backdrop to trip return ticket date

backdrop to trip return ticket date

A couple of weeks before I left, my schedule opened up somewhat for January.  Leaving my return ticket date in place, I'd let everyone know it was possible I might extend the trip by a few weeks, giving myself a mid-December time frame for that decision. Probably a mistake, as a certain amount of mental energy ended up siphoned off for said decision as mid-December arrived. 

When I would climb up to the Sagaing hills, where I would sit on the stone bench among the trees and the quiet light, staying on seemed so much more right than leaving in a couple weeks.  Staying would also allow me to conclude my trip with a retreat close by with some special teachers in mid-January that I really would have liked to do. At the same time, physically and energetically, staying another month—another six weeks at that time—felt beyond my capacity, worn down as I was by night after loudspeaker-blasting night; egg after boiled egg meal; and at every turn, uncertainties around there being anything for me to even do; and a part of me felt ready to come home.  An inner sense of the rightness of staying was balanced equally—and outweighed—by the deep body-level "I can't do it." 

I postponed the phone call to the airline about changing my ticket to the Monday we would return from the eye clinic weekend, which was December 22, and although at that point I was leaning toward staying on, I had so little sleep Sunday night that I couldn't conceive of even making a phone call to the airline office, much less making a flight change ensuring more sleepless nights.

At one point I sent out an email to close friends and family inviting collective wisdom and helpful perspectives, and received some wise responses, which I resonated with on both sides, a sampling of which follows:

My bias is usually to extend the trip, because you don't know when you'll have another chance. And I find if I can get some time to myself, just to rest alone, I have the energy to continue.  Whichever you decide, to stay longer or not, each one has its rewards. My best advice is not to decide when you're tired. - D.

Have you had a long enough trip? Are you tired such that the trip is no longer stimulating?  Listen carefully. Follow your gut as to what will make you happy.  Miss you, J.

You give wonderful reasons to extend your stay! - J. & D.

It is not a failure to take care of one's self.—A.

Seems to me you'll have plenty of time to be home once you get here, and being there is such a rare opportunity, I'd go with getting more rest while you are there and stay a bit longer, take this next opportunity.    Easy for me to say, I'm already home!!  Help any?  Hope so. Much love, J.

My gut feeling is come home. If you feel ready for it, follow your heart.
Brett, however, says that you never regret the adventures you live but the ones you don't. I'm sure whatever you do will be good. M

 Tuesday morning I talked to Aung, wondering if there was any place else I could stay that would be more quiet and he told me whom to talk in Ven Sobhita'a absence to ask (as I suspected, there wasn't).  I also tried to get a better idea about teaching possibilities over the break. Ven Sobhita had stayed on in his village, and I couldn't reach him even by texting. 

 I met in the office, though, a warm and friendly monk with excellent English, Ashin Candavara, who had just arrived. (One of the monks who had started the school, he was currently getting a doctorate in
was sorry that he was too busy to arrange the classes during the break that he had promised).  Ashin Candavara offered to check with a friend in his village nearby to see about me teaching there (his friend wasn't reachable, in the end), and he supported me in continuing to teach the "under the trees" classroom.  

     

The next day I woke up with a shifted "It's possible," and called the Myanmar Eva Airline office to reschedule my flight for late January: only quite unexpectedly, even though the date was way far out and past the high season, there were no seats available on the new date I requested—or on any of several dates either side of it (my guess is the Chinese new year in Taiwan was a cause of this: the flight portion between Taipei and San Francisco was fully booked). Taken aback, I said I would call back, which as the office was closing in a few minutes, ending up meaning first thing in the morning the day after Christmas, when the office would next be open.  

I arranged to go with Aung on his motorbike into Saigaing early that morning so he could help me with the call with his Burmese, following which I could then book my Bangkok flight from the internet café.  Only when he called, even the couple dates that I'd decided were marginally possible were not actually available, making it not possible to attend the retreat.  Which made it very clear to me: time to go home now, and attend the L.A. Byron Katie weekend that I would have missed in staying on.

On the way to the internet café the thought fleetingly occurred to me that I could still stay the additional three weeks anyway, giving me one more week at IBEC, the week at Phaung Daw Oo, and a week to stay at one of the Thai monasteries I had contact information for. But that felt potentially complicated, with keeping my current return flight making more sense.  So I booked my connecting Air Asia flight for the following morning and overnight hotel in Bangkok.

.

        But then….

It was like that special late afternoon light where everything is bathed in a golden glow was cast over Sagaing as I rode home on the back of Aung Khaing Soe's motorcycle after making my Bangkok flight reservations—over the dirt road, over the pink robes of the little nuns we passed, and the brown robed monks, and white monastery walls.   
And over the faces of the young novices as I taught them that afternoon under the trees.  It was if Puck or Eros scattered fairy dust over everything and I was suddenly so in love with there, and with the children, and I felt so sad at saying good bye, and they were sad also.  And I said to them maybe I would wake up and decide to stay.  

 

I could always come back again the following year.  Yet for once I knew coming back again another 
year would not be the same as being there now.
 It would not be the same with the children, who would be older or moved on; Aung would be gone, and without his support these weeks it would have been very hard, and maybe Thuzar too. All was well back at the fort; the only downside would be missing the weekend Byron Katie conference I had wanted to attend (but would likely be so jetlagged for anyway that who knows how present I'd have been able to be); and I knew from experience that leaving somewhere early to go somewhere else does not always prove the most rewarding experience.   It seemed to make good sense to be where I am, and to complete the journey, leaving next year free for whatever would unfold at that time.

So I walked a very short way up the hill in the morning, and sat with both the "It's done—time to go now" (though the thought of being back on Solano Avenue the following day felt very disorienting), and the other choice, to "be where I am" and "complete the journey"  …… 

And it was the latter which chose itself.