I seem to come back to my idea over and over again. And my question is always when will I take the plunge. To my mind, I am confident that I will at some point.
With the last few days of hard core thinking, I have managed to zero in on the fact that physical location of SYB will have to be India (still need to do a lot of research for where in India though). Now that I have said it aloud, it feels like the obvious choice. But sometimes the hardest choice is the most obvious one.
I know in the past I have adorned the cold and unaffected mask and said I will never go back. I am not afraid to even say that I was scared at the thought of going back. Scared of the people there. Scared of the thought that day in and day out I may meet people who will tell me they don't care. That they cannot help it. That this is their culture. That not doing things in a certain way is a taboo. That they are helpless. That it is all hopeless. That it is all the government's fault.
I was also scared of the pollution. Will I have to wear a scarf around all the time? Last time I went jogging in the morning I was coughing my lungs out for the rest of my India trip.
I was scared that family and friends will start expecting me to behave in a certain way, and that I will be forced to conform. And that I will be emotionally blackmailed to conform. Not for my sake but for the sake of the few people I still love.
But then again I think, if I haven't learnt to be strong, then what have I learnt in the past years?
I know I still care, and I know I want to make a difference. I also know I can remain frozen within the icekle of pretend ignorance and comfortable life.
The question is when will I choose to melt down and brace myself for the pain. I have to remember that pain is not a bad thing. Pain indicates that I am still alive and still feeling.
Sell Coffee, not your soul
With the last few days of hard core thinking, I have managed to zero in on the fact that physical location of SYB will have to be India (still need to do a lot of research for where in India though). Now that I have said it aloud, it feels like the obvious choice. But sometimes the hardest choice is the most obvious one.
I know in the past I have adorned the cold and unaffected mask and said I will never go back. I am not afraid to even say that I was scared at the thought of going back. Scared of the people there. Scared of the thought that day in and day out I may meet people who will tell me they don't care. That they cannot help it. That this is their culture. That not doing things in a certain way is a taboo. That they are helpless. That it is all hopeless. That it is all the government's fault.
I was also scared of the pollution. Will I have to wear a scarf around all the time? Last time I went jogging in the morning I was coughing my lungs out for the rest of my India trip.
I was scared that family and friends will start expecting me to behave in a certain way, and that I will be forced to conform. And that I will be emotionally blackmailed to conform. Not for my sake but for the sake of the few people I still love.
But then again I think, if I haven't learnt to be strong, then what have I learnt in the past years?
I know I still care, and I know I want to make a difference. I also know I can remain frozen within the icekle of pretend ignorance and comfortable life.
The question is when will I choose to melt down and brace myself for the pain. I have to remember that pain is not a bad thing. Pain indicates that I am still alive and still feeling.
Sell Coffee, not your soul
