At the moment I am sharing my life with
a lot of new people and one guinea pig. I have to say the guinea pig
is easier. I can Google it and learn all about its habits, social
structure, stressors, likes and dislikes with a simple click of the
mouse. I know that it is easily scared, that it is rarely aggressive,
that it clucks are friendly and that it enjoys my company. I wonder
sometimes if there was a giant intergalactic version of a catalog of all life what it would say about humans. It would be hard I guess
because although we posses a lot of universal traits there is such
diversity within our little species.
What happens to a person when they realize they are living in a culture and society that they don’t
have a handle on? What do you do when even the simplest human
interaction is confusing and redefines the norms you have held all
your life? It is so uncomfortable to one day realize you can no
longer recognize situations as threatening, that you second guess
even the most innocent of greetings, that each interaction of the day
confuses and upsets you in some deep and subtle way you barely recognize.
Is this why so often foreigners in far
flung countries stick together, forming bands of white face where
familiar social interactions can be returned to, safely protected
behind compound walls. Is it not just physical security we seek
inside but a protection of the norms that make us feel at ease?
Here is Madagascar I am constantly
reminded that a blind insistence that people and all just people is
in fact naïve and untrue. Things that would be hugely inappropriate
at home are every day here and I am constantly having to negotiate a
minefield of awkwardness as I am extorted, manipulated and lied to in
ways which here are par for the course. In return I behave according
to my own culture- attempting to maintain a professional distance
from superiors and officials which is then interpreted as prudish or
unfriendly, accepting help from kind strangers and not expecting to
have to give something in return or maintaining relationships which
to my eyes appear to be innocent; until it becomes clear that they
are not.
Each day is a steep learning curve as I
bob and weave on shaky legs this new terrain. I learn fast out of
necessity but the questions it raises about who makes the rules and
how I learned them so innately without conscious awareness only
snowball in my mind. I am trapped in a perpetual search for my own
self as I desperately attempt to redefine my own boundaries and
separate my own judgement and morality from those superimposed on my
by my environment. My introspection has always been a big part of who
I am and the constant battle with the self and the search for my own
personal truth is a game I have never stopped playing in my own head.
I have recently moved into a house run
by Polish nuns and it has once again raised for me questions of
religion and faith. I crave the ability to refer to an alternate
being in times of moral ambiguity, or cling to the knowledge that I
am not alone in the darkest hours but alas I have not been blessed
with this relief. I no more believe in god than I do that the earth
is flat or that Elvis lives among us. Belief is not a choice you make
it is the response to a question you ask yourself, having looked
inside and dragged out the truth. I feel life would be easier if I
was being lead by an entity whose morality and guidance was laid out
for me in black and white, having to follow ones own compass can be
both difficult and confusing. I read a passage from Sexing The Cherry
which resonated with me and nicely outlined my philosophies:
“The Buddhists say there are 149 ways
to God. I’m not looking for God, only for myself, and that is far
more complicated. God has had a great deal written about Him; nothing
has been written about me. God is bigger… easier to find, even in
the dark. I could be anywhere, and since I can’t describe myself I
can’t ask for help. We are alone in this quest, and it is right not
to disguise it... I have met a great many pilgrims on their way
towards God and I wonder why they have chosen to look for him rather
than themselves. Perhaps I’m missing the point- perhaps whilst
looking for someone else you might come across yourself unexpectedly,
in a garden somewhere or on a mountain watching the rain. But they
don’t seem to care about who they are. Some of them have told me
that the very point of searching for God is to forget oneself, to
lose oneself forever. But it is not difficult to lose oneself, or is
it the ego they are talking about, the hollow, screaming cadaver that
has no spirit within it?
I think that cadaver is only the ideal
self run mad, and if the other life, the secret life, could be found
and brought home, then a person might live in peace and have no need
for God. After all, he has no need for us, being complete.”
So perhaps this
is the problem. That I am looking for guidance from within a self who
I do not know and is too small and confused to identify. All I know
is that until each and every social interaction stops baffling me
entirely I will not be able to relax into my new life
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