Who Am I?

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South Korea
I'm one of many young American EFL teachers in South Korea. Before coming to Korea, I taught in France. I started this blog in summer 2011 as a way to retrospectively cover my life in Europe before going on to updates from Korea. As my journey takes me further down the road of activism for intentional community, farming, natural preservation and simpler living, this evolves from a short-term travel story to a story of growth and transformation. Feel free to get in touch.

Contents

5.18 (1) American radicalism (5) American road trip (1) American West (1) ancestors (3) art (1) Baekje (1) Belgium (2) bikes (8) books (2) Boston (1) Bulgaria (5) Calais (1) California (1) carnival (1) Couchsurfing (1) Damyang (1) EPIK 2012 (2) EPIK Korea (1) EPIK orientation (2) farms (8) food (4) Gangwondo (10) Grape Garden House (1) Greece (6) Guinsa (1) Gwangju (2) Gwangju News (1) Halla Mountain (1) Hallasan (1) Handemy Village 한드미마을 (1) Hansol Farm (1) Hongdae (1) Houston (9) International Strategy Center (1) Jeju (3) Jeju tangerines (1) Jeollanamdo (4) Jeollanamdo Language Program (1) Jeongamsa (1) Jeongseon (1) jimjilbang (1) Kangwonland Casino (1) Korea (1) Korean mountains (1) Korean alternative school (1) Korean Buddhism (3) Korean ESL (9) Korean farms (1) Korean Hope Bus (1) Korean meditation (1) Korean mountains (2) Korean radicalism (6) Korean village (2) Korean winter (3) kumdo (1) Kundera (1) LASIK in Korea (1) Lille (6) Los Angeles (1) May 18th movement (1) meditation (2) mental health (12) Milyang (1) Morocco (1) Mulme Healing Farm (2) Murakami (3) My Place 마이 플레이스 (1) Namyangju (1) nature (3) Paris (2) protests (1) radicalism (7) Redwoods (1) rural revival (7) Russia (2) Sabuk (9) Samcheok (1) San Francisco (1) Seoraksan (2) Seoul (2) South Jeolla province (2) Spain (2) summer (1) Tao (1) tattoos in Korea (1) teaching (3) Texas (1) travel (6) wilderness (1) winter (1) writing (2) WWOOF (8) WWOOF Korea (10) 교육 (1) 대안학교 (1) 한빛고등학교 (2)

Sunday, August 21, 2011

August 2011 Houston - The Dark Place

Houston, Texas

A place I haven't been to in quite some time. Different than the late fall troubles and the winter blues in Lille. Different even than post-Calais. Different than high school boredom and desperation. Different than pre-Cambridge Coop depression and frustration about the future. Different because I have just hit 24 years old, still quite young yet too old to be where I am now. The dark place. A place where all my small errors, huge mistakes, rash impulses, overanalyzing, bridge-burning, awkwardness, social ineptness, making heaviness out of lightness, melodrama, self-absorption, inconsideration, cruelty, feeling/thinking over action, travel burn-out, political awakening, city blues and perpetual state of loss hit me like a ton of bricks. The dark place. A place where all the beautiful/painful memories I have purposely or unconsciously repressed, the problems I never resolved, the childhood/adolescence insecurities, the broken family pieces, the personal and professional "failures" that I haven't recovered from, the displacement in a familiar place overwhelm me to the point of numbness. The dark place. A place where I doubt all that I have accomplished, the connections I've made, the foundations I've laid, the good times I've shared, the changes and progress I've decided on. The dark place. A place where I must "breathe the air and walk around." Where I must accept exactly who I am, own and take responsibility for each one of my actions and the fact that they affect my family, friends, acquaintances, strangers, everyone I come across. The dark place. A place that can teach me more about humility, compassion, love, laughter, risk, respect, communication. The dark place. A place where I can plant new seeds and strike new matches. The dark place. The underground bridge between two continents, civilizations, huge pieces of land in huge bodies of water, a huge shovel digging out fat worms feeding on fertile earth.

Who hasn't gone to this dark place? Who hasn't experienced so much that they are unable to sift out the flowers from the shit? Who hasn't taken their created suffering out on others, trying to unload the weight on those who don't ask for or deserve it? Who hasn't sunk their head so far below the water that they start growing gills? Who hasn't run on empty for so many miles that the shock of stalling, crashing, burning is hard to admit or accept?

And this is all the psyche. I am healthy. And loved by my family that I get to stay with. And supported by amazing individuals who have no obligation to be patient with my neurosis. Food in my belly. Roof over my head. Blah blah blah. "First world problems." No, just internal.

In no longer than six months, and probably only three, I will be in South Korea. I won't escape myself and this time around, I won't pretend that it's possible. But I know that there, with all the concrete new things to do every single second of every day, the dark place won't welcome me with open arms. It will lock me out and push me away from the door.

So while it's still possible to be here. Welcome to the dark place. Breathe the air and walk around.

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