Life re-evaluated
I went through a lost phase, and thanks to family, friends, and books from my past I was able to come to a decision that feels right in my heart.
I still think about him everyday. More than feel that I made one of the worst mistakes of my life, or what could have been, I merely miss him for who he was as a wonderful person. I want to cry, but my aunt in California pulled me aside and said:
"Mary, no man is worth your tears. You hold your head up high. You have Vietnamese blood running through you, we are strong fighters. Don't you forget that."
I don't hate Hyunsu, and although he tore through me with his words I never responded with one word of hate. Because I couldn't. No matter what he may say to me the thought of Hyunsu in my heart is pure and wholesome, and his love will always be there. I can't linger, and like I couldn't commit to Japan and a new life there without my own independence, I cannot continue to wallow in my own shadows here in the United States. I have a strong personality with goals, dreams, and ambitions; and while this may look like folly and inane words to those who look upon my actions, I continue forward. I know that success in life does not come without risk, and I know that true happiness is not achieved by ignoring that feeling in your gut, that voice inside of your head, by letting that little tug of doubt engulf you into something you hate and regret.
"Mary, you want to go to Japan with your head raised high. You want to go there as somebody. There is no reason to feel ashamed in that decision."
The Alchemist, the bible of my life as I like to call it, says that there is a greater force that leads leads us to our personal legend. The book repeats frequently to "follow the omens," and I think that we can all relate that into our life in one form or another. There are times in life when destiny, fate, god, "the soul of the world" gives us signs that leads us to what we should do--but whether we heed to those calls or not is up to our personal ambition. People that ignore the calls of greatness, the omens, the signs: They lead lives of distasteful regret. I do not want to do that.
Before I went to Beijing I consulted with Chen Gang multiple times. Do you really want to go? Is this a good idea? Do you have the money? He advised me for every situation I might have, but in the end we came to the conclusion that studying in Beijing would be the best option for me. Go to China for six months to learn Mandarin and then continue my studies at Waseda University. China would end at six months, and my time there was to be maximized down to the very last second.
I never imagined that at my six month mark I would literally be tearing myself away from the country. My heart broke into pieces. The flight home felt wrong. Before boarding the plane I called Chen Gang and cried profusely in Chinese. "I don't want to go," I sobbed. "I don't want to go." He told me not to cry, that I would be back, that no matter what may happen my friends in China will be here for me eternally. "You will be back Mary, you will be back."
The loss of the scholarship, the earthquake in Japan, the nonstop pressure from my boyfriend, the drop in self confidence, and most of all my longing to return to China were eating away at me. They were signs, they are all omens that lead me to a greater destiny, to my "personal legend" that no one else can accomplish but me. The signs were telling me not to go to Japan at this moment, and with a push and nudge from friends and family I went forward with the decision that I truly want.
To go back to China and discover who I am.
My two years in Japan taught me something.
I want to live. I truly want to live. That is why I cannot reside in Japan.
I need passion, romance, raw emotion, feeling, and friendship as deep as the crimson that runs through my veins. I cannot live in a society of repression, a hum-drum day-to-day existence of emotions constantly in limbo. I need an embrace from a friend, I need to walk up to someone and tell them about my day, I need smiles from the heart, I need a friend to yell at me from across the dinner table or cradle me while I cry. I need that passion, I need to step out onto the rooftop and gaze at the green giants around me, hop into the rowboat and paddle around Halong Bay, feel the wind whip through my hair at the peak of a temple in Guangzhou. I need to be alive, and Japan cannot fulfill that for me.
Can it for others? Absolutely. Are some people content living the Japanese life of polite lies and pride that runs deep to the bones? Yes. There is nothing wrong with it. Japan is a country I respect more than any other. It is, and always will be, my role-model.
But will it make me happy?
No.
Returning to America made me discover who I really am. What constitutes Mary, and what Mary is composed of. Deep in my heart I am American, infused with Vietnamese, Irish, Japanese and now Chinese culture. A friend once told me I am a woman of five cultures, and I truly feel it in everything I do. The Asian side of me burns strong, but there is no doubt that the embodiment of America is deep within my soul. I was born and raised here, and the composition of who I am will never change.
That is exactly why I couldn't go to Japan and make any commitments. I thought I could. But the 25 year old American girl named Mary wants to spread her wings and fly. She has her eyes set on China and nothing else. My best friends live there, language opportunities are abundant, job offers and financial success lay lurking in the dark of Shanghai.
I go to you China with nothing but a suitcase, but in return I hope you bump me one or two steps closer to my personal legend. To the destiny of what I was put on this Earth to do.
