Freedom

Source: charmedyoga.com

Less than a week ago I was one of the pasty tourists all crammed up in a bus driving along from Saigon to the Cu Chi tunnels. Our guide, Minh, was older than the usual guides and his English was a strange mix of real and invented words, making it difficult for us to understand more than 50% of what he was saying.

I didn't take too much notice to his discourse (I don't really buy all the tour guides' propaganda selling fabricated stuff to tourists who take them for valuable stories and experiences) until I found out that this guy has been in the war. Yes, he was 70 years old and the first Vietnam war veteran I have ever met. Turns out he fought alongside the Americans and spent 6 months in an underground tunnel until the war ended. He thought he was going to die there. And yet there he was, more alive than half of the people snoozing on the bus, talking about something he would probably much rather forget, because it was his job.

I tried to imagine Minh, at 25, surrounded by blood, dirt and bomb shells, holding hands with an American soldier the same age as him, both wondering from which direction was Death coming to get them. Death never came his way. It let him live so he can tell war stories to tourists half-listening, half-wondering what will they have for dinner later. I tried to imagine the jungle at Cu Chi with sweaty soldiers marching carefully not to step on traps, wondering if they ever thought the very ground they were walking on will one day rustle under flip-flops and trainers of people coming to see what the Vietnam war was all about.

'Do you think we have no freedom in Vietnam?' Minh asked. 'Let me tell you, we have as much freedom as you. We all live in a cage. Only that your cage is bigger than our cage.'

I watched him in bewilderment. He was absolutely right. We live our lives ignoring the edges of our freedom bubble. Here I was in Vietnam, set free from my cage, knowing that I'll have to return to it at curfew. It made me wonder, how free are we really? What choices could I make in my life? Could I escape my cage and run wild like the wind or could I just accept living in a cage and free myself through non-resistance. Could I really be one of these people who pack their lives in a suitcase and buy a one way ticket, with destination WORLD?

I've met a lot of people during this trip who have quit their jobs and went travelling. I've met a lot of people in search for a higher meaning to their lives. I'm one of these people, searching, never satisfied with a comfortable cage. I wonder if it's because we've never been in a war or lived through something extreme. If we did, it would probably teach us to stay put and be content with our cages, whether big or small. But there must be a reason to our search for meaning. Maybe all the wars in the world had a purpose...

I think Minh said it all smiling with all his crooked teeth: 'Smile and be happy that you're alive! That's all!'

Dissertation... for the last time

I certainly underestimated the proportions of the dissertation. I thought it would be quite an easy job as it was suppose to be around 40 pages. In reality though it took a long time and it was created with a lot of frustration. At the end I don't even feel proud of myself... Just drained and happy to be over with.
Though probably the worst part was the logistics of it. I aimed to hand it in today as it was the day before last and didn't want to really leave it until the very last moment... However, it turned out that I tried to bind the first two copied by myself and didn't do such a good job and ruined the second copies by accidentally printing it with another font and messing up the layout. I only discovered that on my way to uni. I had to go back and print another two copies and bind them again (it must be for the last time as I am running out of time anyway...). I was so nervous and stressed and thought that I probably deserved it as I didn't quite give it the importance it probably deserved...
Now I was going trough it again and noticed a spelling mistake right on the cover... It figures... I can only try and fix it tomorrow, but if I can't, I'll have to hand it in like that and simply pray that no one will notice...
I only wish to pass and close this chapter in my life. I realized that I did a Masters in PR and hope never to work in PR... How funny is that? After all, Gaugain himself was a succesfull broker until he decided to go to Tahiti and paint. So, world has seen worse. Or actually better :)