Living with Myself

There are the travel moments I write about and post pictures of on Facebook and those that I don't.

Getting barred from exiting Thailand at airport immigrations on my way to Myanmar is definitely one of the latter.

Why was I trying to get to Myanmar? No reason, really, other than to escape the discomfort of inaction, the ever-present background fear that I may not be "accomplishing" anything on this trip of mine.

Most of the time, I'm able to keep the fear at bay with a task manager app I have called Google Keep. It's just a series of colorful boxes---mostly notes and to-do lists---where I deposit all of my mental noise: projects and goals, places to see and things to do, etc. I get an incredible, perverse satisfaction from crossing things off of these lists. But it is a very, very short-lived satisfaction.

Take the to-do list that brought me back to Bangkok:

Within 24 hours of landing, I had successfully compiled all of my visa application materials (no small feat) and submitted them along with my US passport at the Indian Embassy downtown. For about 20 minutes, I felt relief---that very short-lived satisfaction. Then, the background fear, only temporarily obscured, crept back in... Now what?

My Indian visa and US passport wouldn't be ready for pick-up for another week or so. My flight to India wasn't until another week and a half after that. I had already spent nearly a month in various places around Thailand this year, and it was my third visit to Bangkok. What can you possibly "accomplish" by being here? asked my little insecure traveler ego. What will you have to "show" for these next 20 days at the end of your trip?

I turned to Google Keep. Myanmar was still on my destination list. It was a new country and much harder to get into and around than Thailand. Yes, Myanmar would make a fine new addition to my "traveler resume." OK, Google Keep:

Armed with my Mastercard and new, shiny-blue to-do list, I started shooting down my fear one check-box bullet at a time: $50 for Myanmar e-visa---check. $150 round-trip flight---check. $30 for first three nights accommodation---check. In a matter of hours, I was approved, booked and scheduled for a 10-day trip to Myanmar.

Fast-forward to two days later as I, pleading with an unsympathetic Thai immigrations officer, am led out of the immigrations area and back to the departure terminal to collect my already checked-to-Myanmar bag. The problem? I had entered Thailand on my US passport, and the little blue booklet, with its critical Thai entry stamp, was still sitting at the Indian embassy in downtown Bangkok. Leaving the country on my un-stamped Danish passport was a no-go.

Anger, embarrassment and then...the blinking return of consciousness as I slowly awoke from my fear-driven Google Keep bender. Nothing left to do. No one else to blame. I picked up my bag, returned to my hostel, and crashed out for the next 12 hours.

When I awoke the next morning, the fear was still there, stronger---if anything---than it had been three days before. But this time, I didn't try to do anything about it, bury it under a fresh crop of multi-colored, Google Keep checkbox lists. Today, I took all my fear, discomfort, and anxiety up to the rooftop terrace of my Bangkok hostel and, for a good half hour, I just sat with it.

Nothing terribly fantastic happened. For the first ten minutes or so, it just splashed around in my mind like an angry cat trying to escape its monthly bath. Then, finding nothing to struggle against, it slowly started to wear itself out, tiring of its futile thrashing. After 20 minutes, it lay spent at the bottom of my gut, resigned to the silence. After another ten, I couldn't feel it at all, just the quiet hum of energy swirling through my body.

It's not like I got rid of my background fear/discomfort/anxiety for good. I just temporarily softened it under the spotlight of my attention. By sitting with it, looking at it, I stopped resisting it. And it stopped resisting me.

I'm going to Khao Yai National Park in central Thailand today instead, but honestly...who cares? I've travelled long enough now to know that it doesn't really matter whether I do X, Y, or Z... see this temple or that UNESCO World Heritage Site. The Google Search Images are almost always more stunning than the actual thing, and I forget most of the details of the experience in a matter of months. You---my friends, and family and "followers"---don't really care as long as I'm happy and safe. I know this, and yet I have to keep reminding myself again and again: Google Keep conquering the world one checkbox at a time is not what I'm out here to do.

Learning how to live with myself is...especially in these uncomfortable moments when my forward momentum slows or stops entirely. And that means learning how to sit with my fear/discomfort/anxiety---watch how it operates within me---rather than letting it unconsciously control my movements. It means continuing to use all the tools I've amassed---meditation, yoga, Qi Gong, Lojong---to train my mind to be calm and compassionate, rather than fearful and competitive.

Because here's the truth: my untrained mind will never be fully satisfied with my present moment reality---whether I'm stuck in Thailand waiting for a visa, or back at home winning an Oscar. It will always try to postpone my happiness and inner peace to some future date, hinge it on the accomplishment of the next arbitrary goal or project. And a deeper part of me knows that learning how to live with myself---or rather, at peace with my unconscious mind---is quite possibly the most important thing I could be doing with my life right now, even if it doesn't come with a salary, a massive following or a high-five from Oprah. Part of me knows that this repetitive, unsexy practice of mind-training might be my only real shot at being happy in the world, regardless of where I am or what I'm doing.

So Myanmar Schmyanmar. I can meditate just as well there as I can here, or in Khao Yai, or back at home. What matters is not where I go or what I do, but how I do it. And if I can learn to live at peace with myself and my present-moment reality, the rest will follow.

“Don’t move the way fear makes you move. Move the way love makes you move. Move the way joy makes you move.” — Osho