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Death is the unbeatable ghost, always creeping ever closer. A few days ago, it hit me closely again – I found out that one of my friends from high school had passed away.

This post is partly inspired by him, but also encompasses many other thoughts in my mind the past several weeks.

Uncertainty is the only constant in life. Reality is a function of perception, locked into a single place in time, so incredibly constraining, and the only way to break out of that is through introspection, looking within yourself. That has been my life ever since my summer in Asia, when I was forced to look within. I felt abandoned by some of my closest friends – but in that light, I saw what it means to care for someone.

Living without regrets means always being the person you want to be to those you love – and often, to those you don’t. It doesn’t mean living for experiences, in fear of regretting what you did not do for yourself. The only regrets that matter are what you did not do for other people – because there is nothing more important in life than people.

That is what I’m trying to do now.

This means family, but also it means everyone. I just finished reading Somaly Mam’s “The Road of Lost Innocence,” about her life, being forced into prostitution in Cambodia. I’ve been to Cambodia, but I had little awareness of what was happening there – the rampant slavery, human trafficking going on throughout SE Asia.

In the future, I want to be more aware of the reality around me, to be connected to humanity.

If I can be there for those around me, and those I care about, no matter where I am, then I can live the life I want to live – without any regrets.

In my last post about Indonesia, I wrote

Had I not been there, Jakarta would still have gone on, and the city wouldn’t have noticed. It was a one-way path – the city and country making a deep, intractable impression on me, but me leaving little impression on Jakarta.

It was a strong feeling throughout the summer. Jakarta was, by far, the most hectic city I’ve ever lived in, even more than NYC. Add in the fact that I barely spoke the language, I really felt oblivious. Like the city was always churning, moving, and I was just observing it from the shadows.

That’s not to say I was passive while there. I learned some Bahasa Indonesia, met several Couchsurfers, visited numerous Kehati sites, and explored the city. One of my favorite projects was forming a writing group through Couchsurfing. We met at my favorite local cafe, Anomali Kemang, which has coffee that is unparalleled in NYC. Every week for nearly two months, I met with a varying group of 3-8 other Couchsurfers, mostly Indonesian but we did have one Filipina regular, and wrote together.

However, the group seemed to have sputtering motivation, with small turnouts near the end. No one volunteered to keep it going. As I left Jakarta, I forgot about the group, and assumed that it had faded into oblivion…

–

Hence, my surprise when my Indonesian friend Felisia told me this in an email.

btw do you know that your writings meetups is being held again?
…
you’re a starter of something here hehe…

I couldn’t believe, and quickly went to the Jakarta CS group boards. It was true! The longest thread was for the continuation of the writing group I’d started back in June! In the first post -

Would like say Hi first to Nithin, where ever you are right now.
Thanks for hooking me up with Writers Club :)

Inez, who only came only once, is organizing the meetup. It’s turned into something greater than I could have imagined – with its own blog (Peoplesliceoflice), weekly themes, prizes, contests and rotating locations.

It turned out that I was wrong. Completely wrong. I didn’t just sit in the shadows of Jakarta, I did do something there that is lasting. A seed had been planted. My presence made a difference to some people there, maybe only a little, but some, just as they made a great influence on me.

The world works in mysterious ways. Maybe I was meant to be in Jakarta this summer for a reason.

Jakarta – keep on writing! I hope to make a meetup again, someday, someday.

On December 1st, 1955, Rosa Parks helped changed America by refusing to give up her seat on a Montgomery, Alabama bus, launching the Montgomery bus boycott.

On September 17th, 2011, a group of frustrated citizens from all stripes of life took over a park on Wall Street, launching a protest that has now spread around the world, a call against the grotesque excesses of modern capitalism.

–

The civil rights movement, in my opinion, the greatest grassroots movement in American history. But it is amazingly, little understood by most Americans. Over the past several years, I’ve taken upon myself to read about the fascinating history. It at one makes me incredibly proud to be an American, and disgusted. The intense bravery, self-discipline, and determination of those of all colors, against the cruelties of segregation. The horrors they faced perpetuated by people in power, who used despicable tactics against fellow humans beings.

