The man must change

If a man and his story are in conflict ... it is the man who must change.
- from a review for "The Orphan Master's Son" by Adam Johnson

I can't wait to read this book. Not only for the story (a novel about life inside North Korea) but because this quote hits me deep. I bet in the intended context the quote isn't meant to be inspiring: in North Korea, you adapt to the story of the state or you die. The individual isn’t permitted to have a story. It's so fascinating that the North Korean leaders have been able to "make totalitarianism work." It seems impossible that the people would accept it when the model of human social development seems to be suffer repression and then rebel for the cause of freedom whatever the cost. A desire for freedom is part of our nature isn’t it? How do they do it? How does the state maintain itself and why do the people continue to accept? 

This fascination with North Korea is part of the story I've made for myself. I have one or two friends who share it. It's part of their story too. What is the rest of my story? It is complex and epic. It is also never ending when I think about how I have picked it up from my ancestors and will pass some of it on to my children. The part I focus on now is this: my motivation in life has been about obtaining pleasure and avoiding discomfort. Those are the values I've inherited and are reinforced by my culture. I didn't sit down one day and choose them, I just became them because I'm a human in a culture of self-focus. I’ve learned to make my life about ME just like everyone else.

How do these values play out? Pleasure seeking: I love music, so I am continually listening to something. At work, when I drive, when I walk, when I eat, when I do dishes, often. I've got 13 days of non-stop music on my computer (according to iTunes). I buy new music at least once a month and I add my old tapes and records whenever I sit down at my computer. Music gives me pleasure so I seek it out. I hoard collect it and I feel ill-at-ease when I don't have it. (Like last night when I walked home from work without my earphones for my iPhone. It was weird to just walk. My mind kept recycling the chorus of the last song I listened to at work.)

That is one example of pleasure seeking. A mild one. Another is the idea that I will continue to work, I will gain respect, and I will earn more money. My reinforcement must come from the outside (money in the bank and the respect of my colleagues). That is what I believe determines my worth compared to the next person. I would love to be at the top of the hospital totem pole and if I didn’t have a family to support, I would probably be back in school, studying to become a physician. What I think about my day-to-day work is mostly meaningless. Who cares if Berta learns to use a text-to-speech computer to talk because her disease is relentlessly dragging paralysis from her distal muscles to the very source of her physical life? She will die no matter what I do, but perhaps I can help her stay connected to the outside world a little longer through the slow Morse code of her computer. I do care for her. I do. But at the end of the day, I would leave my job--leave her--if I found a way to earn more money. That is the depth of my pleasure seeking and discomfort avoidance. I hate budgeting. I hate doing the books. I hate it when we have to spend the weekend at home because we've used up all our gas money for the month. I hate opening my pay cheque and seeing the same numbers every month. I just want to be free of that worry and stress. I want more money.

I have lived my life as if I was in a car travelling here and there on empty roads. No one else is on the road. It's just me. I’ve been told that I can do whatever I set my mind to. Any dream is achievable. So, I consult my map and do my best to end up in the fancy mansion with all the wealth I could ever need, but the mansion never ever appears. The map said MANSION THIS WAY but I can never find it. Do I half-heartedly re-check my map (it hasn't been helpful so far) or do I just keep on the road I've chosen and hope for the best? In any case it doesn’t matter which I choose. I must keep on driving. I can’t stop. When I pull my head out of my ass I see that there's a lot of traffic on the road. Countless people surround me, all driving and searching for “the mansion.” I listen to the radio and I hear stories of people who have found the mansion. They love it and can't stop talking about it. It sounds so lovely! When will I find my own mansion?!

This has been my story. I don't like it. It’s the kind of story that sucks you in to wanting to know what happens next, but then when you get to the “next” it leads to another “what happens next.” There is no way to be satisfied with a story like this. It’s breeds agitation, greed, and self-loathing. Sure, I have my moments of peace, but these come most often when I distract myself. The perfect song will blow at the smoke of my fire and spread it around as if it never existed, but when the song stops, the smoke begins it's relentless writhing trip into the empty sky. And this smoke is foul. It’s like the time I stuck my head over my Grandma’s old garbage barrel and got a good whiff of burning plastic.

"If a man and his story are in conflict ... it is the man who must change."

I must let my story die. This sounds extreme. Is it the only answer? Must I stop my car, get out, and tear up my map? What will I do without that story? Who will I be? Part of the answer is I have to create my own story (not the one of greed and disappointment I’ve grown up with). I am not living in an inevitable tragedy. I’m not. I would like my story to be one of a man who burdened by too many weighty beliefs, decides one day to put them all down and walk away with peace and joy. Sounds lame. Part of me still wants the mansion. (I’m the guy who watched every episode of Lost and was sad when it ended.)

This week in yoga, we spent some time noticing our heartbeats. I had never done that before: stopped and sensed the slow rhythm of my heart. I felt a little release, like saying to myself, "it's good, everything is good just the way it is." My heart was whispering this and it added that it would be there for me for as long as I needed it. Watching out for me. Protecting me. "You will be fine," it said, "if you stop from time to time and put down your map."

When I left that focus. I found myself back in my car, my map open in front of me. I wondered how I got there and then remembered the story of my heart. I put the map on the seat beside me and eased up on the gas pedal a little. This story I'm in has a momentum that needs to unwind. To stop it cold would probably send me through the windshield. I can keep going. I will be fine. I can stop my car from time to time, get out, stretch my legs, and take a look around. In this way I will change and I will find harmony with the story. Not the story I think I should be in, but the story I AM IN. The bigger story. I will slowly let go of my expectation of what my life should be and settle in to the way it is. I will be fine.

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