Flavor. // Cravings.

Hunger and thirst are signs that we need to take care of ourselves in the most basic ways.

Is satisfying a craving a way to satisfy a basic need?

I’ve been craving an energy that I succumbed to and let carry me away, like a tide carries away the mass of kelp that washed upon the shores.

I felt so hungry for this new found energy – I wanted to immerse myself in its waters, quenching my thirst for it, and devouring it for supper.

It’s easy to get lost in the flavors of a delectable energy when your tastebuds are of a palate with a sour taste.

How could one have a sour palate when life is oh so sweet?

When each time you fall, no matter how hard it is, no matter from what height, if you’ve believed that someone would catch you at the bottom but they didn’t or perhaps they caught you for a split second but then dropped you, you learn to fear tasting itself.

You steer clear of the times when you have the opportunity to try something new but you remember the last time you did and how what you last tried was so delicious, and so new, but it left an aftertaste in your mouth that is all too familiar.

You’ve learned to convert the salt from your tears to the sourness in your heart so as not to allow yourself to be enveloped again.

“Enveloping yourself isn’t worth the taste of my tears,” you say.

So you vow to yourself that no more can we fall,

no more can we immerse,

no more can we crave.

To crave so bad you start to hunger and to thirst so much you become dehydrated – that’s better than falling victim to the energies that make the butterflies in your chest dance after a long slumber.

But the problem with cravings is that they don’t actually go away entirely.

They come back to remind you of what you once tasted with your own tongue, your own lips.

They remind you of what it felt like to embrace someone who actually cared about you and wanted to make your palate sweet.

They remind you that there was a time when your palate actually was sweet.

I want a sweet palate again.

I want to immerse again.

The taste of that new energy was unlike any others I’ve tried before and I’m kicking myself for having gotten so startled at the explosion of flavors that I felt the need to spit out my food. It’s not because the taste was disgusting, I just wasn’t expecting so much juicy sweetness.

Now, I lie in bed and crave that flavor, crave that energy. Why didn’t anyone tell me that the worst cravings happen at night and always when you cannot satisfy them??

I realize now that I can still enjoy such deliciousness but I don’t need to binge on it – I can have little bites here and there and be okay and not overwhelmed, but excited for the next bite yet without feeling the need to devour the entire platter. What’s the rush in finishing the plate anyways when the best part of satisfying a craving is enjoying the taste of the flavors in the moment?

To savor the flavor of each bite is an act of self love and self discipline.

To taste this flavor in doses is a practice of patience.

I’ve been a binge eater most my life but I feel ready to discipline myself, just for the sake of making this flavor last longer.

Hello, Safety, we meet again…

It’s been so long since I’ve felt your embrace or basked in your presence.

Since i felt the way you gently place your hand on my shoulder to let me know it’s okay for me to show my soul to you.

I missed your warmth so much and after leaving my heart on the other side of the world, I wasn’t sure if I would see you again but here we are, standing face to face, radiating warmth off each other and as one unit.

You make me feel protected from the worries I believed were real and would follow me everywhere I went.

I used to pack an umbrella with me everywhere I would go just in case the world decided to rain its worries down on me yet again. The world having been merely just a projection of the fears the young child in me learned to be wary of… but with you, Safety, I don’t need an umbrella.

The umbrella has become obsolete because now even the darkest clouds that shed the tears of pain are an opportunity for me to look up at the sky with my arms wide open, letting the clouds’ tears wash away the fears I had dwelling inside me.

Why should we protect ourselves from rain when it gives an opportunity to cleanse?

An opportunity to nourish and help us grow?

An opportunity to put the wildfires of our hearts and minds out?

In Safety, there is sweetness, there is tenderness, there is patience, there is no judgment, and there is no fear because ultimately there is no worry at all even though at times this Safety honestly scares me.

From a lifelong journey of rejection from every male counterpart since i was conceived, I would inherently walk this earth constantly holding a fear that never once will I know the Safety or Protection that a man could give. So why do I want to runaway from Safety because I sense a danger in the security I feel when talking to someone new and exciting who talks to me from a place free of judgment, expectation, hypersexualization, or pressure?

