On Solitude: Untitled
This morning we welcomed the first snow of this winter. The change of the scene and the implication of the end of the year caught me a bit off guard as it blatantly pushes me to reflect upon the time I’ve spent in this foreign city, the last time I see snow and the last winter I had in this city. The past fades too quickly that it took me a while to remember.
Before I packed my life in a suitcase and flew myself to the other end of the world, I went along with my friends to see a medium. Not with candles, tarots or crystal balls but a Jitong. The earthly chosen vehicle for (one of the many) God’s voice. I don’t believe in them in general. I believe in climate change, the earth is round and science. I believe only you can know about yourself and hold control over your future. I believe nurture over nature. I believe in conscious choices. Yet at the same time, I believe a higher force exists in the universe. I visit temples and pray. I believe everything happens for a (good) reason. Life is never black and white.
So I went along because I was too curious not to. As an important part of the folk religion, almost every Taiwanese, more or less, has encounters with them. So I sat down discreetly, not knowing what to do, waiting for him to say something. Of course, no one said anything. I have to ask something first.
People look for mediums for guidance in their lives. I wasn’t there to seek guidance; I always knew or thought I knew what I was doing. I was there to fill my curiosity. But with my departure date approaching, I asked the question that had been hovering on my mind for a while: is it good for me to settle down in a foreign land? I mean, for good?
“No.”
Then there’s a long pause. He’s not very good at having conversations. I asked him why.
“Because you’re too unbending. You cannot stand to be the second or the third or the last in foreign lands, but in some ways you will be, so eventually you will come back. Rootlessly. Staying will be better for you.”
Pretty sure I’ve raised my eyebrows, deciding if I should pretend to be surprised that no one has ever said that to me before or just acknowledge it. I said nothing.
He gifted me two words, humility. That’s a two-word noun in my language. In response to my question: how can I be less unbending, he told me to listen.
“Listen to what others are saying to you. Stay humble.”
The night was sleepless. The sociocultural analysis of this event in my mind can become a mini-book. Of course, I didn’t listen. I left with a fashion that I won’t be coming back anytime soon. And the feeling of finally getting away is by far the best freedom I’ve ever had and I felt like I’m finally in a right place. Yet I thought about that conversation from time to time, more often when I felt like I was lagging behind, that I need to be better and better relentlessly. I would think about how certain he was when he uttered the word “too unbending” when he barely knew me and how I would take pride in that statement and then I would think about those two words and then I would soften up a little bit and then things would kind of make sense.
Maybe, eventually, it has nothing to do with what he has said, leaving or staying, settling or wandering, a better or a worse choice. Maybe, we just need to grasp that sense of somethingness. A sense of meaning. A sense of acceptance. A sense of explanation. A sense of self-affirmation. So that we won’t get drowned by time, life events, thoughts, by our own existence.
Maybe maybe.
— Jotted down on 30th of November, Sofia