I still think about him everyday. More than feel that I made one of the worst mistakes of my life, or what could have been, I merely miss him for who he was as a wonderful person. I want to cry, but my aunt in California pulled me aside and said:
"Mary, no man is worth your tears. You hold your head up high. You have Vietnamese blood running through you, we are strong fighters. Don't you forget that."
I don't hate Hyunsu, and although he tore through me with his words I never responded with one word of hate. Because I couldn't. No matter what he may say to me the thought of Hyunsu in my heart is pure and wholesome, and his love will always be there. I can't linger, and like I couldn't commit to Japan and a new life there without my own independence, I cannot continue to wallow in my own shadows here in the United States. I have a strong personality with goals, dreams, and ambitions; and while this may look like folly and inane words to those who look upon my actions, I continue forward. I know that success in life does not come without risk, and I know that true happiness is not achieved by ignoring that feeling in your gut, that voice inside of your head, by letting that little tug of doubt engulf you into something you hate and regret.
"Mary, you want to go to Japan with your head raised high. You want to go there as somebody. There is no reason to feel ashamed in that decision."
The Alchemist, the bible of my life as I like to call it, says that there is a greater force that leads leads us to our personal legend. The book repeats frequently to "follow the omens," and I think that we can all relate that into our life in one form or another. There are times in life when destiny, fate, god, "the soul of the world" gives us signs that leads us to what we should do--but whether we heed to those calls or not is up to our personal ambition. People that ignore the calls of greatness, the omens, the signs: They lead lives of distasteful regret. I do not want to do that.
Before I went to Beijing I consulted with Chen Gang multiple times. Do you really want to go? Is this a good idea? Do you have the money? He advised me for every situation I might have, but in the end we came to the conclusion that studying in Beijing would be the best option for me. Go to China for six months to learn Mandarin and then continue my studies at Waseda University. China would end at six months, and my time there was to be maximized down to the very last second.
I never imagined that at my six month mark I would literally be tearing myself away from the country. My heart broke into pieces. The flight home felt wrong. Before boarding the plane I called Chen Gang and cried profusely in Chinese. "I don't want to go," I sobbed. "I don't want to go." He told me not to cry, that I would be back, that no matter what may happen my friends in China will be here for me eternally. "You will be back Mary, you will be back."
The loss of the scholarship, the earthquake in Japan, the nonstop pressure from my boyfriend, the drop in self confidence, and most of all my longing to return to China were eating away at me. They were signs, they are all omens that lead me to a greater destiny, to my "personal legend" that no one else can accomplish but me. The signs were telling me not to go to Japan at this moment, and with a push and nudge from friends and family I went forward with the decision that I truly want.
To go back to China and discover who I am.
My two years in Japan taught me something.
I want to live. I truly want to live. That is why I cannot reside in Japan.
I need passion, romance, raw emotion, feeling, and friendship as deep as the crimson that runs through my veins. I cannot live in a society of repression, a hum-drum day-to-day existence of emotions constantly in limbo. I need an embrace from a friend, I need to walk up to someone and tell them about my day, I need smiles from the heart, I need a friend to yell at me from across the dinner table or cradle me while I cry. I need that passion, I need to step out onto the rooftop and gaze at the green giants around me, hop into the rowboat and paddle around Halong Bay, feel the wind whip through my hair at the peak of a temple in Guangzhou. I need to be alive, and Japan cannot fulfill that for me.
Can it for others? Absolutely. Are some people content living the Japanese life of polite lies and pride that runs deep to the bones? Yes. There is nothing wrong with it. Japan is a country I respect more than any other. It is, and always will be, my role-model.
But will it make me happy?
No.
Returning to America made me discover who I really am. What constitutes Mary, and what Mary is composed of. Deep in my heart I am American, infused with Vietnamese, Irish, Japanese and now Chinese culture. A friend once told me I am a woman of five cultures, and I truly feel it in everything I do. The Asian side of me burns strong, but there is no doubt that the embodiment of America is deep within my soul. I was born and raised here, and the composition of who I am will never change.
That is exactly why I couldn't go to Japan and make any commitments. I thought I could. But the 25 year old American girl named Mary wants to spread her wings and fly. She has her eyes set on China and nothing else. My best friends live there, language opportunities are abundant, job offers and financial success lay lurking in the dark of Shanghai.
I go to you China with nothing but a suitcase, but in return I hope you bump me one or two steps closer to my personal legend. To the destiny of what I was put on this Earth to do.