Because in the past you’ve come under the guise of physical intimacy and just mere acceptance of the raw entity that I am, I’ve learned of the Safety that the self could give and ultimately I have been my own protector this entire time. I run from this newfound Safety to retreat to the safety I find comfort within – that is, I find security in my solitude of independence and poise.

But this time is different. This Safety is undeniable, and it’s going to stay here for an undetermined amount of time but that doesn’t even matter because it’s finally actually here.

Before, I’ve felt you, Safety, but those times I knew you would be short lived. I saw you walk through my front door and set your bags near it, only to fetch a few things from your bag, but never actually seeing you unpack it. I see you, Safety, coming to knock on my door once again, and this time you’ve come with no bags and just a blanket, but you’ve left your shoes at the door as I slowly open it to let you in. You drape the blanket over us, letting me know that you’re here to get cozy with me, providing extra warmth and all. I don’t know why now I feel like I’ll be embraced by you for longer, maybe even forever, but it doesn’t matter because again, you’re here and you’re present and I cannot shake away this feeling of you, Safety, because I know you’ll be here to stay for the longest you’ve ever came for a visit.

(Photo credit: Nina Paz // http://www.instagram.com/ninapazphotography )

The Heavy.

There’s so much weight these days.

On my shoulders.

Around my waist.

Within my arms.

I don’t even have the strength to reach out – it’s too heavy.

How could I reach out anyways? How do you reach for something when you don’t even know what it is, what it can do, or how it could help?

The heaviness weighs on my eyelids, casting them down like a curtain call on a class act.

The class act is waking up each day and just merely existing through it.

The play: life.

People talk about a heavy weight on their shoulders and how good it feels when that weight has finally been lifted off them, but nobody has talked about when the weight is your own head. Your own psyche. Your conceptualizations about the life you live, the society you were raised in, the people you’ve encountered… it all amounts to one heavy weight, directly on your shoulders… damn brain.

I suppose that’s in tandem with what everyone is referring to anyways when they speak of a weight being lifted. When we harbor these feelings of worry, grief, guilt, or shame, we feel the Heavy tremendously as it ruminates and runs in circles in our own mind. That is, these feelings are heavy because of the way we let them fester in our head – we torture ourselves by pondering thoughts that don’t even serve us any benefit. To finally be rid of any of these feelings – these thoughts, this torture – is to relieve your shoulders of the heavy weight that is your own psyche. And when thought of this way, the Heavy doesn’t seem as bad. Actually, one could find a way to transform the Heavy into elation just because the brain and its psyche are the most powerful things our souls have managed to possess in this lifetime.

But it’s hard to remember that when everything is heavy.

It’s hard to remind yourself of the strength of your brain – that you are strong enough to lift even the heaviest veils that have persisted to blind you of your truth, your light… After all, the brain is the single most powerful thing that keeps us down, keeping us heavy. Yet, it is simultaneously the most powerful thing that can lift us up. How odd, but how perfect. There truly are two sides to every coin.

what exactly are dreams?

When I wake up in the morning, I always have to adjust – adjust to the light, adjust to having my eyes open, adjust to realizing that the dreams I was just so intently living were just that: dreams. What do you say when your brain whisks you away to an alternate universe? When you slip into the abyss of a dream state ran by the governance of your subconscious? When you travel deep down this rabbit hole but there’s no true destination written on your boarding pass yet you know how you’re getting there because you’re in the midst of traversing there while in dreamland? What do you say when you finally arrive at this mystery destination in the abyssal subconscious and you feel appalled yet also relieved?

I tell myself that my dreams are just an alternate reality – a parallel universe that I merely get to spend a few minutes playing pretend in (a few days or weeks, perhaps even months in dreamland). But of course, that’s wishful thinking. My fantasies, fears, regrets, and most inner yearnings manifest themselves in dreamland only because they aren’t actualized in the real realm. It’s a peculiar thing to sit and pay attention to how our brains – our souls – will do this to us; teasing us with ideas of what could be, whether realistic or not. I always think to myself, “How dare I betray myself like that! Teasing and taunting myself with these dreams that remind me of the past, worry me about the future, and confuse me about the present!” And that’s why my dreams often leave me waking up in a fluster of confusion; trying to adjust my eyes while I’m deciphering what just occurred in the world I just returned from…

