I'm a pretty even-keel sort of guy, with a fairly predictable temperament. Usually. In this setting though, I've found that most days are a mix of two extremes. I go from angry days, when every slow jeepney and irrelevant conversation drives me crazy, I scoff at the dirty dogs running everywhere, and I end up scrutinizing everything from the size of the mosquitoes, (which are extremely well-fed) to the backyard trash heaps with unsorted recyclables. The other days are the sublime days, where I'm in the hippy-dippy mood of seeing the inherent worth in every little pebble, the wonderful smiles on faces, the place is infallible, rugged mountain vistas and glassy aquamarine waters are a backdrop to my, honestly, naïve outlook on things. The appropriate temperament, however, is no-doubt somewhere in between, where I should be able to simultaneously see the charm of this place, the people and natural features while remaining mindful of the faults that exist amongst the corruption, environmental shortcomings, and neglect of so many promising children.
As I talk to new volunteers who are in the first throes of their service, as well as friends who live here in this community, two questions frequent the dialogue at this point when I am transitioning out of the Philippines. The first question is, "What do you miss about home that you will have to do upon your return?" and the second, "What will you miss about this place when you have left?"
For the first question, I've settled on family, friends, public lands and the crunch of fall leaves under foot as the things that immediately come to mind when I think of what I most look forward to going back to. Ofcourse, there are also material things like public water fountains (with water I can trust), steaks at Outback, the smell of a gym, chlorinated water in a warm swimming pool, watching my breath accumulate into small clouds as I run early on a fall morning. The autonomy of traveling alone, the feel of new clothes, a warm shower, my own couch, a firm mattress, sweet tea and a thick slice of red tomato on good toast with cheddar cheese.
For the second question, I'd have to say I'll miss the friendliness of all the neighbors, saying hello to everyone here on balmy mornings and blustery afternoons, the intimate rides to town on cool mornings, and riding back from town in the evenings, hitched to the back of a jeep, looking up at a starry evening sky, the last flecks of a pink sunset outlining the western mountains and the prickly coconut leaves in the foreground, the smell of cooking fires coming from little roadside nipa huts. I'll miss being part of a barcada with the fishermen, sitting around with a glass of coconut wine listening to their chatter of fishing and women, all in a little-known foreign tongue that I'll never hear again, much less have any use for speaking, except under my breath when not wishing to be understood.
We all probably have a problem with being satisfied, especially us westerners. We're either thinking of a way to get away from our present condition, or longingly singing of the Green Green Grass of Home. We forget about the good things about where we are, and forgetfully long for what we don't have, with no recollection for the associated hardships. A lot of people have a problem finding satisfaction, myself totally included. It's probably what drives us to be so successful, always upward and onward to the next best thing, without much of a respite to pause and observe all the blessings of the present. Exploration of the new world and manifest destiny and space exploration probably all exhibit some of this lack of satisfaction with the status quo, never accepting that the present is the ultimate existence in Western Culture. Well, what if the present is the best it will be? Would that really be so bad? How would we live differently? Imagine all the anxiety that would subside if we didn't have some itching desire to be bigger and better.
Everything in moderation as the maxim goes. How 'bout having satisfaction enough to be pleased with a good situation, without the ambition that excessively drives us to work, work, work, while maintaining enough innovation and drive to rectify a situation if in dire need of hard work. I get really irritated on my angry days walking around wondering how my neighbors can continue to live in filth and watch as their children feign attending school. I can't believe how anyone could be satisfied with a situation like that. On the flip side, I watch news from home and people with healthy families and beautiful homes jump to their death when the stock market takes a dive. Why can't they just be satisfied with a great existence and shrug off a bad day on the S&P? Everything in moderation, including satisfaction.
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