Going With The Flow

A lot of people 'go with the flow'. I do. I love it. Makes things easier and you can see how things naturally unfold. But, I reckon, it can become problematic when it gets taken too literally.

A flow, or a current, can be a dangerous thing! You can be taken for a ride and get bumped around onto rocks... along the banks... into on-coming debris...and not take notice of the oncoming waterfall...

BUT if you have a handy-dandy paddle, you can navigate your way around within in the current and be the captain of your own little boat!

Back to Oz

It's so strange to be back! After 12 months of back-breaking, mind-boggling, mental-hurdling work; 15 months of ab-tightening, face-breaking laughs; endless days of rivers, lakes and oceans of sweat and countless low-pressured showers...I'm home!

Last time I returned from Cambodia, I was a victim of reverse culture shock and was angry at everything. How dare we Australians live with such affluence over the safety net of our dole-bludging-condoning democratic government? How can you brag about the A-Grade leather of your couch when there are families selling their children for a meal?!

I didn't host any form of tolerance during my six month period of ambivalence in Melbourne. I was a bitter bitch bitchin' bout bloody everything..but this time is different...those things definitely still exist, but now I'm looking at things from another angle: How lucky we are as Australians to be able to have such lovely things at our fingertips with the support of a caring government who treats all of us as humans with rights. Good on you for being able to afford such a lovely leather couch...did the cows have to scream louder for that price?

Things are the way they are. The two worlds that I have each of my feet in can't be compared and be angry over. That energy should be channelled into the Developing side of my self/work to aspire to the Developed side of my self/work.

7 more weeks till my return, so to psych myself up and recharge, I'm going to enjoy what's readily available here in my 1st world that is unavailable in my 3rd world home: Indie gigs, Melbourne breakfasts, perfectly brewed lattes, Korean hairdressers, traffic rules and drinkable tap-water. ESPECIALLY the tap-water. I feel my teeth strengthening already.

P.A.S.S.I.O.N

I’m passionate.

I’m also many other things (like ‘tired’), but right now, ‘passionate’ can be used interchangeably with ‘Deb’. I believe having PASSION is a gift, a risk, a luxury and most importantly, a DUTY.

Firstly, it’s a GIFT because everyone is born and raised differently with different personae and frames of mind. We can be regimental, blasé, structured or go-with-the-flow about life and that’s perfectly fine. But it takes someone with edge to have the GUTS to have and pursue PASSION and that’s where RISK fits in.

We need to take a RISK when it comes to pursuing something we care so much about. PASSION is from the core of your being so if it ends up crashing and burning at the feet of our expectations…that’s going to hurt a bloody lot more than not taking the risk at all. Or will it?

Following your passion is a LUXURY because reality can be a wet-blanket for many people out there; money problems, family problems, health problems, lack of opportunities, lack of education… so to be free of those binding shackles already gives you grant for pursuit. You just need to give yourself permission.

And lastly it’s a DUTY. Years ago I came across a line in ‘The Dream Giver’ (yes, it’s a Christian book): ‘Your big dream is someone’s big need. If you don’t follow your big dream…someone’s need won’t be filled…’ Or something like that. And that’s when I had my epiphany.

My passion is education. My passion is life. My passion is to lift people out of mental hell-holes and provide intellectual tools for them to rebuild their livelihoods and recognize HOPE.

I’ve got a lot more to learn and a lot more to give. And as long as I feel this fire inside of me (that isn’t the impending angina) I’m spear-heading my ambitions until I’m damn-well satisfied!

The Swedish say, 'Congratulations! You've reached 25!'

I have reached the quarter milestone of my life. Assuming I’m going to live to be 100. Happy Birthday, Deb! Hellloooo age 25! The age everyone wishes to stay at: you’re still considered young but old enough to be ‘responsible’, you can be ‘irresponsible’ and still get away with it, but most importantly, according to general consensus, you can be single and still have a ‘chance’. *eye roll*/*shrug*

For me, it’s a great age because I feel that 25 is the tipping point of life, where you’re balancing at the fulcrum, with one foot on either side, weighing up gathered experience with where it’s going to lead you. It’s when you realize (or should realize) where you’re headed in life and have a somewhat blurred vision of where you want to end up. I keep talking in the second person like I can speak on behalf of anyone. I’m really talking about myself. So ‘ctrl F and H’, find ‘you’ and replace with ‘I’ or ‘me’.