Often times, dreams elude to an element of the real life. The neural network within our cranium wouldn’t just conjure up something without some sort of source of inspiration – be it an event that occurred in real life, or a feeling that was elicited when we saw a beautiful piece of art, heard the melody of tune we came to know and love, or experienced something devastating. Perhaps the inspiration was a person we knew once in life, or even a stranger we saw at the train station or airport. Regardless, there is always a source, for the list of inspiration is infinite. And based off the source of inspiration, our brain will try to play out various stories that manifest into dreamland. When the inspiration is desire, these dreams are normally a pleasure to witness and endure. But when the inspiration is loss, it feels like torture. My subconscious leaves its arms stretched out, dangling the memories in front of my face as it uses it to conspire in torturing me with the what-could’ve-beens. It feels like torture because torture involves pain being inflicted upon someone against their will – but what nobody ever tells you is that we ourselves are most often tortured by our own psyche.

But no matter how often I experience this self-inflicted torture, I complain while stunned in a daze of confusion and curiosity. I struggle to find the words to iterate what just happened and why I feel tortured. How can I be so cruel to myself? Why would I betray myself and find these ways to tug on and play with my heart, ripping it slowly at the very seams I stitched up myself after it was ripped into nothing but pieces of itself? But that’s exactly it… it feels like torture but it’s not. It’s a chance to learn more about and fix myself again – another chance to stitch myself up properly. If I had done it right the first time, then the seams wouldn’t so easily fall apart. And that’s exactly what dreams are – they aren’t torture, but a cry for help, an homage to what I’ve lost; they’re a declaration of desire. Dreams are a teaser of all the possibilities that could be realized if I find a way to achieve and settle with these feelings of loss and desire. I just wish that my dreams would show me a realistic means for getting to my destination.

Photo credit: @vilmagjonzeneli on Instagram (http://instagram.com/vilmagjonzeneli)

Iris

Look into my eyes.

Tell me, what do you see?

Do you see an infinite space for growth?

Do you see the undeniable truth of how the past has shaped me to be who I am today?

Do you see the little girl who once had dreams and aspirations bigger than her heart, bigger than her own imagination?

Do you see a soul?

Do you see yourself?

Or do you just see another pair of eyes?

They say the eyes are the window to the soul; I believe there is some truth to that. You may not be able to tell me what you see when you see these eyes, but when I see yours, I see hope.

I see patience.

I see tenderness.

I see love.

I see endless possibilities.

And truthfully, I nowadays see myself.

I remember getting lost in your eyes, having gotten close enough to you to see the entire universe within your iris. I saw the sun and the moon and the stars and entire galaxies all within your eyes. I had never seen that before, at least not in one spot, not in something as small as a pair of eyes.

I think that was the first time I actually felt the world’s own heart beat in sync with my own. It was the first time I felt the future be within arms reach. It was the first time I felt the seed of love sprout roots within my soul.

Now, I never see those eyes anymore, but I am blessed to remember what they look like. I am blessed to have laid eyes on such a sight because now, I see the world, I see the universe, I see everyone and everything… I was blind, but now I see. And though being blind made navigating this world so hard and so painful, it has honored me with a unique indebtedness to it, for I am now able to see life in a refreshing, vibrant way.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but they never specified whose soul. I was never prepared to find my own soul within the galaxy of your iris. But now that I say that, I realize how silly that is. Because it could’ve been anybody to have shown me my own soul within their eyes – it just happened to be you. If we are all truly just a reflection of one another, why wasn’t it someone else?

The universe operates in such a way that whenever someone, anyone, makes a decision, any decision, it sets a timeline in motion. A whole slew of events will line up to occur until someone, whether the same someone or someone else, makes a decision that isn’t aligned with the slew of events that just lined up. This sounds far-fetched, but considering the way decisions are made every second of every hour on any day at any time, the events are constantly reorganizing themselves according to the last decision made by a person.

But somehow, enough decisions were made in just the most impeccable order to align me to you. To align our eyes to gaze at each other when they did.

We both once made the decision to look upon each other, to look through the windows of each other’s souls. We both decided to catch each other’s gaze and rest there, amongst each other’s irises.

And I’m sorry that only one of us got to see the world, the galaxy, all of humanity, and the endless possibilities that love and a future with another being could possess. I’m sorry only I got to see this incredible view in your eyes.