Yes, we all know about Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, but how many Americans, especially of my generation, can name another civil rights hero? Two week ago we lost a great man when Reverand Fred Shuttleworth passed away – one of countless heroes of that generation. MLK didn’t do it alone, and it what amazes me the most – how so many people stood up against injustice, and how so many did it peacefully. It was a true movement. Not a perfect movement, by any means, but a true one.

The demands then were not for an excise task, but for a fundamental shift in how society treated a whole classes and races, a rethinking of human dignity. That movement, though it has accomplished a lot, is not over. It didn’t end with the Voting Rights Act.

We all like to think that we’d be on the right side of justice if put in those situations. But I truly wonder if I could match their bravery. Americans as a whole have a lot to learn from the civil rights movement, about both our potential for good, and our potential for evil.

–

One myth that has sustained is that of Rosa Parks. The story goes that she, one a spontaneous day, refused to give her seat, and the movement launched in response. The reality is that Rosa Parks was a leader, and that the campaign was planned well in advance, and she was the catalyst who choose to take action.

Movements don’t happen by chance – they take planning, preparation, and leadership. That is one thing we forget about the civil rights movement, which worked incredibly hard to organize in segregated communities throughout the South, where people had almost no access to information. By letting this myth survive, we diminish the hard work of thousands in this movement.

I first heard about Occupy Wall Street back in July. Adbusters, a magazine that I’ve been subscribed to, whenever I have a home, for nearly eighty years, has been posting articles on their blogs, and in the magazines, for months. Within particular circles were deep discussions about what form the movement should take – the chief inspiration being Tahrir Square in Egypt. Incremental change, the purview of President Obama’s 2008 election, wasn’t doing nearly enough when looking at the immediate problems facing humanity – climate change, inequality, and rampant capitalism. But how should such a movement be structured?

There were articles on protest tactics.

Civil disobedience vs. Violence

What does revolution mean in Canada?

I was skeptical, but hopeful. In 2006, I’d joined when Adbusters had organized local action groups, in Los Angeles, only to be dissolutioned by the lack of action by the group – we could never agree on a single tactic, and most people didn’t do their fair share of the work. Why would this movement be any different, I thought? So I read the articles – in-depth, and thoughtful – but did not head down to Wall Street on September 17th.

–

What makes a movement? When do social factors reach a point where action is inevitable, as it was in Birmingham that day in 1955. Have we reached a tipping point today? Is change near? I’m hopeful – a realistic idealist. Occupy Wall Street has made me realize that movements can still happen in today’s world. It has also made me realize how difficult the challenge will be.

The organizers knew exactly where to take their inspiration from. The final Adbusters blog post before the protest began – “Some inspiration from Martin Luther King, Jr. for this Saturday“. There is another lesson from the civil rights movement – setbacks will happen. You’ll lose patience, and want to turn to more radical tactics. There will be discord. People will infiltrate and try to divide you. The media will ignore you when you do good, and shower you with attention when you do bad, even if just for a moment.

But the odds we are facing, while great, pale in comparison to what southern blacks faced in the 1960′s. In their resolve, we can find strength. They faced down an entire unjust system, and brought about change.

Yes we can.

I’m currently working on a paper for my Earth/Human Interactions class – my topic is the effect of Progress and Natural Resource Exploitation on Social Diversity.

I’ll be writing more on this topic later – but first, here’s a great TED talk I ran across while doing research on the importance of cultural diversity. It made me want to laugh, cry, and applaud at the same time…and reminded me of why I initial began to love travel.

Take a look and tell me what you think.

It’s been three years since I first went to a Shut up and Write meetup in San Francisco.

The meeting was at Crossroads Cafe, near the Embarcadero. Immediately upon entering, I was astounded. It was a wonderful place, spacious, with a small bookstore, and an incredibly large, and cheap menu. I saw the red printed sign to the right, and introduced myself. It was a fairly new meetup, having only been going on for a few weeks.

It was the first writing meetup that connected with me – focusing specifically on my struggle, sitting down and writing. The concept is simple yet effective – we meetup at various cafes, introduce ourselves, then write silently, continuously, for an hour, on whatever project we want. After an hour, we talk, though there is no pressure to share or critique. That first day, I wrote in my journal, but from then on, I focused on my book, one I’d been struggling to finish.

It is incredibly effective. In those one hour sessions, I’d get two or three times the amount of writing done as a single hour on my own. It was positive psychology, group pressure helping all of get accomplished something far greater than we could have on our own. Shut up and Write helped me overcome my greatest barrier – building discipline. In those hourly meetups, I finished my book about my around the world trip.