So I’m teetering on this see-saw analogy, shifting my weight from right to left, left to right, and I’m feeling pretty happy with how I’ve lived so far. I’m living with drive and direction. Everything I did had a purpose behind it- to learn and move forward. I don’t exactly know where I’m going yet, but I see a haze in the distance and it somewhat resembles a house, a husband, a family and a meaningful, sustainable livelihood. In other words: a future nearly everyone wants!!! I’m not so eccentric after all!

At this point the path is still unfolding before me and uncertainty is still, and probably always will be, part of the adventure. I have enough confidence in my abilities and curious enough about the world to take deliberate steps into a realm of possibilities. 10 years ago, I thought at 25 I’d be ‘settled’ in the mainstream sense of the word. But I’m so glad that I’m not because it means I’ve got so much more to look forward to! I’m setting up the stones of my path, laboriously and joyously laying it down, bit by bit. And I have faith that momentum will pick up (in the form of Universal conspiracy) and it’ll eventually pave out smoothly, into a wide stretch of road welcoming those wanting (or fated) to join me.

Eeny Meeny, Miny, Mo

Decisions. We’ve all got to make them. Big, small, trivial and significant. Some people are good at them, some are bad at them. I’m starting to believe that I’ve become quite good at them. I can tell by the way I smile broadly every morning that I’m in a good position in my life and I’ve made the right independent choices to get to this point.

Of course, I didn’t start out like this. I was brought up to obey the decisions made for me. Yes, they were for my benefit and obviously at the time I was not yet of age or maturity to make the major decisions for myself. And despite it all leading to a good life-style anyway…it was completely unsatisfying because it wasn’t MY decision to live that way. I couldn’t take credit. I couldn’t have pride. I had no ownership. For me to find happiness, I had to take the reigns and make the choice for myself. I wanted to take a risk so that I could claim responsibility no matter how it turned out: good or bad. I'd either have myself to blame or claim the success for myself!

And then there’s the fear of making decisions. Or more accurately, the fear of making the wrong decision. It’s this potentially disabling fear that can stop a person in their tracks, take the low-risk path and disappear amongst the crowd of mediocrity. It is this barrier of decision making that filters the average from the awesome. Well, I think anyway.

I was given an awesome piece of off-handed advice from a dear cousin of mine, Henri.

‘Deb, there’s no such thing as the ‘wrong’ decision- just decisions that don’t work out. You can just go back, take on the new wisdom and try again.’

That simple sentence took away some of the fear for me, propelling me forth into a much more rewarding life.

Calculating risks. Courage to leap. Taking a chance. Zest to live.

When it comes to crunch, I always end up asking myself, ‘what would make the better story?’

What decision would make YOUR story better?

Why The Kingdom of Cambodia?

If I was asked 2 years ago ‘would you ever go to Cambodia?’ I would’ve shrugged and said ‘Cambo-where?’ I had no interest in the country at all. Its history, its country, its language…nothing. There was no deterrence, just no inherent interest. But Cambodia found me.

My initial interest in NGO work was stemmed by the guy I ran away with- my ‘good fortune’. He was the one who introduced me to the idea of humanitarianism. However, this interest didn’t evolve until I had resolved my restlessness on the Great Barrier Reef. I had the epic epiphany that this life of self serving indulgence wasn’t enough to sustain me (c'mon, I played on the beach every day and got paid for it) and I wanted to infuse more meaning into my life…by following my dream to fill someone’s need! The next step was how. What was my dream and what was the need?

2 weeks after my epiphany I was presented with the opportunity to go scuba diving for $20 with another guest on the island (oh the benefits of staff discount!). This guest was a sweet-looking Asian lady who I quickly connected with.

‘So, what are you going to do after the island?’

‘I’m thinking about doing some volunteer work with an NGO…just don’t know which NGO or what to do…’

‘Oh, I have a friend in Vietnam working for an NGO. They deal with displaced Vietnam War refugees who ended up in worse situations than they ran away from. Or something like that.’

The clouds opened up and the sunrays beamed around her. The angels sang. Doves flocked. The crowd went wild.

MY parents were refugees from the Vietnam War. THEY ran away from the same war as those people. But they were lucky and ended up in Australia. I was lucky to be born under THEIR parentage. There were still people out there living my parents’ past suffering!

I found the NGO online and an email address:

My name is Debra Ly. I have a Bachelor of Education and 6 months of my time to donate. Are there opportunities at present? Please let me know.

Hi Debra! Thank you for your expression of interest. We’ve just opened up a preschool in a Vietnamese Ep Chai slum village in Cambodia. You can run it! When can you get here??

Kingdom of Wonder? Why not?!

