and eating by one's self allow a person to reflect deeply about... well, a lot of things.
Case in point:
I found myself one afternoon, in the midst of my routine hike around town, entering a Burmese diner three miles from where we live in Daly City. I could use a little rest, I thought; besides, I hadn't eaten lunch yet. The dim interior was also a welcome break from the outdoors, which was particularly hot and sunny that day. I went inside and sat near the back, facing away from the rest of the customers who were already enjoying their meals. I didn't mind that I came in alone, nor did I find awkward that I occupied a table for four people while a family of five and a young couple on a date were seated closely by. All I kept thinking about was one thing: I am going to try something new today.
I ordered mohinga -- catfish soup with vermicelli noodles (misua) topped with slices of boiled egg, coriander leaves and fried chickpeas -- with an ice cold glass of milk tea on the side. I always wondered what it tastes like ever since I saw Anthony Bourdain eat a bowl of it and thought it had "good textures" during his visit to Myanmar on the Parts Unknown pilot. And so when I discovered by chance that a restaurant three miles away serves it, I made a mental note to visit that place one day and emulate my idol by chowing down on my own bowl of mohinga; hence, the brief pit stop.
You might say, isn't it silly to be doing something just because you saw a guy on TV do it? But you see, he changed my whole perspective about the world. It wasn't until after college that I took my first few plane rides bound for destinations in and out of the Philippines, and it was just around that time that his CNN series stated airing. I got instantly hooked, not just because it was a travel show or because Bourdain had a way with words. I learned a lot from the guy, mostly how to be a good tourist in a foreign land:
"relentlessly curious, and without fear or prejudice."
I kept this and other valuable lessons in mind when my block-mates and I visited places such as Palawan, Caramoan, the Indochina region (Vietnam, Cambodia and Thailand), Japan and Korea. Had I remained only a passive participant in those journeys, I would've never known what it's like to ride the fastest zip line in the country, or taste local delicacies like tamilok and sundae (not the ice cream), or say "You are beautiful" in Khmer and "Excuse me, where is the toilet?" in Nihongo. There was so much of life to take in that I wasn't going to let everything slip by me. It would be this relentless curiosity, patterned after my idol's, that broadened my horizons and sparked my interest to see what the world has to offer...
But that was then.
I left that diner and made my way back home realizing it had been the only time since our family migrated to the U.S. that I've done something "different", if not close to "adventurous". It didn't take long to figure out what changed; it was this new reality we've been adjusting to for four months already (at the time) that seemed to be the problem, though I couldn't quite assess where my head is really at. I mean, I wasn't excited about the whole prospect of starting a new life in America, but I wasn't completely distraught by it either. And sure, there have been grueling bouts of homesickness every now and then, but I wasn't about ready to pack my things and come back home immediately. If my emotions could be read on a meter, the needle would probably be stuck in "zero-center" -- not too far left, not too far right, just down the middle. I guess the right word to describe how I'm feeling would be numb, or stoic.
It's no secret that I have mixed feelings about coming here. The news of our petition being processed caught us all off-guard as it had been twenty-two years since the paperwork was filed; I, for one, was personally resigned to the possibility that it may never happen, which is why I never told anyone about it (save for a few trusted souls). But when it did happen, I was shell-shocked. The next few months flew by and I simply went through the motions with little to no enthusiasm as we had our medical examinations, prepared other requirements, and finally went to the U.S. Embassy for our scheduled interview. Meanwhile, many other things still had to be taken care of: transitioning roles in the office and in the parish, organizing and participating in various big events within the diocese, and the like. There was hardly enough time to internally process what was going on because I was so busy. But when that final week came, that's when everything sank in. All those despedidas and well-wishes solidified for us the fact that this is it -- this is goodbye.
Then came the longest Friday of our lives: two connecting flights taking us from the recently-concluded chapter to the next one. From what is now considered our "past" to our imminent and inescapable future. From a part of our lives filled with countless memories to one that offers no guarantees or assurances.
This must be what it feels like to go out of my comfort zone.
. . .
(July 5, 2018)
Fast forward to a year later. And my, what a difference a year makes!
A lot of things have happened after that fateful meal at the Burmese diner. We made new friends, struck new opportunities, travelled to new places and gained new insights and perspectives. We discovered, learned and experienced new things that were alien and unknown to us before. There may have been some new episodes of those same-old mishaps and misadventures we've personally dealt with before, but these weren't to be outdone by the new sense of maturity with which we were able to overcome them.
It ain't all smiles, though. I still miss my old life. (Some parts, not all.) I reminisce about the way things were and every once in a while I wish I could travel back in time to just jump in and jump back out, if only briefly. I miss my family, friends and colleagues, especially those whom I won't see again in this life. Heck, I even miss -- perhaps in a smaller, impersonal sense -- the idols and heroes of my youth, including the one I'm writing about in this post who, much to the surprise of his worldwide audience, committed suicide not too long ago.
