"Know something about something. Don’t just present your wonderful self to the world. Constantly amass knowledge and offer it around."- Richard Holbrooke
Today, I went with my family to a relatively new Vietnamese restaurant in Indiranagar, Phobidden Fruit.
Being the neurotic person that I am, I had Google-ed Vietnamese food before we headed out to the restaurant and was ready with an explanation of the basics of Vietnamese cooking. Well, at least that Pho was a pretty signature Vietnamese dish and that eating would involve an inordinate amount of dexterity, suction, hand eye coordination and creative utensil use. Pretty soon, my sister and I, the children of privilege that we are, began discussing the flavors and textures of the food we were eating - comparing it to Thai, Chinese and Malay cuisine that we had tasted. Then we caught ourselves sounding like food hipsters/travel channel addicts and went about slurping our Pho down with much more joyous abandon.
I'd never had Vietnamese food before and the idea of trying it for the first time in a restaurant in Bangalore tickled my sense of awe.
I'd lived in the United States for years, 40 miles from Manhattan, and was led to believe that it was the 'melting pot' of the world. That living there was the ultimate in human experiences, where everything was open to you. Sort of a harem of culture, the world in a microcosm, where there was an endless novelty of exposure.
But here I was, more than 8000 miles away from what I had always considered the Mecca of culture and diversity, in Bangalore, India, eating Vietnamese food as we talked about Peter Arnett, life in the United States and the economic challenges of young adulthood. How much more diverse can you get? And how much further away from the United States.
I'm 23. I've lived in 2 countries in 7 places and gone to 6 different schools. I've traveled to 16 countries. My first passport was issued when I was 6 months old. I entered medical school at 17 for which I had to learn a new language (although I was never quite good) and adapt to a new culture. To do this, I had given up an opportunity to study in Ivy league and other top schools in the United States.
My definitions of success and opportunity have had to change constantly.
All of this sounds incredible. And sometimes, I find myself basking in the glow of my experiences without really considering what they have pushed me towards. I sit on the throne of the "Third Culture Kid", presenting my "wonderful self to the world" and forget that living a rich life - culturally, economically, emotionally - isn't what I want to define me. Of course, it makes for great material for writing and easy conversation with people from anywhere, but it really is what I do with it that counts in the end.
I am so afraid that I will take this abundance of privilege and squander it somehow. That I'll be stuck in the First world notions of "experiencing culture" - eating in fancy restaurants, reading books and films by foreign authors, 'traveling', being a well developed personality- without really wanting to be a part of anything, ultimately, except my own life. I've found that it is an extremely easy trap to fall into. After all, art, food, family and economic security are the best anesthetic from having to really understand the parts of the world around you that don't add to your sense of comfort. Why bother with other people's pain when the life you live doesn't affect them adversely?
In the past, to even ask such a question would have been an ultimate sin. I often balked at the rich masses (well, from my perspective the rich were a mass) that were apathetic at the less fortunate majority of the world. I was convinced that it was my duty to lead a life in which I would give constantly to those less fortunate to me. A life of service.
These days, I don't think i think of it in the same terms. I no longer feel that a charity is a positive term. That the rich have a moral imperative to help those "less fortunate" beyond a certain point. That human kind are designed to help each other out in the hard times. All of these things, are a blessing, not a state of being.
Besides, if a lack of food, education and stimulation are the opiate of the poor, then the excess of those are the opiate of the rich.
But I love the opium of the privileged life. I find myself one among the very people I criticized of being insensitive to the needs of the greater world population. I'm less inclined to help anyone with abandon. (Ugh - writing fail today). I find the pleasures and pressures of my own life preventing me from even considering the world around me worthy of attention.
I don't like this change.
And in spite of all of this. In spite of the fact that I sometimes feel like I've sold out on my original dream to help those in need - I still do feel some strange pull towards it.
I'm not a bleeding heart anymore. That will get you killed or bankrupt. But I do honestly want to help those who need it most. I want to learn about the world I live in, the good and the bad. Even the very bad. I want to learn by experience, a trial by fire, not by intellect. There are vast limitations to book learning. And there is only so much fire you can take before you are indelibly burnt.
But most of all, I want the courage of action. The ability to put my knowledge to use and to make it a little less about myself.
Hope I figure it out.
But I suppose the way is scattered with screw ups.
Time to just go for it I guess.
