It's Always Better to Let Go

Yes! I am home! And it feels fantastic!!! I am sitting at my mom's kitchen table, looking out at the glorious Olympic mountains as we speak. It is surreal. I have dreamed about this moment for ages. :-)

My week in London visiting Martin and meeting his family was fantastic. Visiting Emily in Massachusetts and meeting her little baby Gus was wonderful...and in a nut shell, that's it for now, because this blog is about something that happened two weeks ago. It's more of a short story so I hope you find time to enjoy it!


When I fly, I am eternally mesmerized by being able to look at the tops of clouds thus my preference is always to sit in a window seat. At this very moment, I happen to be sitting in one, on Jet Airways flight 333 headed to London. This is my second flight today; my first was from Bangkok to Mumbai. The alarm in my Bangkok hotel room went off at 5am this morning and after living on this side of the world for the past 513 days, today marked my very last morning waking up in Asia. It is time for me to come home…this life-changing chapter of my life has now come to an end.

After a week of them, I said my last emotional good-bye in Bali yesterday to my local friend who drove me to the airport. I then arrived in Thailand two flights later, for the first time in over five months, and the memories of my year there came rushing back and danced around in my head for the next, and my last, 18 hours in Thailand. I stayed in the center of town and walked the streets of Bangkok for a few hours last night to soak up my last tastes of Thai culture (literally and figuratively).

In the past hour, I have been in Mumbai, the city of that horrific terrorist attack just six months ago. Flying in, I experienced my first ever glimpse of India. The only color evident was brown. Rows and rows of basic box-like apartment buildings stretched in every direction. The buildings, a dirty white, looked brown. The hills were brown. Even the ocean was brown. Something like 16 million people live in Mumbai and the poverty was blatantly obvious. Shantytowns dotted the landscape and even jetted up against the barbed wire fence of the airport boundary. With my camera pressed against the double-paned, plastic window of the airplane, I attempted to capture the juxtaposition of the rows of sleek, jet airplanes with the rows of dilapidated shacks in the background.

My layover in Mumbai was only about an hour. I am now back in the air at this moment, with nothing but the glorious tops of fluffy white clouds in my view out the window. This marks my fourth flight in the past two days, and in nine hours, I will be arriving in London for a long awaited, almost Hollywood-esque reunion with my good friend, Martin. We met 13 years ago while we were both backpacking through New Zealand. The last time I saw him was in 2000 when we spent 10 days traveling together in Costa Rica. A lot has changed since then…I am excited to finally be able to meet his wife, Sharon, and their three young children.

But the picture I just painted is actually not the impetus behind my desire to write today. What I feel compelled to share is actually the experience I just had at the Mumbai airport…

A little background story I must recount first…I believe in God, or in a Higher Power, or in Spirit, or the effects of Karma…whatever you want to call it. And one of the key lessons that I feel this Power has been presenting to me during my life over the past year or so is that of Letting Go…Wow! Quick tangent! I just looked out the window and saw this sea of coral red color. At first glance, given the wave like appearance of its flat and expansive surface, I had the fleeting thought of, “I never knew the minerals in water could turn it into such fiery red!” But then I realized it wasn’t water. It was desert. I am presently flying over the Middle East. Maybe its Iraq, or Afghanistan. I can’t even imagine the turmoil going on in the lands below me right now…so I will do what we all do in today’s world to be able to continue on and not feel paralyzed by thoughts of this atrocious situation…I will divert my attention back to what I was doing…funny though isn’t it, that I was just talking about God?

Anyway…Letting Go. That’s been the lesson that has been appearing before me on numerous occasions for the past year or so. One of my many stories demonstrating this was when I needed to make my checked baggage lighter when headed to Cambodia with Dad and Jean back in November. My dear friend, Manana, had just sent me a care-package of all of my favorite bathroom products from home…organic jojoba oil, my favorite natural body lotion, Tom’s toothpaste, Aveda shampoo and conditioner…. I was in heaven to be reunited with these treats from home. They were the most prized possessions in my bag so, since they were quite heavy, I put them in my carry-on bag and felt safer with them near me anyway… BAD IDEA!

Silly me. I had forgotten about the endless list of forbidden items that are permitted in one’s carry on baggage…. liquid bottles above 100g being the most pertinent in my case. As I entered security, I heard the dreaded statement, “Maam, can you open your bag please. Do you have any liquid or creams in your bag?” I froze. I acted dumb. I acted innocent. I acted like I didn’t understand. “Maam, come over here please. Open your bag.”

