Tread softly

I’m ‘livin’ the dream’ right? On a tiny tropical island!

And every day I get to share that dream space with happy souls from all around the world that come here for their holiday 😃.

My blonde hair and Australian accent make it pretty obvious to most of those visitors that I’m not a local Indonesian. And, so, it’s pretty natural that they ask the question, “How long have you lived on this island?!”

Actually this is a question that almost everyone who comes to Meno Madia asks me. Some within seconds of meeting me.

Then, they lean forward, smile broadly and look directly into my eyes, and with the ‘livin the dream’ postcard-picture endorphins swirling in their curious minds, they ask me another question.

“And WHAT made you decide to live here?!”

So, how do I answer that question.

There’s no doubt if Harley hadn’t died I wouldn’t have started a new life on a tiny island in another country. Indonesia hadn’t even been anywhere close to my radar.

When I came – and stayed – here, some people felt it was because I was running away from my pain. They thought I was escaping ‘reality’.

But we all know our pain is inside us, and we can’t run away from ourselves.

Some people thought I was amazing. They said things like, ‘You’re such a strong and brave woman to start this whole new life for yourself’.

It wasn’t really brave; I had help. And it wasn’t really a decision. Truth be known I just let myself go with the flow and, despite my grief, I let my heart and mind stay open to the potential, pain and poetry of this thing we call Life.

I know deep down inside that the gift I gave to myself of space and time was not an escape, it was instead a healing process and new beginning, and it was the best thing for me.

One thing I didn’t figure on though, was that I’d be faced with having to explain that story to every godamn beautiful soul I meet here.

Those of you who know me well, know I’m a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve kinda person. I’m open. Deflecting and bullshit aren’t my strong suits. So each time I’m asked outright by a stranger the “what made you come to live here” question, I’m faced with a dilemma.

Do I burst their gleeful bubble and tell them outright that the man I loved with all my heart and soul died in a tragic way, and I crashed, too sad and broken to live in the place where all my memories are triggered?

Where does conversation go from there??

Do I selectively choose words and say I experienced a ‘trauma’ and needed to take some time out, and I found the quiet and simplicity of island life was good for me?

Somewhat cryptic and flat, but it does give me a little bit of protection.

Or do I dampen it down completely and just say I came here on a holiday and simply never left! And whynot?! Return their glee with a giggle?

Superficial chit chat 😉.

Sure, a penetrating personal question can lead to more interesting chit-chat than the weather. And sharing your life stories does make for meaningful and engaging connections. We can learn so much from listening to other people’s stuff.

But what if that stuff is painful?

Do I need to be reminded of it all the time? Is it good for me to rehash it all the time? Is it fair to Made?

Actually, being constantly confronted with this question has taught me a few things.

It’s helped me improve my ability to think before I speak or share. It’s helped me to learn more about the art of conversation. To tread softly.

Sharing your stories, exposing your vulnerabilities and your grief, can have a significant effect on others.

Sometimes it can inspire. Everybody has their story and their struggles, and hearing about how somebody else treads water or swims through the waves can inspire people to follow their own dreams, or change parts of their own lives. It is astounding just how many of our guests are themselves burnt out, or seriously struggling with an aspect of their life.

It can lead to deeper conversations. To pearls of wisdom and understanding and mutual support. I have gained soooo much from the connections, empathy, gems of advice and other stories guests have shared with me in return.

It can lead to lifelong friendships.

Sometimes it shocks. And people turn away. Change the subject. And that’s ok.

And really, is it fair to expect people to know all this when they ask an innocent question?

Probably not. But it is something to consider, for all of us, that the question you ask somebody, may not be one they wish to answer. So how you ask the question, becomes important.

When I did my yoga teacher training course I learnt about the skill, or art, of yielding. A simple wet prac we did demonstrated this concept of yielding well. We had a large wide bowl with a couple of centimetres of cornflour in it, covered with a small amount of water. You know how wet cornflour goes super hard? Almost solid? We found that if you press your hand down hard onto this cornflour, it will be met with resistance. Your hand simply won’t penetrate it.

If you hold your hand lightly on top of the cornflour, it won’t go through either. Nothing will happen, no connection.

But if you gently press your hand down, just enough to find the balance between nothingness and resistance, your hand will slowly move down into the flour, into the depths of the softness, enveloped and embraced.

This skill is one of the many we learn from yoga wisdom. To move with stability, flexibility and strength through yoga poses we need to find the appropriate balance or midpoint between propping and collapsing.

