6 Weeks In: A Hero's Journey?

It's been a month and a half since I arrived somewhat dazed, a bit scared and quite excited in Bangkok. Wow how time has flown by.

6 weeks later, I'm in Hanoi, Vietnam, about to travel by plane to Hue, a city on Vietnam's north central coast. I certainly had NO idea I'd go there, much less much sense I'd make it to Vietnam.

But here I am! And it's been quite a trip here in South East Asia.

Being exposed to the exotic (for me) and a beautiful new aesthetic. Devouring the street life, and the street food! Meandering through alleys and markets. Learning new languages, and settling for lots of non-verbal communication! Exploring waterfalls and caves and temples I didn't even imagine could exist.

Riding elephants. Riding motorbikes. Riding boats and tuk tuks and bicycles and planes and trains, and buses driven by maniacs with a death wish!

Collapsing twice in a restaurant and being taken by ambulance over windy mountain roads at midnight with only myself to take care of me, and perhaps the unseen. Clenching my teeth and thinking, "The flourescent light above you will NOT be the last thing you see." A mixture of tenacity and a deep knowledge that I am held. And then needles and IVs and heart monitors and tests and sweet Thai doctors and even sweeter Thai nurses. And recovering slowly on rice, miso soup, phone calls home and al-Jazeera.

People trying to cheat me every which way in Hanoi. My scam radar system and ability to bargain, installed at birth in every Israeli, have served me well. And though I know it's not personal, there is still something heartbreaking about a woman serving you soup (chicken soup of all things!) and trying to overcharge you, or a young taxi driver lying through his teeth about how far something is and how much the journey should cost.

And there's something heartbreaking about seeing children dressed in rags begging for money. And knowing I am traveling through lands ravaged my wars my country waged decades ago.

And there is so much beauty in this place too. In the land. In the culture. In the smiles of the people of Thailand, Lao, and Vietnam. In their gentleness. In the enthusiastic handshakes and even more enthusiastic hellos and good wishes I've received as an American here in Vietnam, from Hanoi's busiest sidewalk eateries to the smallest little villages I've ever visited.

A month and a half into this voyage, I'm proud - and somewhat surprised - I've made it this far. I plan to stay at least another month, and I'm excited about it. And yet I am rather tired, from a combination of traveling and nursing my body back to health yet again.

And I miss home and all my dear friends, in a sweet way. I miss my forest and my food and tap water that won't make me sick and dancing and hugs and people with tremendous depth and weather I've grown used to and redwood trees and hamburgers and hot tubs and naps and quiet. Oh quiet!

Though I've certainly felt loneliness and ups and downs, I've mainly been quite even-keeled. I am glad I am here. I had to do this, no doubt. I've enjoyed a lot, and also been somewhat disappointed: this voyage has not lived up to my fantasy, not yet anyway.

And yet I am excited to continue. To see more of Vietnam: Hoi An, Saigon, My Lai even. To journey to Cambodia and Angkor and see the the first streams of sunlight bathe the ruins at dawn! To be in Thailand during the annual water festival. To travel to the southern islands and relax deeply on magnificent beaches lapped by warm tourqouise water and surrounded by stunning limestone cliffs!

Some days I feel small. Yes, I do. And other says I feel so adventurous, like yesterday, when I rented a motorbike, invited a girl at my hostel to hop on, and explored the Vietnam of my dreams, running out of gas and finding some 15 feet down the rural roads, zipping down windy roads surrounded by jungle-clad karsts and walking, alone, down narrow paths through stunning, isolated jade-colored valleys. These places are NOT in Lonely Planet! OK most of them weren't. ;-)

I've never traveled like this, alone and for so long. I did spend 4 months in Europe when I was 19, and though that was challenging, it was mainly a study abroad program.

This is me, alone, with no plans, no teachers, no parents, no friends. I can do almost anything and almost anything can be done to me. Hey that's not what I was thinking! Come on guys, this is serious. ;-)

Of course I feel some uneasiness about that. But mainly I know that's a big reason why I'm here: to do this on my own. To go out with virtually no external support - no people or things or conventions I am used to - and to make my way.

And yet, at least for now, I've revised what I thought was my initial agenda. Or perhaps only redefined my purpose.

I though I was coming here for a Hero's Journey that would test my might. I laughed when I had to fill out the immigration form: you can check 'business,' 'vacation,' and an assortment of other categories, but there isn't one for 'Hero's Journey'!

The Hero's Journey is an archetype, which as I understand it, is a story that is common to all of humanity. And this one involves the hero - each of us - leaving home, being tested, and then returning a new person. It's a vital rite of passage.

