The life wisdom imprinted on me by a Cambodian Survivor
Today’s post is courtesy of the talented writer, Ta Hiron, who authors Notes my heart wrote, an inspiring collection of poetic explorations of the world and our place in it.
I have this dream of going down this sunny beachside road. I am in the driver's seat; the ocean is on my left, and green rolling hills are on my right. It is relaxed, and I am heading somewhere I cannot see, but I know I want to be. Then, as I gaze out the left window, out over the ocean, the calm waters begin to roughen, and white caps appear on growing waves. The sky starts to darken. In the distance, closing in far too quickly, are towering dark grey clouds, heavy and fierce, already bursting around the edges with pouring rain. On my right, a road appears ahead. I can glance far enough to see that it heads back into the sun, and I try to steer towards it. As I turn the steering wheel, I realise it makes no difference to the car's direction. I put on the break, which again makes no difference. I am getting frantic as the sunny road passes me. Then, with the option to turn off passed, it dawns on me that I might not choose this road ahead, but it is the one I am on.
This article stands on the shoulders of Sarah's article, But first, align yourself, in which Sarah talks about the illusion of control and how difficult that can be. Also, how we can know we have good things we are grateful for, but that we can still yearn for things to be different.
My dream is about this lack of control and my grappling with that. It can be a real struggle to come to terms with life as it veers off in one direction that isn't where we had hoped it might go. I went through a divorce at thirty. At thirty, I had hoped to have young kids and be going on family adventures. Only I was on that dark stormy road, wondering how I had lost the sunny ideal of life I thought I was headed into.
That storm was how my mind felt, and I had to come to terms with the fact that I played my part and had to get better at life and love if I was going to have another go, which I fully intended on doing.
Over the years leading up to and during my divorce, I had lost my way and myself. I came out of it not knowing what I wanted in life or even in my music playlist. Things hadn’t added up in life. Freshly single, I decided that my approach was to begin subtracting until I got back to something meaningful from which I could rebuild. The subtracting started physically by reducing all I owned to five boxes and moving three states down the Australian East Coast, from sunny Queensland to wintery Tasmania.
After the shine of all that wore off, I realised I still wasn't home in myself. So, I travelled out into the world to find my way home within. I booked a tour to Cambodia for my first solo overseas trip.
Observing the people of Cambodia living with the lingering repercussions of the Khmer Rouge's rule from 1975 to 1979, it struck me how recent 1979 was. I was born in 1983 and that was only four years before my lifetime that such tragedy occurred.
As my tour ended in the Genocide Museum, I couldn't help but notice an elderly man sweeping. As I stood there, caught in something about him, the tour guide noticed and told us that this man had been tortured here. I got out a shocked, gaspy 'what, why?!' disbelief and astonishment competing in my tone. 'Because he wants to ensure the truth about what happened is told. And please…' the guide trailed off, saying to everyone and no one, 'No more war, please.'
This man had an awful storm to drive through in life. He held peace in himself enough to come back here daily. He took it upon himself to embrace that his life path after all of this was to tell the truth of it. The protection of the truth is what called him to help others possibly avoid such a situation. He was the strongest man I may have ever met. It struck me that inner strength in him is what held my gaze initially. He was wise, peaceful, and softly spoken, yet it was all done with such strength to behold.
I spent the next few days of the tour walking through temples, coming to terms with all of this. It shone a light on my desire to control and change things that I couldn't which caused me distress. All I could do, like the man in the museum, was listen within for what I was called to in this new place in my life.
So, as Sarah says, I began to return to what I could do, refocusing my attention away from things I couldn’t. As I did that, I found space for listing within and began working on giving myself space. Giving myself time to recover and take stock was something I could do and would allow me to find my way home within to my own inner strength, which was always there, only had been clouded by the storm. I am the sky. The clouds can come and go but they are not me. I can rebuild from here, from within by listening…
I listen
Not for anything that can be heard
Not a single audible word
A whisper from within
Telling me in which direction to begin.
~
This article is a guest post by Ta Hiron who writes Notes my Heart Wrote where she explores the meaning of life, how to live with the mess of love and what our unique path in life asks of our dance with self.
All photos has been supplied by Ta Hiron and are her own taken on her Cambodian trip.