This skill, or art, also applies to our social interactions. Just as you wouldn’t barge into a room full of strangers without knocking first, it’s also a good idea not to barge into a conversation if you’d like kindness and connection to be a part of it.

Remember always that someone may not wish to discuss something you ask them about. Remember that sometimes there’s pain, or baggage, or struggle behind what seems like sparkle and fortune. Remember there might be darkness under the light.

Find a gentle way of showing interest, and listen. Get to know a person just a little – even a few minutes! – before you ask a question that might take them to painful memories or current painful realities.

Yesterday a young English guy asked me the question. It was, atypically, not until the third day after we’d met. We’d already shared a few breakfasts and even yoga. He was in his early twenties, a construction worker, strong and adventurous. Yet he spoke gently.

“Claudia, what do you think made you decide to make a new life for yourself here?” he said.

And he added softly, “If you don’t mind me asking”.

Hehe, perhaps it’s just the politeness of the Brits.

But his manner and warmth was genuine and I felt my heart soften and embrace his words, just like the cornflour embraced my hand when I pressed gently. And so I answered him honestly and openly.

It transpired that his empathy and interest came from his concern for his mother who was going through a particularly rough patch, and she was considering options for her future. We went on to have a sincere discussion about life.

Sure, the end result might not be so different no matter how a person asks the question. Perhaps it’s only that I wouldn’t feel so bombarded and sad each time. And wouldn’t need to juggle the sense of obligation to answer a question honestly, with the feelings of guilt or rudeness if I choose to be evasive.

And what about those happy souls holidaying here on this tropical island? You know, the same goes for me when I first meet them. I must tread softly.

For example when we have a guest arrive and during the general chit-chat on greeting, I find out they’ve been to a few countries on this trip already.

I know from my experience now, not to ask them, “Cool! How exciting! You’ve taken a year off work then?!”

I don’t say to them, “Wow, you’re adventuring for 9 months, lucky you!!!”.

Both would be natural responses, and there’s nothing wrong with enthusiasm, and in being happy for someone.

BUT. Take a moment to think. What if that person is travelling for 9 months because he worked so hard as a health provider for ten years without a single break and became ill and completely burnt out? He can not work any more, because he suffers from anxiety. The reason he’s travelling is to learn about spirituality, self-compassion and to find a new direction in life.

Or, what if it’s the first time she’s had even a moment’s break in 19 long years because she put her career on hold to be the sole carer of her son who was injured during his birth and is a quadriplegic?

These are just two examples of real stories from our guests.

Those people aren’t skipping around Asia with glee and delight. They are moving slow. Taking essential and overdue time to recharge, or rethink, or reset. To release the stress and grief. To rest.

They don’t necessarily want to be reminded of their pain or loss or illness every time they meet someone and exchange greetings. Sure, from a first world perspective they have the fortune or wisdom to travel or have a holiday. But, the circumstances which provided them with that opportunity included suffering or hardship, and they don’t want to hear that they are “lucky”.

Be mindful. Know you are potentially stepping on people’s souls every time you ask a relative stranger a seemingly innocent question. And this pertains as equally to the shop assistant in your local supermarket, the person you meet at a function, and the stranger you are seated next to at a conference. Tread softly. Because more softness in this world that’s so often full of rigidity, hardness, and loudness wouldn’t be a bad thing, methinks.

I often think of Don Miguel Ruiz’s The Four Agreements, as a good guide for my life. I think these ‘agreements’ can also be applied whenever you meet someone new and you feel curious about their life, or whenever someone asks you an innocent question that is just so hard to answer because it brings up painful memories.

* Never assume. In this case, never assume that the person you are curious about is well enough or able to answer – or dodge – your question.
* Never take things personally. On the flip side, if someone asks you a question that causes pain, remember that they most likely mean well, and their enthusiasm or curiosity or lack of manners are a reflection of themselves only.
* Be impeccable with your word. T.H.I.N.K. before you speak. Are your words True, Helpful, Inspiring, Necessary and Kind?
* Always try your best. We’re all human, and make mistakes. I know I’ve suffered big-time from foot-in-mouth disease! I’ve also been prone to being over-sensitive to others’ words. But I’m learning to be kind to myself, and believe that if we all consciously try our best, even in the art of careful conversation, that’s a pretty darn good start, and would go a long way to making this world a softer place.