What is Paradise if You Can’t Share It?

By noradunn On September 28, 2008 · 8 Comments

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This post is for anybody who travels a lot, lives abroad, or
has moved away from somebody they care about.

I could talk until I’m blue in the face about how
unbelievably beautiful the place where I currently live is. But if nobody sees
it, or sees us flourishing in it, is it really paradise?

Sound familiar? (If a tree falls in the woods, and nobody hears it…)

A childhood friend of mine moved to the UK
shortly after high school. She created a life for herself there, courageously
leaving all the comforts of the Canadian home she grew up in, just as she was
getting her adulthood legs under her. And she did admirably well. She created a
social structure for herself, explored different career paths, and most of all
– enjoyed the cultural and musical scene that attracted her there from Canada
in the first place.

During the time she lived there, she invited me (and others)
to come visit her, over and over and over again. And for some reason, I always
had a pretty good reason why I couldn’t go. First it was the cost of airfare.
Then it was the lack of time off. Next it was a relationship that I couldn’t
envision taking time away from. It was always something. She lamented to me
over and over again: “Why don’t you come? You have a free place to stay – all
you need to do is get here!” she would cry, every time her pleas falling on
deaf ears.

And before I knew it, almost 10 years had passed, and she
moved back to Canada.
Now – I realize what I missed in not going to visit her in the UK.
If I want to go now, I’ll pay dearly for the experience; not having anybody to
show me around, put me up, and just plain offer a little piece of home and
long-lost friendship in a place far away from what I called “home” at the time.

I wasn’t the only person not to visit her either; she
wondered aloud and in letters to me regularly why people aren’t knocking on her
door. But everybody back home always had a compelling reason why they couldn’t
come and visit. New jobs, new homes, new debts, new lovers – life continued on
where she left them off, and although friends and family never forgot about
her, they moved on in their own ways too.

Traveling full-time for almost two years now, I too feel the
effects of life continuing on without me. Not that I had any delusions of
everything coming to a crashing halt the minute I left town; no. And most
people near and dear to me have managed to find ways to maintain contact too.

But there are a few times during my travels when I have felt
especially lonely; especially far away; or even especially happy (as I
generally am now), and wondered how I could share it with those I love and
miss.

My boyfriend & I of course create our own home together, and in
times when we lack the standard definition of “home”, we redefine it for
ourselves, finding refuge in each others company and companionship. So no,
we’re not lonely. This is not a cry for help.

Instead, this is an observation of how life goes on no
matter what, and the people you know and love create their own dramas, even in
your absence.

When we were in Thailand
working tirelessly to raise funds and awareness of Cyclone Nargis in Burma, we were shocked at what seemed to be a complete and utter lack of
support from our closest family and friends. We received donations and words of
encouragement from complete strangers around the world, and yet those who we
most expected to hear from were the least responsive. And it’s not like we
wanted money – just a few simple words of love and support would have done. Or
at least a few more words than we received. As it was, we cried ourselves to
sleep nightly, on behalf of the homeless and starving cyclone survivors, as
well as for ourselves – homeless and starving in our own way too.

I called out a dear friend of mine halfway through the
ordeal – sending her an email asking if she knew what was going on and
questioning her lack of response. She immediately fired back a reply, saying
she had been reading everything on the blog and otherwise, and following our journey
with baited breath – even going so far as to take our daily reports to the
students she taught (as a high school teacher) to inspire them to make a
difference in the world. And yet for some reason she hadn’t sent any personal
words to keep me going….she figured I was too busy.

Upon post-crisis reflection, other family members and friends
had any number of excuses for not being more forthcoming with support, each
explanation (if an explanation was even given) as varied as the people who gave
them. The common denominator between it all though, as we have come to realize,
is that life simply goes on. People have to deal with their own local
tragedies, victories, and ordeals, and when you are as far away as we are, it
is hard to understand anything about what life is like for the other person,
much less to reach out in any way.

And so here we are, in an Australian paradise. We know we’re not off our rockers for saying so; a local friend
visited us the other day, and was shocked and amazed at where we live and how
good we have it here. And he lives here!
He knows how beautiful the area is already!