Yet, amid this roller-coaster ride of emotions, I can say with no reservations:
Have things turned out the way I imagined or hoped it would be? Probably not. But do I regret it? No freaking way. See, this is the part of going out of one's comfort zone that I hadn't quite figured out until, well, now: your fears become realities only when you allow them to be. It's okay to be afraid. It's alright to feel vulnerable. We're human, after all, and these tendencies are ingrained in our nature. But wallowing in them is, ultimately, a choice. And before you know it you begin to attract the very things you dread, simply because you let them come to you without doing anything about them.
There is another choice, though, and that is to rise to the occasion. Throw in all the cliches you want: playing the cards you're dealt, making lemonade (or margaritas) out of lemons, finding silver linings in every cloud, and so on. The other thing about comfort zones is that no one ever said it's wrong to be in one, but what's wrong is to settle there in complacency, thinking there is nothing more you are capable of doing or becoming. Just hang in there long enough, whatever situation you're in, and things will be comfortable again. One day, you just might end up surprising yourself and others with what you're able to accomplish... and then it's back to the drawing board again. The cycle continues, with no time to rest on your merits and laurels but rather all the time in the world to set that bar a little bit higher -- or maybe even be the bar, yourself.
It all comes back to what Chef Bourdain said from that quote at the beginning. His travel advice still technically applies to this situation, because why not. I mean, going out of one's comfort zone is a journey in itself, isn't it? So, dear friend, regardless of what you're going through, whether or not you are caught in the same dilemma as I had been, I offer to you the words of my idol in the hope that, as they did me, these will encourage you the next time you hit a crossroads moment in your life. Be...
It's no secret that I have mixed feelings about coming here. The news of our petition being processed caught us all off-guard as it had been twenty-two years since the paperwork was filed; I, for one, was personally resigned to the possibility that it may never happen, which is why I never told anyone about it (save for a few trusted souls). But when it did happen, I was shell-shocked. The next few months flew by and I simply went through the motions with little to no enthusiasm as we had our medical examinations, prepared other requirements, and finally went to the U.S. Embassy for our scheduled interview. Meanwhile, many other things still had to be taken care of: transitioning roles in the office and in the parish, organizing and participating in various big events within the diocese, and the like. There was hardly enough time to internally process what was going on because I was so busy. But when that final week came, that's when everything sank in. All those despedidas and well-wishes solidified for us the fact that this is it -- this is goodbye.
Then came the longest Friday of our lives: two connecting flights taking us from the recently-concluded chapter to the next one. From what is now considered our "past" to our imminent and inescapable future. From a part of our lives filled with countless memories to one that offers no guarantees or assurances.
This must be what it feels like to go out of my comfort zone.
. . .
(July 5, 2018)
Fast forward to a year later. And my, what a difference a year makes!
A lot of things have happened after that fateful meal at the Burmese diner. We made new friends, struck new opportunities, travelled to new places and gained new insights and perspectives. We discovered, learned and experienced new things that were alien and unknown to us before. There may have been some new episodes of those same-old mishaps and misadventures we've personally dealt with before, but these weren't to be outdone by the new sense of maturity with which we were able to overcome them.
It ain't all smiles, though. I still miss my old life. (Some parts, not all.) I reminisce about the way things were and every once in a while I wish I could travel back in time to just jump in and jump back out, if only briefly. I miss my family, friends and colleagues, especially those whom I won't see again in this life. Heck, I even miss -- perhaps in a smaller, impersonal sense -- the idols and heroes of my youth, including the one I'm writing about in this post who, much to the surprise of his worldwide audience, committed suicide not too long ago.
Yet, amid this roller-coaster ride of emotions, I can say with no reservations:
Have things turned out the way I imagined or hoped it would be? Probably not. But do I regret it? No freaking way. See, this is the part of going out of one's comfort zone that I hadn't quite figured out until, well, now: your fears become realities only when you allow them to be. It's okay to be afraid. It's alright to feel vulnerable. We're human, after all, and these tendencies are ingrained in our nature. But wallowing in them is, ultimately, a choice. And before you know it you begin to attract the very things you dread, simply because you let them come to you without doing anything about them.
There is another choice, though, and that is to rise to the occasion. Throw in all the cliches you want: playing the cards you're dealt, making lemonade (or margaritas) out of lemons, finding silver linings in every cloud, and so on. The other thing about comfort zones is that no one ever said it's wrong to be in one, but what's wrong is to settle there in complacency, thinking there is nothing more you are capable of doing or becoming. Just hang in there long enough, whatever situation you're in, and things will be comfortable again. One day, you just might end up surprising yourself and others with what you're able to accomplish... and then it's back to the drawing board again. The cycle continues, with no time to rest on your merits and laurels but rather all the time in the world to set that bar a little bit higher -- or maybe even be the bar, yourself.
It all comes back to what Chef Bourdain said from that quote at the beginning. His travel advice still technically applies to this situation, because why not. I mean, going out of one's comfort zone is a journey in itself, isn't it? So, dear friend, regardless of what you're going through, whether or not you are caught in the same dilemma as I had been, I offer to you the words of my idol in the hope that, as they did me, these will encourage you the next time you hit a crossroads moment in your life. Be...
"relentlessly curious, and without fear or prejudice."
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