Looking backwards to see the future

July 7, 2018

I left Cambodia in December of 2013 to go to grad school in the US. I never dreamed that I would be away for so long. So much has changed both for me personally and for the country of Cambodia, yet somehow there is still so much that feels the the same. Not a single day has passed since I left that I have not thought about the people I love in Cambodia and the country as a whole. Tomorrow I will fly back to Cambodia to visit for a month. At this moment there are a multitude of mixed emotions and thoughts running through my mind.

Here's something you may not know; one of the last conversations I had with my father was me telling him that I was leaving to go to Cambodia and serve in the Peace Corps. My father served two tours in the Vietnam War and recounted his experience of warfare in the Cambodian jungle; I assured him that my service would be nothing like that, but he remained firm that I should be careful. That was the day before I left Georgia. Six days after I arrived in Cambodia, I was called into a room by one of the senior staff members with a serious look on her face; I thought I was in trouble or that I had done something wrong. Instead she told me that my father died the day before. It is still beyond me to be able to put into words what I felt. I flew back to the states for two weeks for my father's funeral and then hopped on a plane to come back to Cambodia. It was surreal to say the least. Between the shock of losing my dad, the jet lag of flying to and from and back to Cambodia 3 times in a 3 week period, and immediately moving in with a family in Traing district, Takeo province that literally spoke no English, everything felt like a blur. It was disorienting and there was an underlying sense that everything had changed.

There was nothing to do in Traing district and the family I lived with had no electricity, indoor plumbing, or much else of material development. They did however have patient and loving hearts and they went out of their way to welcome me and help me learn how to live in rural Cambodia. I can clearly remember the first morning I woke up and walked down to the outdoor kitchen area to eat breakfast and Mi Yim (my host mother) started laughing with a few other family members and recounting in Khmer (which I didn't speak at the time) that they could hear me praying Buddhist prayers in Pali language before I went to bed and they thought this was fantastic since they too were Buddhists. It may sound strange, but that was really the root of Cambodia becoming "home" for me. With so much radical change in my life at that time, I took solace in my faith, the stillness of the the rural countryside at night, and the warmhearted generosity of the family that took me in.

My thoughts and experiences in Cambodia are reflected in blog posts that I wrote years ago, but there is something calling me back to a level of openness now on the eve of returning to Cambodia. When I went back to Georgia for my father's funeral I knew that I had lost any sense of being at "home" there. Everything and every place was forever stained with the memory of my father and growing up as his son and namesake in an Irish-Catholic community. Cambodia was something new, a blank canvas where I was forced to look at who I am when everything else is gone and there are no narratives or stories from the past to define me. In the countryside of rural Cambodia, I grieved and I learned. I grieved the loss of my father and I learned that he will always be a part of who I am; I learned to honor his memory in a way that made sense to me. I grieved the loss of who I thought I had been, a troubled kid with a rocky past, and learned that I was someone entirely different. I found peace in the simplicity of rural life and purpose in the effort to simply be helpful in a community and country filled with poverty and a recent history of tremendous violence and loss. Some philosopher said "You can never step in the same river twice." The young man that first signed up to join the Peace Corps and the man that returned to the states to attend grad school 4 years later were not the same. With everything stripped away, I discovered the simple things in life that held the greatest meaning.

Tomorrow I'll get on a plane to go to a country that was "home" the last time I was there and that has lived on as "home" in my thoughts and memories. With a fancy degree, a successful career, and more material stuff than I have ever had or needed, I am looking forward to shedding it all. In academia and professionally there is always a push to improve, do more, and always be looking forward. For me, Cambodia is the reminder that none of that really matters. Just be. Be present. Be compassionate. Be amazed. Be loving. Simply be.

I left Cambodia to go to grad school, certain that I would be back there as soon as I was done; I could picture a life there. I still can, but now there are question marks too. As a Peace Corps Volunteer and later as an NGO worker, I found answers to questions I didn't even know I had. Going back now, I hope that "home" can provide more answers in the stillness of the countryside night, the green hues of the rice fields, the Pali prayers of the Buddhist wats, and the smiling faces of loved ones.