Yet, in our little paradise where we expect to be for
months to come, we expect that very few if any people will visit us. Many would
like to, some even intend to. But when push comes to shove, life goes on. And
as the person who “left home” to begin with, it is not anybody else’s
responsibility but my own to maintain relationships with those left behind.
They won’t forget about me – but if I am in paradise, it will be only me and
the other creatures of this Eden who will ever truly understand what my Paradise
really is.

8 responses to What is Paradise if You Can’t Share It?

Jonathan Lowe said on December 30, 2008

Know just what you mean. My major frustration in life is that I have to do stuff and go places alone. No one seems to have time, although they do have time to just sit wand watch television. I know this because, although they say they are too busy, they always seem to know the scores of all the current ball games.
Jacob Bielanski said on October 1, 2008

It’s funny, I sent pages and pages of glowing updates the first time I traveled for an extended stretch. Like with you, few words came back from those closest. When things hit the fan, though, I got many replies to the email I wrote about our misery.

I guess it’s what we ask in the end. Even today, I send my brother little bits here and there, expecting to prompt some response. Frustrated by his constant inability to write back about my book recommendations or links to interesting articles, I finally confronted him face to face “Don’t you ever read your emails?”

“Yeah, I get them all”

“Do you ever think to respond!?”

“You never ask me a question.”

I guess people only feel involved if they think YOU need THEM.

Great post. Thanks for stirring up the memories.
Anne Merritt said on September 30, 2008

This was a great post! I’ve lived abroad too and know how it feels to be so excited about an experience, you’re keen to share it with people you love back home. I think some people may seem nonchalant about your travels because they’re looking ahead to when the travels are over and you’re close to them again (geographically, at least). But as Tim said, you’re always grateful for the people who do visit. I’ve had friendships strengthen deeply when people come to visit me abroad.

This blog was very thoughtful. Good luck on your travels!
Hal Amen said on September 29, 2008

I think there’s also a certain sense of abandonment our loved ones feel when we “leave home.” I mean, we travel thousands of miles across the globe, seeking excitement and new experiences…that don’t involve them. And I think that can be hard to cope with. (Maybe “abandonment” is too strong a word, but you know what I mean.) In addition to the time and distance separating us, this underlying emotion can get in the way.
Nora Dunn said on September 29, 2008

Thank you for your comments, all! I knew that the Matador community would understand…

@Turner: I think the likes of Facebook are contributing to the death of true communication. Sure, it’s easy to stay “on top of” the lives of 200 or so of your closest friends (or people you met once and connected with on FB!), but you nailed it: those daily updates aren’t a reasonable gauge of what is really going on; it’s the lazy man’s way out (I’m guilty as charged as well).

I wonder: being writers and usually putting our lives on effective display with our personal blogs and such, the folks back home are getting regular updates, pictures, and a captured feeling of what is going on with us. In effect, they feel that they are communicating with us…except they aren’t. It’s a one-sided deal. I have family members & friends who say my blog is a “life-saver” because it makes them feel so close to me…

…I’m inspired. I’m going to send my best friend a personal email now! Ta.
Julie Schwietert Collazo said on September 29, 2008

Nora-

I really relate to your surprise and frustration about the lack of support of family and friends for a project started abroad. When I started the Voces de Mompox project with my husband in Colombia, I had a lot more support from people I didn’t know well than those who are close to me. As I thought about it, I realized that one of the reasons that the people close to me may be less overtly supportive in the way I’d like is because they just aren’t connected, as you articulate so well, to where I am or what I’m doing. Thus, they don’t feel the same level of investment in the place and people as I do. These moments, though, are some of the toughest on the road because they reveal the divide that often exists between us and our loved ones. Thanks for your honest sharing.
Tim Patterson said on September 29, 2008

really quality blog, Nora – I’m so grateful to my friends who DID make the effort to visit me overseas – always special to share the experience with people from back home.
Turner Wright said on September 29, 2008

I’m already in a more pensive mood than I should be. Very well articulated.

“People have to deal with their own local tragedies, victories, and ordeals, and when you are as far away as we are, it is hard to understand anything about what life is like for the other person, much less to reach out in any way.”

I’m often reading my friends’ updates on Facebook, thinking “oh, I know what’s going on in his or her life now, so no need to send a message or call asking to catch up.” In reality, I just don’t know how people think of my travels either; on the occasions I run into them back home, we talk, but I rarely hear from them otherwise.

At least you have a significant other.