When I moved to New York, I started the first chapter of Shut up and Write outside of the Bay Area, with my weekly meetup now having become four meetups organized by different folks in New York City. It’s a small, yet strong start. If you’re in NY, come!

Writing doesn’t have to be a solitary exercize – together, we can get more accomplished on our own projects then together.

It’s taken me three years to realize that it was fate, or luck, that night in San Francisco. Finding that meetup, going, and becoming part of the writing community, has changed me in ways I’m only beginning to understand. I’m finally realizing my dream of making writing a part of my life, no matter where I am. Now, in NY, I hope to spread to others what Rennie and the SF SU&W organizers did for me.

Spreading inspiration – is there any better way to make change?

After a year, I’ve synthesized it down. What it is that I don’t like about New York. My normal caveat, of course, that this only applies to me. My dislike of NY doesn’t mean you have to dislike it to. Strangely, I’ve found many New Yorkers can’t take this – my dislike of NY seems to drive them crazier.

Anyway, why I dislike New York. It’s not the difficult of living here…though cubersome and overly complicated.

It’s not the lack of nature.

It’s not the congestion

It’s when people tell me this.

“That’s just how New York it.”

or

“You’ll come to love the chaos.” (or disorganization, attitude, etc)

In those statements is, hidden within, is something a little more sinister. New York City is big, cumbersome, bureaucratic, inefficient, and it can’t be changed. We have to love it for what it is.

In San Francisco, people are always actively working to make the city better – laws are passed to make Government more efficient (at attempts to) and any threat to local cultural events are taken seriously. Protests are a part of life. People love SF and can complain about it, and then work to make it better. Whether they succeed or not is another question, but at least they try. There, people see the city for what it is a – a collection of people who can, together, make the city great.

New Yorkers speak about their community, about the solidarity, but I rarely see it. Here, the city is the living being, and we are just part of it.

It’s a minor attitude difference, but I think its at the root of what I don’t like about NYC. I’m to accept that shitty housing market, the inefficiencies, the dirtiness, as part of what makes NY great. Why?

Now, I’m still enjoying my time here – and enjoy a lot of things about the city, and love Columbia as a place of learning. But I want to live in place where people are empowered, where people treat each other with respect, and where we are the city. That, above all, is why I won’t be staying here.

So…where will I go?

Courtesy of Sensei Tomoko Okagaki, our academic adviser for the trip.

Time flows unevenly. It’s pace depends on one’s place, locale, and also on oneself. Buddhist teaching says that time can be observed in its most subtle, tiny vibration from within your own body. Your state, your soul, strongly effects how time flows through you.

It was thoughts like this, about time, place, love, and the meaning of life, that dominated my summer in Jakarta. The two months felt like far longer, because I was forced to, by my situation, to delve deep inside myself, to discover things that both scared me, and excited me. I felt time, there, more acutely than I have in many, many years.

–

In today’s world, experiences have to be categorized, stamped, and put into soundbites for general consumption. At least, that’s how I’ve felt since returning to New York, and back to school, being asked over and over again, “How was your summer?”

But how can I explain? It’s been barely a month. How are you supposed to understand an experience in that short of a time? It begged the larger question – how was I supposed to understand Indonesia, or even Jakarta, in just two months?

All I can say is what I felt and saw through my own senses, during that two month period which will never exist again. Indonesia was intensely personal, and I was but a visitor, on the edges, getting a small, but sweet taste of a complex, developing country. I was there, observing, but the city, and life, was going on despite my presence. Had I not been there, Jakarta would still have gone on, and the city wouldn’t have noticed. It was a one-way path – the city and country making a deep, intractable impression on me, but me leaving little impression on Jakarta.

Traveling, and life, is incredible subjective. Your experiences are tied to the time, and place, you went, with a giant helping of luck and chance. Yet, within these deeply personal experiences, are stories, anecdotes, tales, that can enrich others. A soundbite answer to a question won’t tell you about my experience in Indonesia. But perhaps this blog will. Perhaps my writings can show you how my experiences shaped my self, and through that, show you the power of traveling and the interconnectedness of humanity.

That, at least is my hope. Or, more accurately, my dream. The dream of any writer.