stephanie yang

i’ve been going through this intense clutter clearing process in my home, weeding through all the items i have collected, stored, cherished…or less glamourously, just thought i would need again one day, yet never have. i have been donating bags of perfectly useful clothes, kitchen wares, books, nick-nacks. and i have been finding things as well that pique my nostalgia in ways that give me pause.

the first thing that literally made me stop, was a letter from a swedish guy i studied with in germany, named andreas. it was a letter that professed love and meaning and deep cross-continental connection…yet a letter i don’t think i ever responded to. in reading it now 17 years later, i am touched by his honesty, his trembling, his truth. i am compelled to respond now…but am challenged by a damaged brain that loses names soon after hearing them. i don’t know his last name…it’s no longer there for me to access. i have no idea where to find him, other than perhaps going door to door in sweden, an aged photograph in hand, begging “do you know him? do you know andreas?”

the second thing i stumbled upon took me a moment to realize what it was. a small black moleskine notebook — like so many of the notebooks i use — has been sitting now on my nightstand for days. it was in a pile of books i was clearing out and this morning i picked it up, turned it over, and stopped. seeing the sticker i had placed on the front, all those years ago, told me definitively that in fact, this notebook was not what i had first thought it was…it was different. to open it meant returning to murky waters, sticky memories, sullied dreams. this notebook was from my month long travels in southeast asia with jill…a time that i thought marked a delicious new beginning, but was, i soon was to learn, simply, our final hoorah.

and yet. it’s been three years, my curiosity piques and the pages begin to turn. i feel drawn to share a few excerpts here:

(1) july 4…or is it the 5th? time has already begun to warp beneath our feet. sitting, standing, squirming on a plane for over 10 hours has made reality whirl around us and lose its power. for now. we sit, waiting, once again, now in tokyo, beginning to grasp the expanse of the world around us. travelers passing, journeying through the airport like bees in their hive – each carrying a distinct mission, a clear sense of destination…a sleepiness descends upon us, like a wet wool blanket we don’t have the energy to shrug off. so it sits here, pulling us down deeper into the seats we’re waiting in, dreaming already of our next journey…one that promises to let us step outside of the boxes that confine…

(2) several days later, now feels likes weeks. the journey has already begun. we’ve left bangkok behind and it has left us wanting more: more food, more sights, more adventures. simply more. learning to take it all in through small bursts makes it all so much more reasonable. small bites. small steps. all strung together to make one full day. the wanting dissipates, the satisfaction increases. perhaps this is the lesson i need to learn. how to take off smaller bites and build those together for the whole i am looking for. i am afraid still that if i don’t take a large piece – the full amount offered – i’ll never get the opportunity again…

(3) last night we stopped over in lopburi, a small town precariously positioned on the edge of erasing a powerfully resonant history. it sits there, on every corner, in every glimpse of the sky, ruins are crumbling, space being reclaimed by monkeys. it is the elderly in this town who bridge the worlds – taking time to feed, to spoil, to embrace all that the monkeys represent. in watching a woman scatter boiled eggs to expectant simian hands, i am reminded that our space, our power, our control over the earth is temporary at best. the earth, the elements – all of it — will be reclaimed one day. nature will win out. in this town, the ruins stand, the electronic stores signs glitter, the modern conveniences pollute the air, seeping silent toxins into our water…and still we continue to create. we have been able to reclaim and reuse the land that nurtured those who came before us…will those who come after us, have the same privilege? will the ruins we leave inspire the same awe and wonder as those we touch today?…

(4) this endless train ride we are on is now almost at its destination…i think…yet i am not sure what my destination even is. is it simply the end of the line for today? and if so, then what? where am i going? i quit my job last month because the destination it offered held no interest for me. so i’m traveling…finding new and different destinations for myself. each one offering a different path…its own way of arriving…for the first real time in my life it feels like i have no idea at all where i’m going, where i want and/or even need to be. i used to believe i had the answers and that i knew which way the arrows pointed. which way to point my shoes at night while i slept…i don’t even know where i want to go next on this trip.

(5) we visited tuol sleng today. the khmer rouge interrogation and detention center in the middle of phnom penh. literally in the middle of the city. it is situated in a former high school, surrounded by concrete walls that hide a well-populated and lively neighborhood. walking through the gates, seeing the cells, traveling up and down the halls, the harshness of the stone and mortar and wood catch my breath. in this place are remnants – tangible and ghostly – taking up space in abandoned rooms. it’s haunting to say the least…being here is beyond words, beyond me. the tears well, the heart wants so much to burst…and yet, i stand here. feeling. honoring. remembering. taking it all in until i feel as if i will break.