Vote for Change

I just got the chance to sit down and watch Barack Obama's inaugural address online, and I have to say that it brought tears to my eyes. Here I am, sitting in an internet cafe in Thailand wearing my Texans for Obama t-shirt and crying. A girl from Holland sitting next to me asked if I was ok, and the only response I could muster was to point at the screen. She smiled, gave me a hug, and said, "I think the whole world is proud of him today."

I'm still sitting in the same chair, but an hour later. I watched Obama's speech twice and then sat in stunned silence thinking about what he had said. I'm having problems trying to write down my thoughts because my mind is racing and my heart is beating loudly in my chest. So instead, I will try to write down what this speech means to me.

It has been a long time since I can honestly say I am proud to be an American. A very long time. My first big traveling trip was ten months in Europe in 2005-2006, where I spent a large percentage of my 20th year listening to people complain about my country, how George W. Bush was destroying the world, and how it seemed to somehow be my fault even though I didn't vote for him. It also did not help that I was born in Texas at all. I felt devastated and ashamed, and started hiding my accent and the fact that I am American. I absorbed their hatred, holding America accountable for the actions of a greedy and mis-lead government. Although it has been hard, I am trying to forgive and move on.

I have known from an early age how lucky I am to have been born in a first-world country. As a child I was introduced to Mexico and to the poverty, over-population, polution, and corruption they deal with on a daily basis. I know that being born with the freedoms of speech and religion are something we take for granted every day, and there are so many people in this world who smile through sufferings we cannot even imagine. And through it all, I still felt judged and ashamed to be an American.

Three years later I have a different outlook on the world at large. I know that the media has stereotyped and destroyed a lot of beauty that America holds. I know that over the last eight years our actions have landed us in a heap of hatred and anxiety, and I have felt trapped, as if we might never escape. I feel that our over-consumption and greed will come back to haunt us if we do not rectify our mistakes soon. I know that America is a beautiful country filled with beautiful people, and I feel so blessed and lucky to be a part of this turning point in our history. I mailed my voting ballot from London and popped open a bottle of champagne there at 10:00 a.m. that cold November morning while Brittney and I stared at the TV screen in awe and disbelief that Obama had actually been elected. It felt good, so good, to be proud of my countrymen and woman again, and to know that it was a step, even if just a small one, in the right direction.

What can we expect now?

Barack Obama is not a saint. He cannot snap his fingers and make the world a better place. He is a strong man who was handed all of the world's problems and is expected to fix them fast. Yet these problems are not just his, and not just Americas. We, as Citizens Of The World, all have a responsibility to do what we can to help make and inspire change. We cannot wait for the politicians of our country and other countries to make all the decisions and sit idly by hoping some good might come out of it. Blaming other people in other places will get us nowhere, nor will blaming ourselves. We all know the tasks ahead of us will be tough and many, but with inspiration in the form of my new president, I have hope.

A favorite quote from Barack Obama's inauguration speech:

"Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land- a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, that the next generation must lower its sights. Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America - they will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord."

Hope over fear.
Unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

This is what I wish for my country and for all countries. I have faith in the good of this world, that it will triumph through adversity, and that we will someday be able to put our differences aside and share this beautiful world we live in together in peace.


If you want to watch Obama's speech or read it:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/obama_inauguration/7840646.stm

Taking Names

Currently my favorite phrase in Thai is "Farang mai ting tong," which means "White girl not crazy." Although I'm sure some would beg to differ, including myself actually.

For some unknown reason I have recently signed up for a month of Muay Thai boxing training. Why have I signed up for this? Only Buddha knows. Perhaps it's because I was getting sick of the travelers' party scene. Perhaps I'm looking for some semblence of health and fitness. Perhaps I am ting tong. The good news is that I actually think it's working.

Today I finished my fourth day of training. We train once or twice a day, two hours each session, six days a week. I haven't had a drop of alcohol in six days. I can barely lift my arms to type this. I have come to terms with a new pain: shin pain. Shin pain feels like your shins are bleeding from the inside, but only forming bruises on the outside as you kick the trainer's gloves or punching bags over and over again. I have a bruise on my right ribcage from my third day when I missed a block out of pure exhaustion and got kicked. As I whimpered softly in pain Tong, my trainer for that day, felt my ribcage and looked up with a smile. "Not broken.......jab! Uppercut!" I haven't missed a block since.

A typical rundown of a two hour training session, not including the run that usually starts at seven, starts with a jump rope, which is good because from third to fifth grade I got blue ribbons in a jumping rope contest. Which actually means nothing. Then we warm up together, which I like because it includes a lot of yoga and that's the only thing I'm better at than anyone else. After we line up to practice techniques with our jab, punch, uppercut, cross, elbow, straight kick, knee, and side kick. A trainer will then grab you, strap on some boxing gloves, and go for a one-on-one endurance session on pain. For two hours we are constantly punching, kicking, weaving, and blocking, so of course we end with a measly 300 push-ups, pull-ups or sit-ups, all of which I cannot do for the life of me. I opt for 200 crunches with Tong yelling, "higher...higher!" and me yelling, "Mai! Chai yen yen!"

