The notion of "culture shock" has never made sense to me. I'm beginning to think though, that it's just misnamed. It's not the culture that you feel doesn't fit, it's you. And I don't think it only applies to travel. We are always changing, having new experiences that transform us in ways we can't fathom, only we feel the effects of the changes, hear their echoes and see their shadows.
Something tugs on the corner of our shirt, just out of eyesight. When we look down and slightly backwards, and we realize that we are changed. A wet tissue with a drop of dye in the corner, we realize that our color is utterly transformed, flushed with a color we hardly recognize but intuitively understand or identify with. Only the very farthest corner bears any trace of the color that was before.
I'm exhausted. Maybe it's jetlag. If it is, then I'm still the person I've been for the past 5 months. If it isn't, if I'm just tired, then who am I? Just another person, a person with no physical connection to close to half a year in India, with only photos and stories which seem less real with every day. Who is it real for if it's not real for me?
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I remember my mom telling me about Buddhism when I was very young. She told me that one of the main ideas is that you accept everything as it is, without wishing it were something or some way else. It gave me pause- how could that be? And what would be the point, to anything, if we just accepted what is as what is? What if I wanted a toy? Did that mean that I just wouldn't want the toy? That I would give up that wanting? But I didn't want to give up the wanting! I liked it- no, maybe not liked it, but...I didn't want to stop wanting.
But maybe there was something to this acceptance. Wanting wasn't exactly fun, didn't exactly make me happy. But ooh! Look at the two pages in this catalogue where everything is white and pink and has frills and lace on it- I'm going to go show it to my parents!
And it's still hard to process, the thought of not wanting...
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