the places that scare you

 

When I was in basic training in North Carolina in 1970, the highlight of the day was when we got letters from home. Other than the time that was allotted for polishing our boots or cleaning our weapons, it was about the only time of the day when we actually had some free time.

More than 30 years later, I got the same thrill about getting letters from home when I was in China. Although my daughter was with me for part of the year, I spent more than 6 months in 2004 living in China by myself. One of the books that my sister sent to me was “The Places That Scare You”, which was written by a Buddhist nun named Pema Chodron.

Here is the summary that was posted on Amazon:

 

Lifelong guidance for learning to change the way we relate to the scary and difficult moments of our lives, showing us how we can use all of our difficulties and fears as a way to soften our hearts and open us to greater kindness.

We always have a choice in how we react to the circumstances of our lives. We can let them harden us and make us increasingly resentful and afraid, or we can let them soften us and allow our inherent human kindness to shine through. Here Pema Chödrön provides essential tools for dealing with the many difficulties that life throws our way, teaching us how to awaken our basic human goodness and connect deeply with others—to accept ourselves and everything around us complete with faults and imperfections. She shows the strength that comes from staying in touch with what’s happening in our lives right now and helps us unmask the ways in which our egos cause us to resist life as it is. If we go to the places that scare us, Pema suggests, we just might find the boundless life we’ve always dreamed of.

The last place I worked in China was the College of International Studies, which was located well north of the city of Guangzhou. To get there from my apartment in Guangzhou Country Gardens, I needed to walk a few blocks to the bus stop in the complex, where I caught a bus that took me to the White Star Hotel in what amounted to be downtown Guangzhou. From there, I could with take another bus to the main bus terminal on the west side of town, where I could catch another bus to get to the college.

From start to finish, the commute was roughly 3 hours each way. As a result, I took the bus north on Monday afternoon, and stayed at the college on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights. On Thursday afternoon, I reversed the process.

When I got back to the main bus stop, I could either take another bus back to the White Star hotel, or I could ride on the back of a motorcycle, which both Kelly and I had done numerous times.

On one occasion, I felt confident enough that I felt I could negotiate a cheaper price from the dozens or so motorcycles that were parked there, and I eventually achieved what I wanted - which should have been a warning.

When the driver took off, he went a different direction than I thought that he should have, so for a few minutes, I assumed that he was taking a shortcut. As we got further away from the hotel, though, I realized that I had a made a serious mistake by jumping on the back of the cycle, but I was far enough along that jumping off and walking back was not a solution either.

As we meandered further away from where I wanted to go, he made a couple of phone calls when he made stops for a light. Eventually, we wound up in an area that was less inhabited, and he pulled into a lot next to a couple of manufacturing buildings. Almost immediately, one of the buddies that he called on the phone charged out, and quickly took a punch to my face, which split my lip, and caused my glasses to fall off. Inside the back pack that I had been carrying was my dirty laundry for the week, a few papers, and the book that I had finished reading that afternoon, which happened to be “The Places That Scare You”, a bit ironic, since I was now in a place that DID scare me.

They got my phone, my wallet, and my back pack with my dirty laundry, and took off.

After my glasses got knocked off, I could not find them in the dark, so I gave up.

Fortunately, I was close to a busy road, so I walked to it and stuck out my thumb.

Since I looked a bit disheveled, and had blood on my shirt, a passing motorist felt sorry for me, and picked me up. In Chinese, I explained to him that I needed to get back to the White Star hotel, which he did. Since I no longer had my wallet, I explained to the bus driver at the hotel that I had been robbed, so I was able to ride back home at no charge.

I had planning on going to a Toastmaster meeting that night, so as soon as I got home, I called my friend Sayed Hahoub, and told him I would not be attending that night.

Within an hour, Sayed and few other of my friends came to my apartment. They then went with me to the local hospital, where Sayed paid for my treatment and my medicine. To the folks who think all Muslims are killers, they can kiss my ass.

 Since the next day was a Friday, I did not have to go to work, but I DID go in the following Monday, where I explained to the students that I could not see them.

The following weekend, my friend Maggie Woo went with me to the optician so that I could get new glasses, which is that pair that I wore for the next few months. Since the lenses were fairly thick, some of the managers at The Autobarn called me “Mister Magoo” until I could afford to buy more stylish glasses.

If you believe in ironies, you’ll appreciate that fact that on the afternoon that I finished “The Place That Scare You” on the bus that I found my self at a location that DID scare me.

I stayed in China for roughly six months after that, at which point, I returned to the Chicago area. However, for the remainder  to my time in country, I never again rode on the back of a motorcycle.

 Fortunately, our local library has a copy of the book in their shelves, so I put it on hold today. 

It should bring back a lot of memories.