I’m sorry my windows had drapes over them. I wasn’t yet comfortable letting people look into my home when just passing by. I didn’t want to let anybody see love, the future, themselves, opportunity, possibility, the sun, the moon, the stars, or the galaxies. I didn’t want people to see that in me, because I couldn’t see it in myself, and I didn’t know what they looked like in other people anyway… And I knew that once someone saw all these divine niceties that the universe has to offer, they would also see the pain, the suffering, the blindness, the sorrow, the confusion, the fright, the loneliness, and the rejection by two fathers that a little girl had to endure for a life time to bring her to this point in time today, right now.

It’s immeasurable what a decision can do to set the course for a whole slew of events.

But still, I continue to remember my decision to gaze upon your eyes and to see everything within your iris…

Photo credit: @vilmagjonzeneli on Instagram (http://instagram.com/vilmagjonzeneli)

flowers.

I brought flowers for you, my love. I took a stroll and stumbled upon these and instantly thought of you – because these flowers are dead and dry and have had the life sucked out of them. It’s funny because that’s what happened with us – you saw my beauty and decided to pluck me from my roots, carrying me around and letting me dry out as I yearned to be watered with your love. But that’s the thing about flowers: we silently beg to be cared for, waiting to be watered, hoping to get a chance to reach towards the sun, but when the sun doesn’t reach us in the shadows and when the sky doesn’t cry for us, we wilt, and then we die.

Now the life in me has gone away, just as it’s left these flowers… but you see, my petals still have color in them – the last sign of life, the last sign of beauty. Eventually my petals will fall because in death, they are more delicate than in life. Yet the falling of these petals was inevitable, for no flower lasts forever. And just as a flower takes its natural course and sheds itself of its beautifully delicate petals, I have grown and shed myself of who I used to be, just like a cicada who molts and sheds their exoskeleton because they’ve grown and can no longer be contained by their old shell. This shedding was necessary for me to truly grow – for me to blossom into the flower that I’ve always meant to become. And now, the skies pour love onto my stems and leaves, and onto my petals, you see. It’s incredible how nourishing rain can be after a drought. And even amidst all this rain, the sun still finds a way to beam directly onto my petals. It shines its light and I can finally reach for it, basking in its warmth as it reminds me of the love it has for me; as it tells me it hopes I continue to grow. Because now, I am the flower, I am the rain, and I am also the sun. So thank you, my love, for making me wilt, and for helping me shed, for I wouldn’t be able to see the rainbows if it weren’t for you leaving me out to dry, deprived of the wet nourishment of love.

I took a stroll today and stumbled upon these flowers, and they reminded me of myself.

Photo credit: @em.is.blooming on Instagram (http://instagram.com/em.is.blooming)

The Ocean

It’s the way I remember you.

It’s the way I’ll be carefully continuing through my days, intentionally occupying my mind so it doesn’t drift away in an ocean of thoughts. But that’s the thing, the ocean has currents, waves, tides; all of them pushing and pulling my mind as it just tries to stay afloat. And just like an ocean, you come in waves. I think of you once when perhaps I hear a song that reminds me of you. Or perhaps when I read about something and get curious on if you know about it too. But like a wave, another reminder of you comes by, somehow knocking me down into the sand and forcing me to prop myself up on my hands and knees, coughing and gasping for air as another wave comes in and sweeps me under the current.

And I’m suddenly here again, drowning in the thought of you again – drowning in you, yet again. My mother taught me how to float when I was barely 2 years old. She taught me how to swim just a couple years later. The only problem is that she never taught me how to come back up for air when the ocean I’m drowning in is just a pool of emotions and memories of a person… I wish I could take swimming lessons for that. Because I try, you see? I try so hard to catch my breath after being consumed by the ocean, and I can only come up gasping for air just a couple times before I finally just surrender and let the currents take me away. It’s honestly peaceful when I just let the ocean run its course – it’s only traumatic when I try to go against the current, and I used to fight against the currents, simply because I wanted to get back to shore. And this ocean, oh man, this ocean… it’s too salty, I taste it all over my lips when I lick them and sometimes it manages to even burn my eyes, making me cry. But now… now, even though I know it’s best for me not to let the waves sweep me under the current, my thoughts and memories of you, I’ve managed to find a sweet, sweet bliss and gratitude that keeps me afloat. Because fighting takes too much energy, but floating is nearly effortless. I don’t want to fight the ocean anymore, I just want to float atop it, letting the story of us eventually carry me back to shore.

