Side Effects

4/9/2008

My happiest moments in Togo are when I’m riding my bike. There’s really nothing like it here. Today I was gulping the fresh air to fuel my endorphin kick. It’s these moments, despite their fleeting nature, that I thank my lucky stars that I am here and not suffocating in the re-circulated, moldy air of some office tucked away beneath mounds of yellowed paper and antenna-like electrical cables. I know my body, physically, has thanked me for the change of lifestyle. My skin has never been clearer. I’ve never been thinner, except for maybe when I was in 8th grade. I’ve never sported a healthier glow, although to some, that’s not necessarily a good thing. My internal organs have never known such organic, pesticide-free nourishment. In many ways, Africa has done me well. But as I sweat my way through the dusty paths of Dankpen (Dankpen is the Prefecture in which I live) on my bike, of course, I either zone out to my iPOD or have flashes of heightened consciousness. In this case, I had a thought. I’ve always aspired to some romanticized ideal of myself. I think it is a fair assumption that most people desire some level of self-improvement. I’m no exception. But in my pursuit of a more intelligent, more witty, more cultured, sexier, edgier state of existence, such goals implicitly imply that I cannot be satisfied with myself as it currently survives. Subsequently, I cannot subscribe to the new age mentality of loving myself as I am. If I were to attempt such a feat, I would be logically impossible. Who said humans weren’t confused, complex beings? The result is some kind of psychological struggle with our selves (well, at least me). I’m sure there are some optimists out there that believe there’s a way to peacefully coexist with two opposing ideologies. Whatever. I’m still at a loss as to how I can resolve and pacify my tortured soul. Fortunately for me, I’ve got the wind in my face and nothing but trees before me.
My next thought relates these same sentiments to other people. I read somewhere that women, in particular, tend to see the potential in prospective romantic conquests and not see the reality before their eyes. If we, as people, were constantly living in a space with the expectation that others will change, improve themselves, be all that they can be, then, tell me, how exactly can we appreciate, love, accept others as they are right now in this very moment? Let’s take Togo for example. Do I appreciate and accept Togo as it is right now? Or what I see it could become? The students I work with today frustrate me to no end because I see, I practically taste, what they could have, so easily, if just a few small (according to me) barriers were removed. So if, I don’t accept them as they currently exist, doesn’t that mean I must harbor an eternal state of dissatisfaction because this so-called ideal of their potential is definitely beyond my time here and probably beyond my lifetime? Not-to-mention, this glorified vision of their future is totally and completely subjective and ignorant of numerous variables in their life. Perhaps, I can let those hopes and desires go for people I really have no control over in the first place and avoid being incessantly disappointed with their inadequacies to measure up. But such acceptance risks the stagnant abyss of complacency. I suppose we could compartmentalize the facets that we like and dislike about ourselves and others, as I am sure many of us already do, but we are still in the quandary of loving and accepting half a person. I only like you partly. I like your hands, but not your feet. I like your eyes, but not your nose. We are all walking around in parts and pieces in the eyes of ourselves and others.
So my dears, I pose this question rhetorically: Where do we go from here?
At least, I have a tight butt and a tan, right?