That brings me to my second favorite phrase. "Chai yen yen," means "Take it easy."

I love all the trainers, but Tong is my favorite. The only English he speaks are words like punch, block, elbow, kick, good, faster, and sissy. He always laughs at me because I'm incapable of having a badass Thai fighter face and look more like a fatigued Minnie Mouse. We spend most of our time laughing at each other, which is cool considering he used to be the number one Muay Thai boxing champion of Thailand. After a while Bee will seperate the giggling idiots and he'll make me work hard on my technique, or lack there of. It's Bee's gym, and he used to be a number one champion also. So was Tree. And Ay. And Egg. So basically I'm paying for some of the best Thai fighters in Thailand to kick my ass into shape six days a week. And when I can finally pick my broken body off the mats, it's time to go to work.

Here in this tiny little town called Pai in the northern mountains of Thailand I am running a vintage clothing store. I met an English Reiki Master named Allen who was given this little shop, and has no idea what to do with it. So he just kinda gave it to me to advertise, take care of, and generally be creative with. It's a nice place to relax, wind down, read my book, practice my fire spinning and meet some cool people. We split the profits, which isn't much, but it's enough to keep me alive. He's also given me a great deal on some Reiki lessons, which is energy healing, that would add on nicely to my massage practice.

Yesterday my friend Andy, who is doing the training with me, cursed me for being able to land on my feet so quickly, seeing as I've been here for a week. I'm not sure why or how this always seems to happen, but I'm thankful that it does. I'm happy here in my little town with only three streets. I live in a bamboo hut, which is absolutely freezing in the mornings but beautiful in the sunny afternoons. I train, I work, I eat great Thai food, and I'm usually sleep by nine or ten at night.

Rachel the Social Butterfly is taking a break.

Rachel the Muay Thai fighter is kicking ass and taking names.

I just found out that I'm sparring on Monday. And yes, my toenails are painted shiny pink. We'll see how long I last.

Outwardly Looking In

I've been meaning to write for a while, but I've been looking for the right words. I want to talk about my generation, our generation, and how we express ourselves. Some may chuckle to themselves, some may raise an eyebrow in silent disagreement, others I am hoping will agree.

Last week I got my fourth tattoo. I love it. I will always love it because it is important to me. It means something to me now as it will in fifty years, because it connects me to my favorite person in the world: my younger brother Sam. To describe it is simple. It's at the back of my neck, written in Thai. The top word says "Nong Chai" which means Little Brother, and it's followed by four lines of the Awakening prayer:

"Evoking the presence of the Great Compassion, let us fill our hearts with our own compassion towards ourselves and towards all living beings."

My brother was there to hold my hand for an hour and a half, while a small Thai man stabbed me thousands of times with a small piece of bamboo with intense precision, in traditional Thai bamboo tattoo style on the island of Ko Tao in Thailand. It's not this tattoo that inspires this writing, it was actually my first. I want to talk about my generation and how we define ourselves. We are what I like to call the Tattoo Generation. We express ourselves outwardly, through our clothing, hair, piercings, tattoos, ideals, peace protests, poetry slams, rock concerts, and style. What were once private issues whispered in the safe confines of your home are now splashed across bumper stickers, tshirt logos and the headline of the newspaper.

Yet we are not the first to spawn these great ideals of change. My parents' generation of the sixties were the first, and I am merely passing on what they taught me. They taught me that change is possible. That breaking from the norm with some radical new ideas may just be what this world needs. That if we are unhappy with our governments, we have the power to have our voices heard. That it's the differences in all of us that make this world unique and will lead us forward into the future. Today I feel a different type of revolution taking hold.

I believe that in ten or twenty years it won't matter how you appear outwardly, but who you are inside. I wish we could be there now, but I find judgment at every corner from those unwilling to open their minds. Yes, I have dreadlocks, a giant tattoo on my forearm, upper back, lower back and ankle. Yes, I think they are the most beautiful pieces of art anyone could have on their body. No, I never want to be or work where someone would overlook my skills or personality because of them. No, I would never change for anyone but myself.

Some people will say that I'll never be able to get a "real" job, and to that I can only say, "Promise?" I laugh to think at what my mother is thinking right now. She is the foundation of sensibility and logic mixed in with her wild spirit, and yes, she's almost always right. She says that when I'm old all my tattoos will be big, splotchy blobs, and she's probably right, again. The point, though, is that those big, beautiful unrecognizable blobs will be the reminder of my youth, my carefree, happy youth. I will take these years, live them and love them, and occasionally paint pictures on my skin of loves, lights, and memories. Every tattoo is a little piece of me that I want to show and share with the world, and I can see nothing wrong with that.

What I think I'm asking for, from those who disbelieve or disagree, is a little peace and a little acceptance. You don't have to like it. You don't have to agree with it. But seeing as how you can do nothing about it, I'd have to say it'll be a lot easier for all of us to move forward, together, if we could embrace our differences instead of fight about them. There is enough hate and judgement in this world. We should be standing together.