Photo credit: @em.is.blooming on Instagram (http://instagram.com/em.is.blooming)

Always Flashing Back…

I did it again.

I thought of you.

I thought about what it was like to spend time with you… about what it was like to share space with you. I remember when we used to talk to each other – messaging each other, calling each other to make plans to hang out; to make plans to bask in each other’s existence. I don’t know why or how even more than a year later I could still think about these moments, but it’s clear that it has to do with remembering how good those moments felt.

You were so amazing to me back then. I admired the way you looked at me – nobody had ever looked at me like that before… or at least it felt different when you did. You saw me in a way that I don’t believe anybody else did, and you let me know with the look in your eyes, by the way I would catch you looking at me, or by the way that our eyes would somehow simultaneously accidentally but intentionally meet, even from across the table, or across the room. Most guys don’t really see me – they’ll notice my body, my hair, maybe my face, and definitely my more confident and liberated energy, but never beyond this shell of my vessel… even the confident girls feel deeply.

But that’s all it was – you were one of the rare men I’ve encountered who wanted to learn more about me. To want to spend time with me. To want to hear and pay attention to what I actually had to say. And after you would listen to me, you would respond to everything I had to say because you were attentive – a rare quality for me to come by in the men I shared a physical attraction with. But that’s why I felt truly beautiful with you: you made me feel like there was more to me than just what I looked like or how I acted. You knew there was more to me than what presented before you, and you sought out to dig deeper into an untapped excavation site. You discovered the things that only I knew about, and at the time, that was revolutionary. Everything changed because of your efforts and desire to know more. It was exhilarating for someone to be curious and thoughtful about who I am when most just simply were excited to bare themselves inside. But you bore yourself inside me in a way that was never done before, nestling yourself in the hearth of my heart, becoming the coals to fuel my joy and my own evolution. I just need you to know that that’s why I still think about you… why I still flashback to spending time with you…

There’s so many beautiful, little moments we shared. Even now as I write this, I still feel some remnants of that feeling I had when I was with you. Back then it was a surge of energy that released from my heart and coursed through my veins, awakening every nerve in my body with a tingly sensation. This feeling would be accompanied by butterflies coming in waves of flocks, traveling from my heart to the tips of my fingers and toes, just as birds would fly south for the winter. It’s a feeling a person could never forget, and it’s a feeling that easily elicits something similar but watered down now when today I think about our time together, when I think about the way you used to look at me; when I think about the way it felt to feel your hands on my being. Except now, the surge of energy would pump from my heart but only make it halfway down my arms… I get goosebumps from thinking about our time together but only because it’s a ghost feeling: I’m feeling something that isn’t actually there. And that’s exactly why I get tripped up, even after all this time has passed since I last embraced you, since I last even spoke to you. Yet still, when I think about those memories, the chills come.

I don’t know why I get the chills when I think about what used to be. Is it a form of mourning? Is it a protective measure somehow? Why is it that you still give me chills even when I know it’s over? Do I just miss that feeling so much that when my mind brings back old memories, it sends signals to my body to recall those feelings? Or is it just mere psyche and bodily association with memories? What’s crazy is that once upon a time, it used to actually pain me to recall these memories… these feelings… if I recalled them, I would spiral into despair, sometimes reigniting the pain of heartbreak yet again… but now, it’s different. I can actually handle looking back on us and it’s not painful anymore. Sometimes those memories even make me hopeful actually. And part of that is because of you of course. I actually feel like I have a chance at cultivating a happy life with a partner, and I wouldn’t have this feeling today if we didn’t share whatever it was that we had. And for that, I am thankful. I hope you’ve managed to be thankful too.