Previously on…LIFE

I’ve finally gotten around to reporting on the NOW. Hmm…actually not yet. I’m going to catch people up on how my NOW came about. This is a story I want to share because I believe everyone is destined to follow a path to serve a role and create and find meaning in one’s existence in this world.

Not many can do this, but I can pinpoint the exact date when everything changed. August 25^th, 2008. That was the foretold date of my coming of ‘good fortune’. (I was approached by an Indian fortune-teller 3 months previously who told me what I was thinking and stated 25/8…and then asked for $10).

On that fateful day, I received a text message from the new guy at work. ‘Let’s run away. We’ll get into your car and get lost in the sticks. It’ll be an adventure! =)’. That text represented a cross-road: yes or no.

Yes: runaway with a complete stranger from my cookie-cutter, spoon-fed life and open myself to a world of infinite possibilities.

No: stick to what I know and take the 5-lane freeway towards the white-picket fence all us middle-class, Asian, Catholic school-girls are conditioned for. (FYI, I’m spiritual, not religious)

mmm...YES.

I roamed Victoria, pitched my first tent, fell in love, climbed a mountain, flew to Queensland, got a job on a remote island on the Great Barrier Reef, fell out of love, connected with the nature, found the Universe, had an epiphany, sent an email, flew to Cambodia, ran a preschool in the slums of Siem Reap for displaced Vietnamese children, got kicked out of the country for ‘terrorism’, wallowed in ambivalence back in Melbourne, flew to India, landed again in Cambodia.

My first tent

My sunset life on the Island

The Island

My preschool kids

Henna tattoo in the mountains of Himachal

Cambodia round 2 with my new gang outside Angkor Wat (Unfortunately I can't post pictures of my current work due to its sensitive nature)

And now I’m Country Director of NGO Senhoa, providing vocational training and life-skills education for survivors of human-trafficking. All in a course of 2 years. I haven’t looked back once.

Wrapping India Up

I’ve been out of India now for nearly 8 months and haven’t even touched Cambodia, so it doesn’t make sense for me to keep slipping back in time and neglect reportage of the NOW (my blog’s title ‘Today’s a Gift’ for crying out loud!). I’m going to wrap up my Indian adventure and catch everyone up to my more recent goings-on. However, I do want it to be noted that my speed-blog on Mumbai no way justifies my experience there.

After the wedding, Karin and I were handballed over to the in-laws. We couldn’t have been welcomed more warmly. Kiwi’s new mother-in-law threw her arms out and crushed me against her big bosom and cupped my cheeks so that my lips made a fish-kiss, and told me to call her Aunty (by that point I had already adopted 5). For the next week in their cosy apartment, she proceeded to feed us the freshest, most deliciously prepared Indian meals YET.

The In-Laws

During our time with the Babbu family:

• we were taken to the National Park within Mumbai where temples were carved out of the natural rock

• taken on the Mumbai Safari. (awesome laughs and memories. How else can you pray at a Holy House of Hinduism and then get shipped to an entertainment centre to watch a 4-D children’s film, get caught in a monsoon down-pour, get sprayed by a toilet flush button AND watch sea turtles scrape against the glass of their1x2 meter tanks that was their new habitat?)

• weaved through the roaming cows on the wild streets

• drank fruit beer (with 0% fruit)

• welcomed the new neighbor (they lived across a cemetery)

• found out the meaning of ‘choda’

On my last day (10 July), I was accompanied to the airport by Anku, Meenu and Karin. It was a nice way to say goodbye…if I’d actually left. I was 20 minutes late for check-in so I was locked out and stranded from my flight out. The airport staff weren’t helpful in the least, constantly pointing me in different directions and finally made a cross with their arms in my face so that’d I’d get the message that I was clearly NOT GETTING ON THAT PLANE. Thank goodness I was not the only one though. Another family was fighting to get onto the same flight, but to no avail. Thank even MORE goodness that the father was generous enough to help me find a solution. I had no phone, no number to call, no cash, NO IDEA. I had a flight booked from Kuala Lumpur to Siem Reap the next day. I couldn’t afford to miss another flight! I had another dousing of kindness that day though. The father, Amil, went out of his way and looked up flights for me online (he had his laptop with a Dongle), made calls with his phone, convinced the security guards to let me pass to get to the international ATM, waited for me for 45 minutes (!!!) to get my new tickets to KL and double and triple checked that I had the right flights at the right prices. I was NOTHING to this man but he was so chivalrous and made sure I had a way out of India. 12 hours later (and bored out of my MIND) I was on my way to KL to my connecting flight to my awaiting life in Siem Reap, Cambodia.