November 2018

People do lots of things in the name of God. People kill each other, steal each other’s possessions and spit on each other. People also serve free food to those who are hungry, shake the hands of strangers and even, recently, go to a remote island filled with natives who dutifully kill anyone who approaches them.

So, perhaps it shouldn’t be so surprising to me that so many people go into debt in the name of God. And what I’m talking about, of course, is Christmas.

Across the globe from my American hometown, here in Melbourne, Australia, I see a few Black

Tucked away in a box at a friend’s house, I admit that I kept the advent calendar that my grandmother made. At the end of the month, I wrap every ornament with the same bits of tissue paper I did when I was 5.

Friday ads and holiday decorations popping up. That’s to be expected, as almost everything about Australia seems to be nothing but a kinder and less … gun-ny (?) … version of America. Strip malls still line the roads. Thrift shops, known cheekily as op shops here, are all over. You can buy anything you want. Last night, I stayed at a hotel overlooking a shop that specialized in rugs. The electric neon sign repeatedly scrolled, “Range of Rugs! $$$$ Rugs! Rugs! Rugs!”

But without Thanksgiving, of course, Black Friday doesn’t have the same frenzied draw here. No one is talking about Cyber Monday. Today is “Small Business Saturday.” I see plenty of cute small businesses nearby, but looking around the café I’m at I can’t say anyone has that “I gotta spend my paycheck today” vibe.

Black Friday is even a more ludicrous concept in Taiwan, Indonesia, Korea, Thailand and Malaysia – the last five countries I lived in. While Taipei, Seoul, Kuala Lumpur and Bangkok are certainly modern cities – the Gangnam area of Seoul even has a famous song highlighting its excesses – there’s simply not the dramatic push by every member of society to prove your love for others by buying them things.

Or worse … prove your love of God by buying things. Because, of course, nothing says “I’m a good person and deserve to go to heaven” like by buying sparkling, plastic decorations to fill your home … only to pack it all up with relief in a big, plastic bin a month later and stuff it into the storage locker you rent because you have too many things for your mini-mansion.

Every year, like me, I’m sure, you shake your head as you watch the videos of people pushing their way into a big box store in a desperate attempt to get a discounted television. They’ll elbow each other out of the way to save a little money so that they can have the capacity to accumulate even more things in a sad attempt to feel better.

Because, that’s what we’re trying to do, right? We’re trying to feel better. We use a holiday that

You’ll shoot your eye out, kid! Desperate desires for things are worthy of laughter. Also, I recently read that Hugh Hefner had a lamp like the dad coveted in this movie.

was once about showing a love for God and – even if we don’t believe in God – we spend hundreds, sometimes thousands. We may be trying to feel good, but often the aftermath is a financial hangover that adds to the real one we get from all those fancy cocktail-filled parties.

I know for me, toward the end of my time participating in the holiday season, I’d be exhausted. I’d bake cookies for my neighbors. I’d hang pretty lights on my house. I’d buy and decorate a beautiful tree. I’d buy well thought-out presents for everyone I knew – every close family member, my love interest, my dear friends and usually the children of those dear friends as well. I’d purchase a few new dresses for all those parties. I’d get my nails done. I’d buy and then mail around 100 Christmas cards to loved ones living far away. I’d make treats and wrap them thoughtfully for all of my co-workers. I’d purchase extra bottles of wine to give as hostess gifts. I’d usually make special crafts that I would plan out months in advance. I’d never break the bank, because I was working three or four jobs at the time. But I’d spend.

But anyone who is my friend or my family member, I would hope, doesn’t feel like I love them less simply because I am no longer giving them gifts. I did have one friend who struggled with this. When I was selling my possessions so that I only own what I can carry (I did it this morning … that’s one way to cut down on the buying!), I asked a dear, dear friend if she would like to have a beautiful wooden instrument that she gifted me earlier. I thought it was a better option than selling it. She was very hurt. Over the years, I’ve tried to reach out to her – because I love and respect her – but in the end it seemed she truly equated our friendship with the gifts she gave me.

Throughout the year, I volunteer but the holidays I doubled-down. Every year I spent a few hours giving away toys to needy families with the local United Way.

I understand that one of the five love languages is gifting, and it’s true. I did feel special last month when my boyfriend gave me a cute coffee mug with a little princess kitty on it. But you know what? That mug already got sold when we sold the van we were living in. He didn’t even notice that I didn’t take it when I packed up my things. Because the mug is not our love. It is an expression of our love. Just like how he makes me coffee in the morning. That’s a different love language: service. That one is free.

You know where I’m going with this. “Yeah yeah yeah,” you’re already saying. “Stop buying things, start living.” It’s like a broken record with this blog, right!? But the reality is that buying things in the name of God is hypocrisy. The more you consume, the worse off the Earth is. Earth, you may recall, is God’s creation. And if you don’t believe in God, then what the hell are you doing participating in the Christmas buying season anyway?

To recap: Buying things is not a necessary way to prove your love for others. Buying things will not make you feel better. Buying things is not a way to celebrate the entire point of the holiday season. If you want to really celebrate this year, get creative. Give your time. Give hugs. Give love, please – in the name of God!