It’s weird though, how I can manage to be thankful for our times together, be hopeful for a future love, yet still get that pain in my chest that’s just a mere echo of when the energy we shared first died out…

They say energy cannot be created or destroyed. But what happened to our energy? The unification of our souls and spirit, the immeasurable nuance of feeling so free and light when around each other? Where did that energy go? I find myself stumbling and thinking about this from time to time, getting overwhelmed with the need to understand where that energy went when all that happened was it merely got transformed, distributed, or transferred to something else. The energy is still there, and perhaps that’s why I even feel it now as I write this, it occasionally coming in and whispering one or two words onto the back of my neck, in which those whispers quickly tiptoe to dance upon my heart. Maybe it was never butterflies, but just tiny dancers who finally found a tempo they could all match together – a tempo to the ballad of you and me. They danced whenever we were together, whenever I would read your messages, whenever I would get the chance to tell you about my day or ask you about yours. They never danced at the thought of the future unless it was a future with you… I still have a hard time believing that I could have a bunch of tiny dancers waltzing throughout my entire body; but they would all dance for you. All the time. No matter what. And even I felt like dancing for you… all the time… no matter what… I hope I feel those tiny dancers again one day…

Do you remember when we danced together? That’s where I am always flashing back… Flashing back to you and me. Back to when things were simple, yet in truth they were complicated.

They say everything happens for a reason, and that must include heartbreak. The aches and pains and tears and holes, all in ones heart and soul – even all those happened for a reason. Nobody likes hearing that. It’s a fucked up conundrum because it is true; everything happens for a reason because it all has to do with divine timing, and sacred planning. But how can it be planned if we do not yet know of what’s in store in the future? My only answer is that each move made in today and in the past was a move deliberately made – no choices in the past were made entirely out of total incoherent consciousness. And no, blacking out does not count. I’m talking about for each moment we are conscious and aware of what we are doing, how we are behaving, aware of who we are with in that moment. Because if we are fully aware if these things, we must somehow be aware of our inner feelings too. But that isn’t necessarily the case for a lot of us; a lot of us have a side of us, a not fully awake part of us that somehow gets to call the shots. And even if now a person may come to realize that some (or even most) things done in the past were performed by their subconscious, that is still someone’s subconscious deliberately making a decision to show their true colors, to move them towards their true desire, to self sabotage them because they are truly scared of the possibility of finally succeeding in some regard. Whatever the case may be, there is deliberate planning that occurs. It happens. And I believe that’s what happened with us.

I don’t mind that my subconscious may have sabotaged the spark we had; my subconscious really having been the culprit who divided and redistributed our energy, transferring it to other means we needed to focus on in our lives. Our subconscious often tries to protect us from harm’s way, and for that I try not to be upset with it. I mean after all, it was only trying to do its job. I do want to apologize on its behalf for having snuffed out the fire between us; if that fire brought as much warmth to you as it did to me, I feel your pain and I wish you didn’t have to suffer at all. I know though, however, after that fire snuffed out, the ember and ashes of our magic ended up pushing you towards something else – towards something you always cared about and wanted to delve more into. I saw that after our magic burned out, and I couldn’t help but think it was so beautiful.

Even though sometimes it still pains me to the core to recognize that I was never meant to stay in your life forever, I know in my heart that I at least performed a catalyst for you, in which you were able to become more you, an evolved but more exciting you. And on the same token, this knowledge has managed to bring me this unfathomable elation to know that you’ve done the same for me.

[Entry 1 – Untitled.]

A whole year. That’s a long enough time for everything in the entire world to change. For everyone to collectively go through the same phenomena regardless of where they live in the world. And a whole year is still a short enough time for nothing to change at all. I find myself being so astonished at everything that happened in 2019 and then comparing it to 2020… how could, just last summer of 2019, I have been traveling for two months in southeast Asia, followed by a two week fall trip to Denmark and Norway, but now suddenly rarely leave the house besides for the occasional grocery store run? Or perhaps for that one bite out to eat? Last year there was no need to carry a mask with you everywhere you went. I remember opting for a mask during a small part of my trip in Vietnam simply because people recommended it for those who would be riding bikes all around town – it was just that dusty and polluted in some areas. Now I look back on that time and I can’t help but see it as a foreshadowing of the next year, a preamble if you will, and now yes getting to “opt in or out” of wearing a mask in some places but personally continuously opting for it just for the sake of health and safety for both myself and for others… it’s just… a trip… and even though I can’t freely travel anymore like I did last year, it doesn’t change how I feel about traveling at all. I still love it, I still crave it, and now I just miss it even more because I can’t do it. The different cultures, the variety of people, the amazing food, and the incredible memories – those moments almost seem even more special now than when I was experiencing them and I’m compelled to think it’s because I know I won’t have that same experience for a while, possible ever again…