And that's a big part of why I thought I came here, and perhaps still do. But my conception of the Hero's Journey was in large part this: to be bad-ass and conquer this experience!

What's been working itself through me recently, however, is the idea that maybe this trip doesn't need to be a fantasy, and maybe I don't need to be a hero. That all my life I've tried and often succeeded at being the hero. That all my life I've sought to be perfect, strong, the best.

I think what I'm learning is that I am mortal. I am flesh and blood. I am not perfect. I can't do it alone. I do need people, very much. I do need help, I do fail sometimes, and there's nothing wrong with that. It is sometimes beautiful and sometimes ugly and it is at least profoundly normal. It's being human.

I feel myself coming down to earth. I feel myself wanting simple things more: friends, community, communion with nature, a deep relationship with place...fortunately, all things I have already!

And also, in addition to most likely doing good work for the world, valuing the smaller acts more: of being there for a friend, of smiling at the old lady at the grocery store, of being kind in my every day.

And I am thinking of family, too. Of my current family, and of the family I'll create one day, maybe sooner than I thought?

So many of the people I love are giving birth, and I am envious! I can't wait to spend more time with them and their children. And I am feeling more and more ready to meet a wonderful partner, and love her deeply and passionately, and not settle for anything less than that. And to grow and explore, and to have children (don't hold your breath yet, mom!).

So what's a hero?

Maybe what I'm doing is heroic, for me at least. And maybe it doesn't matter. Maybe the main lesson of my Hero's Journey is that I don't need to be a hero anymore. Ha! To come all this way and read all about the journey only to realize that I don't need to be a hero. How ironic! And what I relief. I can just be me, beautiful, wonderful, imperfect, mortal me, equal to everyone around me, doing my part. I can go on a big trip with high hopes and come back happy but not elated with my experience. OK! That's fine! Some experiences are incredible. Others suck. And some are just plain good.

And just now a very old man, frail, exhausted, barely makes his way off the street and onto a chair in my guesthouse. A reminder, somehow, in the flesh, of everything I've just written. Everything.

And now the old man is gone. Was he even really here?

Perhaps this journey is a fuller initiation into adulthood, to the acceptance that rather than things always working out our way - a child's view - and that you are unstoppable - an adolescent view - in fact the world is far more complex.

Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose. Sometimes you love and it is not returned, and sometimes, it is the other way around. And some precious times, it is!

Sometimes you leave and other times you are left. Sometimes you succeed and other times you fail. Sometimes you are the best, sometimes the worst, and most often, perhaps, somewhere in betweem.

Sometimes you go for it and other times you hold back. Sometimes you cry and shiver with fear, and other times you yelp out in joy at your triumph. And often, again, it's somewhere in between.

I'm feeling more drawn to balance. Rather than an infinite series of battles to reach an infinite (and unattainable) goal, I think I am learning, more and more on this voyage, to see life as a series of exciting experiments.

Some cities rock and others suck. Some travel buddies crack us up and others, well, we can't get away from quick enough! Sometimes you have the perfect day on your motorbike and other times you run out of gas. And sometimes, both happen!

When I was young, one of my favorite movies was "War Games," a brilliant film starring Matthew Broderick about the futility of nuclear weapons and the Cold War. A computer that is supposed to only simulate battles against the USSR takes over and decides to launch a full blown conflict. Eventually, he is taught that such a battle can never have a winner.

"Sometimes," the computer concludes as the movie climaxes, "the only way to win is not to play the game."

Since my early childhood, I have been trying to win a game made up of an infite series of games. Really, it's a game against myself, one that I can't win.

The goal of the game is to be perfect and be the best. To be the best at math. To be the best brother and son and grandson. To be the best at tennis and basketball and volleyball and soccer. To be the best at languages and adventures and camping and cooking and music and love making and dancing, my God, probably everything I have ever tried.

This drive has brought me a lot, and I don't want to overlook that. It's given me a lot of success, relative financial comfort, friends, the ability to impact things.

But it has also cost me so much. It has cost me peace, because it has meant I need to continually tread water to stay afloat. And it has cost me relationshops too.

What if I let my self sink sometimes? What if my fire doesn't always have to be the brightest?

Big fires take a lot of energy. And they burn out quickly.

And the connection one feels there is superficial. It is actually a lonely place.

What if I stopped seeing other people's fires as threats, and instead sought comfort in their warmth and inspiration in their glow? And, even, support their growth, out of joy and love?

As I write now, I'm thinking, "Hold on a sec. You DO support others! You do bask in their glow, more and more, and support them out of joy and love!"