In the last year, I’ve lived in 10 countries. And I mean really living – I don’t have a storage locker or a room somewhere “back home.” There’s no one waiting for me to return. My mail is in an unattended pile at a friend’s house. People ask where I’m from. The answer is always simply where I’ve slept the night before.

A year ago, the concept of living in a new country seemed overwhelming. As I was getting ready to move to Argentina last October, I remember going to the bookstore to pick up a Spanish workbook. As I leafed through the pages of verb conjugations in the anonymity of that quiet aisle, I broke down in tears. I didn’t feel ready, and yet I had that one-way plane ticket already booked and off I went.

I love hiking by myself! Here I am at the top of Elephant Mountain, overlooking Taipei on a bluebird day. When you hike by yourself, no one is waiting for you and you’re not waiting for anyone. There’s nothing to compare … you’re simply doing great.

Fast forward to this morning, when I was drinking coffee in an apartment in Taipei, Taiwan. I thought, you know, it would be fun to hop on the subway and try a supposedly delicious local dish I heard about called “stinky tofu” for lunch. So, I went. And I ate it. It was, yes, stinky, and it was, yes, delicious.

I’ve only been in Taiwan for less than two weeks, and yet I feel totally at home. With each country, it takes less and less time to get my bearings and figure out how everything works. How exactly did I get so comfortable with change, so easily throwing myself into completely unknown situations? After doing it now 10 times in a year, I credit a few key things:

• I set myself up for success. In truth, I’m really not very good about researching a country or a city before I arrive. Compared to my serious attempt to master Spanish before arriving in Argentina, in Taiwan I did not know what language people even spoke. (Simplified Chinese, by the way, is the most common of many languages. I can say hello.) But before I arrive in any new country or city within a country, I always know where I am going to stay for at least the first few nights. I’ll check Hostel World for top-rated spots, or I’ll set up a housesitting gig. I’ll download Google maps (to use offline), so I can point myself in a direction. Next, I check out the transportation situation. I may need to rent a car or a scooter, buy a metro card or catch a bus. It’s sometimes ridiculously confusing – honestly, figuring out the bus in Korea involved a miracle – but it happens, every time. I hit the ATM for some local cash and away I go!

• I am my own best friend. If you’re up on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, you know these basics (safety is a part of everything I just described, of course) must be taken care of before social belonging, self-esteem and self-actualization. The beautiful thing about the decisions I actively make everyday is that I can skip ahead to being my full self. I have plenty of people who love and care for me. Social media makes it easier than ever to stay in touch with those I care about. Sometimes I am super-busy with work, and all I can do is send a quick note. But I try to let people know I’m thinking of them, and I love it when people think of me as well. My family loves and supports me in a wonderful, hands-off manner that I’ve come to cherish. My boyfriend starts every day by telling me how much he values me. And I spend time giving energy to my own health: Every day, I exercise, try to eat right, limit my alcohol and sugar, practice yoga, meditate, take a nap and simply do things I want to do. So, I’m never lonely, and I’m never bored. If I want to wander around until I find that stinky tofu place, then I will. If I
  

  Dadaocheng Temple in Taiwan. Not worrying involves … you guessed it … faith in your highest self and God. The more you acknowledge and show gratitude for ways life works in your favor, the more it will.

  want to work nose-to-the-grindstone all day so that I can relax the next day, then I do. Everything I do, I do because I love myself.

• I don’t worry. Period! I make it an active, mindful practice to be low on anxiety. I didn’t check-in to my flight online. OH NO! Maybe I’ll get a bad seat. And yet, experience has shown that attendants frequently give me an emergency exit row. And if I do get the middle seat of the last row? I still get to where I’m going. OH NO! My ATM card expired. It’s actually OK. I can get it forwarded to me in Australia. And I follow intermittent fasting anyway. You don’t actually need to eat, it’s fine. OH NO! I don’t speak the language, I have no idea what I’m doing here, What if I get robbed? What if the next earthquake is bigger than the last? What if? What if? The reality is that bad things happen … and often they happen exactly when they are supposed to. My recent round of Bali belly food poisoning? Believe it or not, it was a blessing. Long story, but it’s true. Everything always works out.

When you’re so comfortable in your own life, all the outside influences and potential stressors stop becoming such a big deal. In fact, life becomes worry-free. The reason I broke down in the bookstore before Argentina? It was because I didn’t truly believe in myself. Well, with time, I proved myself capable. As a reward, I get to spend my days learning about different cultures, interacting with interesting people who have very different lives than mine. I get to try different foods and drinks, see landscapes that are unfamiliar and adapt the best I can to totally foreign ways of life. I get to discover how, in spite of all these differences, we’re really all the same.

It’s certainly not always easy – trust me! When the airline attendant told me that I couldn’t bring the 1.5L of water I just bought on to the second flight of a 12-hour red-eye from Bali to Taiwan, I almost cried. (I’ve actually cried a lot this year, because I love myself and value all my emotions.) But in line at that second security check, I didn’t cry. Instead, I unscrewed the lid, stepped out of line and downed the whole thing. As the massive amount of water sloshed in my belly, I thought about all the times I have been thirsty in my life. That’s the thing with being comfortable with change: It’s knowing that sometimes you’re thirsty, and sometimes you’re waterlogged. But you’re still living … and, hopefully, still smiling!