My two month traveling extravaganza last summer had a little bit of everything you would hope and expect for on a mid-20s-year-old’s solo backpacking trip abroad. Learning cultural etiquette, how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ in the native language, making friends from so many different parts of the world, taking photos for other travelers, trying new food, taking a cooking class and making the best goddamn Vietnamese dish you ever had, going to the beach (I’m from a city desert so this is very special to me), getting drunk, hooking up with someone and being grateful they have air conditioning in the place they’re staying at when your hostel room had NO AC (yes this happened and yes y’all will be briefed on it), learning about key moments in history, the art, the folklore, the cultural celebrations, and yes, the summer time fling that was short lived but still makes an impact on me a year later – because a year is still a short enough time for nothing to change at all.

Before I start the recounting of my travels from last summer, I want to take the time to emphasize the beauty in divine timing. I think there is a reason for why we meet certain people or go to certain places on certain days at certain times. I know everyone talks about destiny or fate or whatever and there’s nothing wrong with those words or calling this phenomena those things, but for me, those words carry a lot of weight so I like to just call them by what they’re all thanks to: divine timing. Things are timed in a certain way to grant you an opportunity for growth, evolution if you will. You could pose the argument that these things are pre-planned and tailored just for you, but regardless, it is all still divine timing – events occurring in a specific sequence that allows you to become a better version of yourself because of this special order.

Divine timing is so specific in its tailored clock that it actually stopped me from moving forward with something I really wanted until years later. I had wanted to visit southeast Asia for a while, and more particularly Vietnam was on my list for my whole life but that’s because I am half Vietnamese. I first went overseas to study abroad for one month in Spain. This trip was through the university and so as long as the program and the plane ticket got paid for, everything else was organized and covered. That was my first time leaving the country and I fell in love with being abroad because of that trip. I didn’t have the added stresses of having to figure out everything on my own – I got to stay with a host family, all trips to museums and certain other towns or cities were included with the program, and almost everyday had something planned or something optional to attend. At the time I thought it was the perfect way to get introduced to what lied beyond the borders and territory of the USA, plus it was nice to get some class credit towards my Spanish minor just by studying abroad for one month over summer 😉 Spain is a very special place and a country with a culture I would love to be more absorbed into one day (hopefully for longer than a month). But though my love and desire for traveled had sparked, I wanted to do it with friends. Not that I didn’t make friends with other people in my program, I just wanted the people back home to get these experiences too. I couldn’t stop thinking about how awesome and fun it would be to have my friends with me overseas – traveling abroad is just that special, I want all my loved ones to experience it one day.

It’s not enough for me to want that for everyone though; everyone else has to want it too, and they have to have the means to do it. I have friends who have expressed wanting to travel abroad, even wanting to go with me, but it’s hard to coordinate those plans when most people can only get two weeks off in an entire year, and traveling overseas from the US is not cheap considering the plane ticket alone. I found myself spending the next year waiting for someone to be able to take a trip with me overseas, only for it to never happen. Come the end of 2016, we elected our 45th president of the USA, and my desire for travel diminished. No that’s not because I suddenly hated everywhere else and only loved the US (if anything it went quite the opposite). I actually genuinely felt like I wouldn’t be welcomed anywhere because of how awful the leader of my country is. And it’s not like the other option during the election of 2016 was much better either, I just felt like the whole world was watching the US tear itself down. I let three years of bullshit go by before I finally got fed up enough to just leave. And it’s funny because I always had the “back-of-the-mind” fear of “what if I get snatched up and sold??” – I am a petite young woman who could easily get snatched up if she wasn’t careful or if someone was fast enough. But that fear was trumped by how annoyed and pissed off I was at the 45th president and how now suddenly with him having been elected, people are suddenly back to being extra hateful, using religion to discriminate against and not show compassion towards others, and was firing trustworthy, experienced and reliable professionals who were heads of highly esteemed departments. I felt corruption getting worse and more blatant. I felt divide ripping this country apart and I just had to get out. I had to leave and I wanted to go somewhere where I wouldn’t have to worry or think about what 45 was doing because it wouldn’t be all over the news and media and such. I wanted to go somewhere tropical, relaxing, beautiful, and affordable.

