A Strange Encounter of the Random Kind
I met a man a few nights ago, in the Chinatown area of Georgetown, Malaysia. We encountered each other at the Mona Lisa Cafe, an old-school Chinese colonial-era restaurant, cafe and bar. No frills, but lots of charm and atmosphere. He has been traveling around the world for the last 8 years. His name is Max, an Australian, 59 years old. Seems he used to be a town planner in Western Australia.
Then, one day at work, he found some corruption in the approval process for the construction of a shopping mall or something. The law, and the interests of local citizens, were being bypassed in favor of big money.
He tried to get his superiors interested – they were not interested. He tried to talk about it at a city meeting – but it wasn’t put on the agenda, and he wasn’t allowed to speak about it. He was told to ‘shut up’ or risk being fired. Or worse.
So he went home that night and took a long look at himself in the mirror. Later, he had a long look at his life and career through a beer mug. The next morning he went to work, submitted his resignation, cleared his desk and walked out the door, never to return. He was 51.
Since then, he has been traveling the world, mostly in Asia so far. On a tight budget, staying at hostels and campgrounds, eating local food, exploring nature via hiking, biking and kayaking. He still enjoys it.
Bush Whacked
He told me about one of his adventures some years back. He was on a mountain-biking trip, alone, somewhere in the Australian countryside (I forget exactly where). He was on a back road, and looking at his map he saw that if he cut cross-country for a few miles he could save a lot of time, and reach another back trail to explore.
So he left the dirt road and proceeded across. But soon he encountered bush. It grew thicker and thicker as he went, entangling and scratching him. He thought about turning back, but that would be a waste of time and he would not get to see the new area, so he pressed ahead.
About 3 hours later he emerged, dripping with sweat, cut and bruised, and exhausted from the bush-battle. To make matters worse, as he looked up the new trail in the direction he needed to go, he saw what amounted to a hill so big it could almost be called a mountain.
A Broken Man Loses His Mind
Max said –
When I saw that enormous, long hill, I sat down, no energy left, feeling defeated. I knew I couldn’t get up that hill, riding or walking. My body was aching already. I felt like crying out of sheer frustration, not like a little school-girl, but like someone who has just realized that they don’t really have any balls after all. I felt miserable.
After a time, I looked at my bike. I thought fuck it, if I’m going to cry, at least I can do it sitting on my bike. So I got up and sat on my bike. Suddenly, it seemed like I was plunged into the worst depression of my life. Even though there was still daylight, I felt plunged into darkness.
My whole being seemed to be not-me, if that makes sense. Not the ‘woe-is-me’ me anyway. I couldn’t feel my body anymore. It was like I was in a different world. I’m not sure how long this lasted, but it must have been a considerable time, because suddenly I ‘came back to reality’.
And my legs were pumping the bike pedals like furious steam pistons. And I was almost at the top of the mountain. And I don’t really know how the hell I got there. It was like something that was bigger than me, yet both inside and outside me, transported me.
For the last few hundred feet I kept staring down at my legs, dried blood from the bushes everywhere. What amazed me was that they didn’t feel tired at all, and I felt no pain.
When I got to the top, I stopped and looked around the at countryside below me, at the hill I had just cycled up without stopping, and without me knowing what the hell was going on. And instead of depression, I felt elation, and peace, of a kind I had never felt before.
I realized that in surrendering so completely to my weakness, in acknowledging to myself how utterly pathetic I was, somehow my little ego, the ego of self-pity and fear, cracked. And this allowed my real self to start to emerge. At least, that is how I interpret it now. And that is how and when I stumbled upon the Zen of the Zombie Jellyfish.
We Continued Talking
I raised my eyebrows and smiled a little. ‘Zombie Jelly Fish’ seemed like a bit of a mixed metaphor to me. A brain-dead flesh-eating human and a spineless sea-creature. Not exactly like the fierce eagle or the powerful tiger metaphor that many might use. He was kind enough to elaborate over another beer.
Image - Looking inside the Mona Lisa -
He went on -
Think about zombies. Mindless creatures, no thoughts, just all instinct.
I was thinking insane, diseased humans, but I didn’t interrupt.
So that is how I was able to bike up that hill. My mind switched off, my body took over and did the job. I was almost at the top before I even realized it. Now, look at my arm.
He held his thin right arm outstretched, and jiggled the flesh back and forth.
As you can see, I’m no Arnold Schwarzenegger. Not much muscle, and what is there is soft and supple. But that gives me speed and flexibility. I’m ready for any situation, because I can move my body, I’m not stiff.
He then flexed his arm up and down very quickly to demonstrate. It was fast, I have to admit.
So you see, I’m like a jellyfish floating relaxed in the sea, ready to take advantage of any situation, to seize the moment, always supple and flexible to changing currents.
Image - Pixabay CC0
I have to admit I was impressed by how he had extracted the positive qualities out of two things that most people would think of negatively, especially zombies. I realized I was in the presence of a Philosopher, or a Spiritual Seeker, or at least a good story-teller and drinking buddy, and I told him so.
He beamed at me, and started to imitate a zombie jellyfish floating in the sea, eyes closed, arms waving slowly imitating the act of floating along. Moving along very gracefully, it appeared. He might have made a great interpretive dancer in another life.
Max 2.0
I asked how this profound realization had affected his life.
He said –
I find my life a lot easier and more enjoyable now. For example, if I get to a hostel, and it’s a shitty, noisy hostel, I don’t get upset. I don’t worry about it. I realize: I’m in a shitty noisy hostel, that’s where I am NOW. If the food is bad, then the food is bad. That is the experience that I’m having. And sometimes I’m experiencing delicious food. Then I carry on with life.
Same with travel or people or anything. If I’m happy that’s good, but I don’t get wrapped up in it. If I’m feeling less than happy, that’s good too. Because I’m not getting my emotions tangled up in the situation. I’m experiencing it, then I’m floating to the next experience, moment by moment, day by day.
After I got to the top of the hill, I realized that the misery and depression I felt at the bottom came from my little mind, my ego, the limited me, and that those thoughts caused my body to resist trying. When my little mind got out of the way, my big mind (spirit?) and body got the job done. They got me to the top.
Now, I try to allow that process in every situation. It is a practice, and I’m still practicing.
Time and Tide Wait for No Man
We both sat there, finishing our drinks. It was 9 pm, and we both had to be up very early. Max was off on a boat adventure, island-hopping throughout the Indonesian archipelago. I had to get some business done at a government office, not a town-planning office, thank God. So we said our good-byes.
Image - The outside table once occupied by the Zombie Jellyfish -
As I watched him float away down the street, it seemed to me that if nothing else, it had been an entertaining evening of conversation.
And so friends… no matter what crap life throws at you, no matter what you are experiencing, good or bad, no matter what you have to do, strive to be like the Zombie Jellyfish. Float with the energy of life. One moment at a time, here and now, wave by wave, step by step, pedal by pedal. It is a meditation, a way of being.
Or something like that.
