Off the Mountain, and into a Valley
The
Mountain
It started high in the
Himalayas.
Long before I even knew
what a “bucket list” was, this certainly qualified to be on any list of mine.
Near the end of June
1985, I had just finished my teaching contract at a university in southern
China. I had fist-full of renminbi,
which I had been accumulating for well over a year. And since the currency was only recognized
within China, I had to spend it, or lose it.
So, I decided to head to the interior of China; wander with a backpack;
see sights; take pictures; and go until I ran out of cash.
It was a bohemian’s
dream.
Yet, for me, I wasn’t
really being bohemian. I was just being
me. It made practical sense to see
things while I was there. I had an
opportunity for some “hands-on” learning of Chinese geography, culture, and
history. I just had to do it. There was no way that I could not. So, off I went - alone and without much of a
planned itinerary. I did what was
starting to become a natural reaction. I headed west.
And in the process, I
ended up in Tibet.
In the summer of 1985,
independent travelers were being allowed into Tibet for the first time, so I
jumped on that bandwagon.
I knew little about
Buddhism. I saw some of the 700 room
palace of the exiled Dali Lama called the Potala. I huffed and puffed my way up to 15,000’ to a
monastery, and saw the fluttering “prayer flags” – intended to send prayers to
the heavens as the winds blew. I saw the
grounds for the “sky burial” littered with bones of the departed, picked clean
by the birds - in hopes of being taken to the sky.
I wandered to the main
temple – the Jokhang. It was there, that
I felt a cloud of spiritual darkness. Winkled,
emaciated, and dying elderly people were crawling, and prostrating themselves
to earn their way to the afterlife. My
soul was filled with sorrow for the hopelessness I felt. For
the first time in my life, I grieved for the spiritual condition of someone
that I did not know.
Of all the things I
experienced while living in, and traveling through China, the time I spent quietly
standing outside that temple in Tibet impacted me the deepest. It was a poignant moment, which moved me to
take stock of my own spiritual life.
And, while I thoroughly enjoyed wandering through the interior regions
of China, and I have tons of memories, this one has lingered with me the
longest.
The Valley
 |
| The Li River, Guilin |
It
was also unsustainable.
Towards the end of 1985,
I finally plummeted into a major valley.
I crashed full bore into cross-cultural reentry back into US culture, as
I sought to readjust to life in the United States.
I had gone through
cross-cultural reentry before - back in 1978 after the Dominican Republic. I felt confident that I was prepared for it. I knew that I needed to readjust to my native
culture. But, I didn’t know that a
valley was good for me. I had been
freewheeling for over a dozen years, and it was time to be dependent; take
stock of my life; and learn some valuable things from God and others.
On
top of reentry stress, I was lonely. I wanted an answer. I wanted a wife. Or, I wanted to be content
being single, and stop worrying about it.
I was 31, and I decided that if I wasn’t married before I was 33, then I
was going to move on. I put an
“expiration date” on my quest for a wife. It was October 1987. No kidding!
I
was demoted. I didn’t have a job. Therefore, I was unemployed. So, I devised a “self-employed” position for
myself. I designed a business card and called myself a “China Consultant”. Even I
am not really sure of the job description.
I gave talks and some “slide presentations” on China. I made a little money. But mostly, I presented myself as being an
entrepreneur, instead of being jobless.
I
was sick. I had a nagging cough. Due to molds, allergies, and air quality in
tropical southern China, I was sick a lot.
I was sick for two weeks, about every three weeks. Then I traveled for months and pushed
myself. I was tired and physically worn
out.
Finally, I was broke. I had
shot my wad of cash.
I was in a very
dependent state. And that’s right where
God wanted me. He had some valuable
things to teach me about trusting and relying on him.
Stay
tuned: The focus of the next four posts is on this two-year valley. I
grow a lot, and I affectionately call this next group of stories “Getting thru the
Daze”.
Upcoming Posts:
April
11: My Daze with Art!
April
25: Three Families
& a Rock Band
May
9: God Uses a
Motorcycle
May
23: Why Are You
Resistant to Counseling?
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