I had a friend I knew since high school who was teaching English in Thailand for probably half a year or so by March of 2019. Throughout his time in Thailand, I would see him post photos and videos of the gorgeous island scenery, the appetizing food, and of all the fun he was having with both locals and other teachers. With every post he made on his social media, I was there to comment on it saying how amazing it looked, and just about every time he would respond with something in the nature of “You should come out here, you would love it.” I love that from day one he always advocated for me going out there, and simply because he knew I would love it there. But during that time, I was hesitant – I guess I was still nervous about traveling with my tiny stature and being from a world superpower that’s got a leader who pushes some awful rhetoric and comes off as an idiot due to lack of political experience and poor vocabulary and speech skills, why would anyone want me there if I am affiliated with that guy by default because of where I’m from? I would always respond to my friend with “yesss I know I would! One day man!” and then nothing would happen. It just finally worked out that one day he posted a picture of the beautiful clear blue water with some island cliffs in the background and I commented one last time and he said “Thailand is waiting for you”. I don’t know if it was because he phrased it in that way, or if I was really just that annoyed by the atmosphere in the US at the time, or perhaps it was a combination of the two plus the fact that I hadn’t traveled abroad in 4 years, but I finally felt compelled to actually start making moves towards getting my ass to Thailand. I messaged him and he told me him and his teacher friends were on summer break from teaching so some time in March or April would have been a great time to go so I could just travel and mob around with them, seeing as they had to return to teaching some time in late May. At this time it’s probably late January or early February, and I have a chat with another really good friend of mine; the friend in Thailand is a mutual of ours. I tell her I’m thinking about going out to Thailand to visit our friend and to travel and I will never forget her response just being, “Yes why the fuck not? You don’t have school, you can take that time off from working if you wanted and you have the money to do it AND he’s saying you can just mob with him and his friends so you’ll have people there. Literally, what’s stopping you?” And she was absolutely right. There was nothing actually stopping me. I had the time, I had the money, and I had the connection. From then on, I reached out to my friend in Thailand and he recommended dates for me to go. I told him the March flights were a little expensive and so I wanted to go out in May as a birthday trip to myself, and he recommended going on April 10th or 11th and staying for one month, just so I could start my trip off with Songkran, the traditional Thai New Year. This celebration of in Thailand is also a water festival wherein everyone just has a water fight in the street as this second week of April marks the hottest time of the year. Welp, I guess I’m going in April then!

After finalizing my flight details, my friend reached out to tell me that we had a mutual friend who would be going to Thailand during the same time as me and that I should reach out to her to coordinate some of the trip with her. This girl is someone I remembered having a class with in high school but we never hung out back then. At this time, her and I shared a mutual best friend but still never hung out with each other, so I took this as a great opportunity for me and this girl I was only acquainted with to get to know each other. I reach out and ask her when she was flying out and we happened to be flying in to Thailand on the the same day; so naturally, I ask her for her flight info… Y’all, I cannot make this shit up, we had the same exact flight from California out to Shianghai, China, and from Shianghai to Chiang Mai, Thailand – so we had the same layover and everything! The best part about this, was that there was still an available seat right next to her on the 14 hour flight from California to Shianghai, and I got to book that seat for myself! Here it is again, that divine timing magic. I would’ve had to endure that 14 hour flight on my own had I have decided to go to Thailand any other time, and I am so glad that wasn’t the case – that flight was just too damn long.

I remember when we landed in Chiang Mai, we had to find a taxi to get to our hostel, which was under our friend’s name. He made the mistake of thinking he would arrive back in Chiang Mai on the same day as us but he came in the day after and just got us an extra night at the hostel as sort of a ‘sorry for the inconvenience’. I chuckle thinking about it because it’s just very much something he would do but I am grateful he made a mistake on the dates because we had the chance to do our own light exploring in the area surrounding our hostel. We had delicious food and found some cute shops; just your typical first day of travel anywhere. I always appreciate the first day somewhere being relaxed and giving the chance to get settled. And thank goodness too because the next few days being Songkran, we were in for a wild welcome to southeast Asia, but a wild welcome that I will never forget…