The achingly slow process of transformation of self
June 14, 2010
It’s amazing how quickly one can adjust to small changes. Light switches mounted in little rows with outlets that you regularly turn off; the morning calls of the various street vendors gathering cardboard or delivering coffee and tea; eating with your right hand; finding the right spot under the ceiling fan; walking on the street instead of the ‘platform;’ and even the maid walking into my ‘flat’ unannounced and without a knock. Although the street noise is a slightly different subject (I can imagine some get used to it easier than others, but it is loud), the transformation of one’s self, one’s instinctual reaction to the surrounding world, makes for a fascinating—albeit occasionally painful—journey.
A primary reason for me to embark on this endeavor was to throw myself into a place contrary in most every way to my own. My appetite whetted with previous visits, the lure of conducting work AND life in a wholly new surrounding held appeal. I felt that the newness of everything—from transportation to grocery shopping, from laundry to personal time—would reawaken my senses and encourage me to be more sensitive to daily interactions with my surroundings. What I didn’t truly consider was those deeper-seeded aspects of myself, my intuitive, instinctual self.
First off, the internal pressure to get out and ‘do stuff’ was a bit overwhelming at first. I was, after all, in a new place with a wealth of experiences just waiting for me. I had a hard time staying in. The felt need to get out and experience life here was hard to combat and I found myself either stepping out merely to step out, or felt anxious while staying around my new home to get other work done. I was wasting experiences, right?
But I was setting up a home as well, a place to live for several months, not just to visit. I needed a routine, but of what? My daily regimens all got turned about. I was eating on other people’s timetables. I had no office to visit. My project was not to start for several weeks. I had no car. The heat was oppressive, making outside a challenge. I started to read a lot. Then I had the struggle of setting up phone, internet and bank account. The tussle with the system proved to be my first ‘routine’ as I daily had to deal with the setbacks and challenges of that unfamiliar set of systems. My mother visited, so I took care with her for a bit. Then I took a trip to visit and work with a friend. And suddenly a minor transformation happened. I had ‘done stuff’ and could turn my attention to my purpose for being here. I could actually start to think of this as home. I wished my mother a fond good-bye and was hanging about with a few friends.
Somewhere in all of that I had faced an unknown: Losing control. My life was no longer ‘my life,’ but a life that needed to embrace the odd and the needed interactions with the life style I had desired to adopt (without knowing what it would be) and the people who have proved to be more than friends, but are your life, in a way. I was losing control but gaining a sort of perspective.
As I struggled, I also came to realize that I needed to reconsider my reactions and comparisons. Haggling with rickshaw drivers does not come naturally to me, and when I would give in to the eventual agreed upon fee, I kept feeling as though I had lost somehow, and should have been stronger or more insistent in my negotiations. But it is a process that happens all the time, an expected and understood process. My reaction needed to shift to one of understanding when I might be deliberately being taken advantage of (as when one driver wanted to charge two fees because two of us were traveling together) and knowing the general amount to aim for, rather than try to ‘win.’ In the long run, the amount is miniscule anyway. I fight the urge to challenge vehicles as they head right for me, expecting me to get out of the way. I am so used to being the empowered pedestrian. In a like fashion, not taking it so hard when people cut ahead in an essentially non-existent line. The rules are different and transforming the urges to understanding is a slow process, but can be a fun one if viewed correctly. As I was obviously being targeted one day by a rickshaw driver, to get me to visit a specific store, I just walked away…and enjoyed the sensation of the physical haggle as he came back at me to offer a lower price a promise to take me straight home. Of course then he started to haggle for a little more money, but we parted with a thank you as I stood my initial ground.
The other challenge lies in inappropriate comparisons. I can easily say that the cost of rickshaw travel is only a dollar or two, so what’s the big deal? An eight hour bus ride cost me two and a half dollars. A nice kurta, maybe 10 bucks. But those comparisons are not valid. My stipend is paid in rupees, I am charged in rupees and I need to consider how things compare here, not in my US home. Shifting understanding of value, though, is difficult, since we so often base the value of something on its cost. But if you come to understand value based on personal preference and then see how costs compare locally, then a transition can begin.
As I slowly retool my lifestyle—developing new daily regimes, ways to eat and travel, what my entertainment choices are and ablution habits are becoming—I am forced, openly so, to turn my reflections inward to question what is of value and how I remake myself in this new world of mine. This open reflection may seem somewhat tired or familiar to the reader, but for me it provides small revelations that continue to help my transformation into this, what will prove to be, brief life.