After all this time, I finally booked my plane tickets on Saturday. One-way flight out of Hong Kong, return date unknown.
It's been over a year now since I handed in my resignation letter at the Bank, in order to travel round the world and pursue my dreams of microfinance and social enterprise. The long months of pain, planning and anticipation were being validated, the dream was finally becoming real.
Except that this moment was not at all how I'd pictured it. Instead of elation, I've been gripped by an onsetting apprehension. Through a filter of cloudy grey, a million details and worst-case scenarios have been flying in and out of my mind, building up into a wall of anxiety surrounding me. Maybe it was all the risk management I've been focused on lately: insurance coverage and claims procedures, pickpocket prevention, situational awareness, how to spot and avoid scams, emergency consulate contact points, traveler horror stories. Maybe it was my Dad's unreal paranoid depictions finally finding a foothold of pessimism.
Or maybe it's because today is Halloween.
In any case, I've spent the last few days juggling with the myriad last-minute adjustments of my growing to-do list, feeling unprepared and panicky as I came up with more and mores bases I haven't covered. Meanwhile, messages have been coming in from all over as friends expressed their excitement and/or jealousy. Inquiries naturally followed as to what my plans are, where I'm going, what I'll be doing.
The truth is, beyond that single ticket I booked, I really can't say for sure what will happen next. I have a rough idea of where I want to go and what I want to do, but the only thing in black and white is that plane ticket. Originally I had planned my trip with Bangladesh as the focal point, since it was the work of Muhammad Yunus and the Grameen Bank that sparked my inspiration and passion for microfinance years ago. I had assumed that after training with Grameen, that the experience and contacts would thereafter carry the momentum forward and my trip would take shape accordingly. But despite my best efforts, I could not get into Grameen's training program in Dhaka. This was due to internal (and political) issues that Grameen is facing in Bangladesh, a microcosm of the troubles and backlash to microfinance as a global movement.
This has left me with no anchor, either in purpose or geography. I may not have admitted it even to myself, but the let down has ultimately been the hardest pill to swallow, casting a shadow on the whole trip. It was in pursuit of a dream and a cause that I sacrificed my relationship, my job, my security and even my health. Now I could no longer see the same dream clearly, as if too many ripples were marring the surface of the pond. Doubts began to creep in as to whether I'm doing the right thing, whether I even know what I'm doing.
All these thoughts weighed heavily on me until my Mom came home from work and we got to talking. She proceeded to tell me about something unusual that happened to her yesterday. An ex-colleague named Linda Tong came unexpectedly to Jockey Club Sarah Roe School (where my Mom works) to visit her. Linda was working as a supply nurse for the day next door at King George V school (incidentally where I went to high school). Mom hadn't seen this woman for over five years, and they hadn't previously been particularly close. She was thus surprised when Linda said that she missed my Mom and came expressly to see how she was doing.
They caught up over lunch, and shared what's been happening in the last few years since they'd been in touch. As the conversation progressed Linda told a story about her friend's son, who we'll call Jack. Jack grew up in Hong Kong and went to Stanford to study medicine. A filial and capable son, he graduated accordingly and returned home from America, asking his mother what she wanted him to do next. His mother replied, "Well why don't you go study law in England. The family has the money and you don't need to work yet." Faithfully he went to Oxford and studied law, then returned from England after graduation and asked again what his parents wanted him to do. When his mother replied that she didn't know, Jack said, "I've done everything you asked me to do in life. Now I'm going to do what I want to do. I want to be a monk."
Of course his parents were shocked to hear this, but Jack gave himself a year. During this time, he stayed in Hong Kong and taught at HKU, saving up a sum of money. When the year was out, he told his parents that he would not be giving them any of his earnings, because they didn't need it. Instead he bought a container full of computers and went to a poor area of southern Taiwan, where he donated the computers to children in need and taught them how to use them. Making use of his medical background he also helped the children as a doctor. It made him incredibly happy to do so, but soon afterwards he proceeded to a Buddhist monastery in the area, seeking to be the disciple of a famous Abbott.
The Abbott rejected him, thinking that the life of a monk was not suited for this handsome young man, born into a family of affluence and so well educated. Jack however was undeterred, and kneeled in front of the temple for several days, until the Abbott began to have second thoughts. Still unsure as to Jack's determination, the Abbott told Jack that he could become a disciple of the monastery for a one year trial period, and would not have to shave his head as a full monk in the meantime. If after a year he decided to go back to his old life he could. Jack told the Abbott that he'd already made up his mind and that he wouldn't change it. He shaved his own head and joined the order.
Thereafter his mother would go see him every year, but after a few years Jack dissuaded her from doing so any more. He knew it pained her to see her son as a monk, sleeping on the street, unkempt and malnourished. In the letters he wrote her however, he was both content and happy with his life and to this day Jack has been with the monastery for seven years.
Whether this story is true or not is irrelevant. What is important is that a message was delivered to Mom out of the blue, who then relayed it to me in my moment of need. The parallels with my own life are apparent, albeit in a more extreme form.
As we continued chatting, Mom recalled all the hardship and humiliation I'd suffered during the winter months to overcome my eczema and steroid withdrawal. Though it was a trial for the whole family, it was a process she saw as a necessary tempering of steel for both my resolve and my body. She reminded me that I am going out into the world to fulfill God's plan for me, and that whatever happens next will be according to that plan. I may not always see or even agree with it, but as long as I am humble enough to accept it, things will turn out fine.
I'm not worried anymore. I remember now why I'm doing this in the first place, and though the destination is unknown, I will cherish every moment of the journey with an open mind, an open heart and open eyes.