Yes. It's true. And I must not overlook that. That again is seeing things as black and white, and me as not good enough!

Perhaps I'm able to write this now because it is sinking into me, and this act of writing is one of a series of acts that will help it sink in a bit deeper.

And yet it is also true that the drive to be the best and brightest and always triumph still feels too strong to me. Still feels out of alignment.

So how to temper this and come into balance while not making THAT a new thing to be great at?! Oh we humans! It's rare we are let off easy ;-)

Ah it feels good to write this. I feel relief, like, "Ah, I can show more of the real me, and that is OK!"

It's actually a big part of what came out of my Vision Quest. This may be a story I've told you, or even written on this blog (I can't recall), but I'll tell it again, because it seems to be so appropriate.

The day before I went into the wilderness alone, I was confronted with an intense, nerve-wracking realization: that what was holding me back most from stepping into a world of mystery, soul and trust was my need to be perfect at that. What if I fail at my quest?!

That night I wrote on a piece of paper, "Roni needs to get it right and be perfect all the time." I explained to my group how this drive has served me, and also the places it has cost me so dearly. I tossed that piece of paper into a ceremonial fire with the intention of letting go of that idea.

My next 3 days and nights, spent alone in a magestic and stark wilderness, I worked with this idea quite a bit, and let go more and more of the need to identify with it.

It all came to a head on my last night. Many people spend the last night of their quests conducting all night vigils. I was wracked with this choice: would I be bad ass enough to do it?

As I sat perched on a hilltop, it sunk in deep: I don't NEED to do it. That I am enough just as I am. I can go to sleep under the stars, and wake up at dawn and walk off that mountain a good, whole, strong man.

A song came to me then, and the refrain was, "I am enough." And not only that, but the world is enough. My family is enough. My friends are enough. This world is enough!

That morning, I woke before first light, sat on that hilltop, lit a fire and watched as the dawn crept in and illuminated the stunning landscape of mountains, valleys, canyons and rocks.

Before I left for this trip, a friend said, "Your trip is like a quest": a 3-month version of a 3-day quest!

It rang true as soon as he said it, and it has stuck with me. Really, I think our whole lives are Quests. So I don't need to get it "right" by 32 or 33. Our growth and evolution last our whole lives, if not for eternity.

Boy does that take the pressure off! It changes the whole game.

It means I don't have to rush. It means that I can live these questions and face life with far more lightness. Because it never ends, it means you never reach the ideal, you just work toward it at whatever pace and in whatever way feels right. And you soak up all the good in and around you. I feel so much freedom in that.

I can never be perfect and there will always be someone somewhere better than me and everything I do. Often, there will be many people!

In a recent post I wrote about something that came to me while I sat alone in a cave (ha, I realize how funny that must sound to anyone who doesn't live in Fairfax! LOL.) OK I'm trying to stop laughing. :-)

What came to me is that dreams and nightmares live in the same place. Later I realzed that out in the world, Vietnam, with its stark beauty and brutal history, is such a place for me. Inside, at least one place where dreams and nightmares seem to intersect for me is here: that the (fading) nightmare of failure is actually where my dream for peace lies.

There you go. Accepting my imperfection, and hence the imperfection of life and of those around me, and still doing and loving, and striving out of joy.

This too is an ideal, so I'll be careful not to try to be perfect at that too. God Alanis Morrisette would have a field day with this material!

It's not about giving up the parts of me that strive for great things. The bad ass, the tenacious one, the conqueror - these are vital parts that certainly have their place. I think it's more about finding balance, and allowing other parts to flourish as well.

There's so much more as always, but I think I'll stop here. I don't need to get this perfect!

I do have some more time left here in Asia, and 5 minutes before I'm off to the airport, so perhaps I'll wish myself some things. It's a very Fairfax thing to do!

I wish myself feelings of comfort and security on this voyage. I wish myself joy and fun and humor and rich adventure! I wish myself a continued letting go of the need to be great all the time. I wish myself the experiences I need and acceptance of what comes my way. I wish myself safety, and lightness, and play. I wish myself a new definition of success, and a willingness to try and fail, and the knowing, in the end, of when it is time to leave this place and come home, and a feeling of completion around that.

My dear friends and family, I love you all so much. So so much. Two nights ago I even dreamed I had dinner with you. I couldn't make out most of the faces, but I was sharing a meal with those I love. If there are a few ideals I won't let go of, that's one of them!

Wow it's interesting to really want to be traveling alone, and also to savor home and homecoming so! Thanks for reading and for all your love and support. I'll keep keeping you posted!

So much love and my best wishes to you,
Roni