2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 33

Aboard the plane, the stewardesses bowed to greet me. Dressed in silk brocade of ice-cream pastels, they looked like butterflies of the sky. The youngest stewardess wore a top of soft pink, held shut in the front with a column of Chinese button knots, a silk sarong and a sash of pale yellow. Another one sported the same three piece ensemble in olive green. And a third one in radiant orchid. I looked at them, and then at the vast planeful of seats in all its vibrancy, and thought at once of Auntie Sun.

I settled into my seat next to the window, and gazed out at the runway. I giggled when I spotted - 'oh there's the terrace of the premier lounge.' Then I watched the waters turn from a muddled green to a deep misty blue as we drew higher and higher up into the sky. I didn't feel sad to be leaving this beautiful island. In fact, I felt content and fulfilled and excited. I had a mission accomplished feeling. Like check me out, I survived for a whole month, all on my own, in a totally foreign country.

In a lot of ways this was my first taste of independence. And I don't just mean traveling alone and being financially independent. It was the first time I truly thought as an independent person.


As you will recall, I pulled out the Asia map from the seat pocket right about now, and realized for the first time how far apart Phuket and Bali are. Originally, I thought they must be practically next to each other, like Victoria and Vancouver, or Beijing and Seoul. Not knowing, there are all these great countries like the Philippines, and Singapore, and Malaysia and plenty of ocean hanging out in between. As the map clearly mapped out, Phuket is next to China, and Bali, well, it took me a while of squinting to find it, Bali is almost in another hemisphere, next to Australia. I chuckled at my own shaky geography, and marveled at the way things turned out. (I mean, I'd received a prophecy from a 9th generation medicine man! I wondered if the Monkey King felt the same way when he'd finally obtained the great scrolls of wisdom from Buddha after Eighty-One obstacles in his great Journey to the West.)


Then I sighed, in silent wonder, at how close it had been, how I almost missed it, how I almost chose Phuket over Bali.

I remember the photographs aunt and uncle had shown me from their trips to both islands, their faces glistening from perspiration and merriment in a little fishing boat, swaying on clear blue water. How convincing they had been, with their first-hand experience and unanimous, unconditional endorsement of Phuket, how ignorant I felt when Dad phoned to tell me about the devastating terrorist attacks in Bali, and how after hearing their earnest advice, I felt heavy. Like I had a sack of rice strapped to my chest.

This heaviness, as I later came to realize, was a mixture of fear, guilt and uncertainty. Now, I'm the type of person who will discuss practically everything with my family. I welcome their opinions and input, and seek their understanding and approval. Growing up, we all inevitably learn to listen to our parents. When you're young, your mother warns you the stove is hot, don't touch it. You don't listen, touch it, burn yourself and instantly wish you'd listened to your mother.  From hence forever onward, if I decide on anything significant without my parents' seal of approval, without their wisdom-clad guarantee, I feel extra fear, that 'if-you-don't-listen-to-your-mother, you-will-burn-yourself' fear. And of course, disobeying your elders chafes against the most important Chinese value of all – filial piety. Guilt ensues.


It astonishes me how easily and how quickly one loses sight of what one wants, with everyone else's opinions buzzing about. Before you know it, you've forgotten why you'd come here, what sparked the idea in the first place, and think that all you're really after is a nice beach vacation with lots of parties. Because it's what you've been telling other people, you start to believe it yourself. A nice beach vacation is something people can understand, it's universally appreciated and unquestionably supported. Because the real reason is just too weird, not to mention, embarrassing, to pass around. I could just imagine the awkward silence on aunt's face, if I told her I'm going to spend all this extra money, fly all these extra miles, to visit a character I'd seen in a movie.


It's difficult even for me to grasp, pragmatic me, when the original idea (of seeing Ketut) isn't rooted in logic, intellect or common sense – everything I can explain and understand to be certain. Executing on this desire, is like trying to stay still in the midst of a hurricane, head deep in muddy water, limbs banged up on debris, struggling to get a grip on something solid, but all I clutched was a bundle of seaweed. This was how I felt when all evidence pointed towards Phuket, and I was grasping at straws to stick with Bali. Yet, when the storm passed, and the water subsided, surprisingly, I am still here. Right where I wanted to be. This is why as the plane lifted off Bali, I felt so "Mission Accomplished." Because, I held on to that ethereal bundle of seaweed.


And it actually worked.


It might seem trivial and silly to you that I was practically having a metaphysical crisis over one fabulous tropical island, and another equally, fabulous, tropical island. I didn't really get it at the time either, but on that flight home, I was beginning to sense that – even though it was a vacation, even though at first the desire to see Ketut was nothing but a whisper, but the fact that I did it, was a minor cause for celebration. Like a bird who'd grown a new feather on her wings, I was growing self-trust.


David Deida wrote, "If you give up your real decision to follow [others'], then you will blame them for being wrong if they're wrong, and you will feel disempowered if they are right, having denied yourself the opportunity to act from your core and grow from your mistakes." More spiritually, one calls this "consulting your deepest wisdom." He said, "You should always listen to [others], but make your own decision."


And I'm happy to report that with each new decision, big or small, I'm developing a deeper appreciation of the word independence.