I'm ready to go.
It's been over a year now since I handed in my resignation letter at the Bank, in order to travel round the world and pursue my dreams of microfinance and social enterprise. The long months of pain, planning and anticipation were being validated, the dream was finally becoming real.
Except that this moment was not at all how I'd pictured it. Instead of elation, I've been gripped by an onsetting apprehension. Through a filter of cloudy grey, a million details and worst-case scenarios have been flying in and out of my mind, building up into a wall of anxiety surrounding me. Maybe it was all the risk management I've been focused on lately: insurance coverage and claims procedures, pickpocket prevention, situational awareness, how to spot and avoid scams, emergency consulate contact points, traveler horror stories. Maybe it was my Dad's unreal paranoid depictions finally finding a foothold of pessimism.
Or maybe it's because today is Halloween.
In any case, I've spent the last few days juggling with the myriad last-minute adjustments of my growing to-do list, feeling unprepared and panicky as I came up with more and mores bases I haven't covered. Meanwhile, messages have been coming in from all over as friends expressed their excitement and/or jealousy. Inquiries naturally followed as to what my plans are, where I'm going, what I'll be doing.
The truth is, beyond that single ticket I booked, I really can't say for sure what will happen next. I have a rough idea of where I want to go and what I want to do, but the only thing in black and white is that plane ticket. Originally I had planned my trip with Bangladesh as the focal point, since it was the work of Muhammad Yunus and the Grameen Bank that sparked my inspiration and passion for microfinance years ago. I had assumed that after training with Grameen, that the experience and contacts would thereafter carry the momentum forward and my trip would take shape accordingly. But despite my best efforts, I could not get into Grameen's training program in Dhaka. This was due to internal (and political) issues that Grameen is facing in Bangladesh, a microcosm of the troubles and backlash to microfinance as a global movement.
This has left me with no anchor, either in purpose or geography. I may not have admitted it even to myself, but the let down has ultimately been the hardest pill to swallow, casting a shadow on the whole trip. It was in pursuit of a dream and a cause that I sacrificed my relationship, my job, my security and even my health. Now I could no longer see the same dream clearly, as if too many ripples were marring the surface of the pond. Doubts began to creep in as to whether I'm doing the right thing, whether I even know what I'm doing.
All these thoughts weighed heavily on me until my Mom came home from work and we got to talking. She proceeded to tell me about something unusual that happened to her yesterday. An ex-colleague named Linda Tong came unexpectedly to Jockey Club Sarah Roe School (where my Mom works) to visit her. Linda was working as a supply nurse for the day next door at King George V school (incidentally where I went to high school). Mom hadn't seen this woman for over five years, and they hadn't previously been particularly close. She was thus surprised when Linda said that she missed my Mom and came expressly to see how she was doing.
They caught up over lunch, and shared what's been happening in the last few years since they'd been in touch. As the conversation progressed Linda told a story about her friend's son, who we'll call Jack. Jack grew up in Hong Kong and went to Stanford to study medicine. A filial and capable son, he graduated accordingly and returned home from America, asking his mother what she wanted him to do next. His mother replied, "Well why don't you go study law in England. The family has the money and you don't need to work yet." Faithfully he went to Oxford and studied law, then returned from England after graduation and asked again what his parents wanted him to do. When his mother replied that she didn't know, Jack said, "I've done everything you asked me to do in life. Now I'm going to do what I want to do. I want to be a monk."
Of course his parents were shocked to hear this, but Jack gave himself a year. During this time, he stayed in Hong Kong and taught at HKU, saving up a sum of money. When the year was out, he told his parents that he would not be giving them any of his earnings, because they didn't need it. Instead he bought a container full of computers and went to a poor area of southern Taiwan, where he donated the computers to children in need and taught them how to use them. Making use of his medical background he also helped the children as a doctor. It made him incredibly happy to do so, but soon afterwards he proceeded to a Buddhist monastery in the area, seeking to be the disciple of a famous Abbott.
The Abbott rejected him, thinking that the life of a monk was not suited for this handsome young man, born into a family of affluence and so well educated. Jack however was undeterred, and kneeled in front of the temple for several days, until the Abbott began to have second thoughts. Still unsure as to Jack's determination, the Abbott told Jack that he could become a disciple of the monastery for a one year trial period, and would not have to shave his head as a full monk in the meantime. If after a year he decided to go back to his old life he could. Jack told the Abbott that he'd already made up his mind and that he wouldn't change it. He shaved his own head and joined the order.
Thereafter his mother would go see him every year, but after a few years Jack dissuaded her from doing so any more. He knew it pained her to see her son as a monk, sleeping on the street, unkempt and malnourished. In the letters he wrote her however, he was both content and happy with his life and to this day Jack has been with the monastery for seven years.
Whether this story is true or not is irrelevant. What is important is that a message was delivered to Mom out of the blue, who then relayed it to me in my moment of need. The parallels with my own life are apparent, albeit in a more extreme form.
As we continued chatting, Mom recalled all the hardship and humiliation I'd suffered during the winter months to overcome my eczema and steroid withdrawal. Though it was a trial for the whole family, it was a process she saw as a necessary tempering of steel for both my resolve and my body. She reminded me that I am going out into the world to fulfill God's plan for me, and that whatever happens next will be according to that plan. I may not always see or even agree with it, but as long as I am humble enough to accept it, things will turn out fine.
I'm not worried anymore. I remember now why I'm doing this in the first place, and though the destination is unknown, I will cherish every moment of the journey with an open mind, an open heart and open eyes.
I'm ready to go.