I don’t have any enemies in my life but this woman was quickly becoming one. One by one, she took out each prized bottle and swiftly announced, “Maam, you must leave all of these with me.”

“I don’t understand, “ I pathetically pleaded, “I only thought this rule applied to pure liquids? These are just creams.”

“Maam, you cannot take any of this with you.”

“How about if I only take 100g of each with me. Here I can put some in this little plastic container that I have and this empty bottle.”

“Maam, you cannot take any of this with you.”

“How about this one.? Its small.”

“Maam, its over 100g. You cannot take it with you.”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t I take this with me?”…My maturity level reverted to that of a five year old about to have a temper tantrum. I stood there in disbelief, trying to grasp the reality that I was going to have to part from my most prized possessions. The drill sergeant in front of me just stood their staring at me with her firm stare. I just stood there, unable to walk away.

“Maam, I need to get back to work. You must go to your plane.”

I looked around, as if in search for someone who would allow me to break the rules…but to no avail. Thoughts of rebellion entered my mind. ‘Maybe if I stand here long enough, I could sneak a few of them into my bag when she happened to glance away for a moment… But what if she figured it out once I walked away and then walkie-talkied someone at my gate who would then arrest me for bringing explosive body lotion on board? Do I really have to walk away from all of this?’ My mature voice finally peeped in, ‘Yes, you do Jody. Its time to walk away. Let go.’

With the level of excitement I had experienced from being reunited with these material items, representative of home, after living in this foreign land for the past year, this unexpected departure from them literally made me start to cry. I trudged along to the gate and tried to flood my mind with what a great opportunity this was for practicing the Buddhist ideal of non-attachment, as tears of powerless frustration ran down my eyes. That was last October.

Fast forward, back to today… So there I was in the Bangkok airport at the EXACT same security check point as I was in the above scenario over six months ago, when I heard that dreadfully familiar statement. “Maam, can you open your bag please. Do you have any liquid or creams in your bag?”

One thing I don’t like about flying is how dry my skin becomes. I had been annoyed by this fact yesterday on my flights from Bali to Bangkok, so I was proud of myself for remembering to put some lotion in my bag this morning to avoid the same annoyance today. And, not to mention that once again, it was one of my most prized possessions that Manana had recently sent me….this amazingly heavenly mango body butter…and the container it was in was 180g.

“Maam, you cannot take this with you.”

“Well how about if I only take 100g of it with me? Here I can put some in this little plastic container that I have and this empty jar.”

“Maam, that jar is too big. It must be in a container that is smaller than 100g. You must leave it here.”

“Well, I’ll just use this little plastic container. And how about in this plastic bag?”

“Maam.”

With the audacity that even I am amazed by which periodically boils up from inside of me, I found myself defiantly putting some of the lotion into my little plastic container. Luckily (or not, for the sake of my karma) this woman wasn’t half the drill sergeant of the woman in my previous encounter. She not only looked around, but she walked away. With only the stubbornness of someone seemingly born to dismiss obeying rules they deem as trivial, I then quickly transferred the lotion not only into the little plastic container but also into the oversized jar, quickly shoved them into my bag, and then calmly but swiftly walked away, successfully, or so I thought...

I arrive at the gate with my heart pounding. No walkie-talkies. No one calling my name. I show the smiley woman at the entrance to the fairway my boarding pass and proceed to my seat. I must admit, I sat there in disbelief of my own defiance. ‘Jody, is this meek feeling of joy that you have from keeping your lotion coupled with this heavy guilt you’re now experiencing really worth it? Didn’t you just blog the other day about how life consists of endless opportunities to polish one’s character? Wouldn’t a more character building choice had been to just let go of your silly lotion (that you instead chose to risk serious punishment for by keeping) and obeyed the rules, regardless of how trivial you deem them to be?’ The only way I can explain my behavior in a way that I believe every human can relate to is that experience of feeling compelled to do something that mentally you know is not in your best interest, yet you find yourself doing it anyway.

I relaxed and enjoyed the next 9 hours to Mumbai, somewhat happy that I still had my lotion. Now, a little important side note I need to mention…somewhere around year two or three of med school, I became a nighttime teeth grinder. My dentist mentioned this to me as she saw the erosion on the tops of my back teeth and suggested I get a night guard, at a price tag of $500. Given my status of only living on loans at the time, I couldn’t justify spending the money. Luckily one day I found this do-it-yourself version at the drug store for the fantastically cheap price of only $20! I heated up some water on the stove to warm up the little rubber arch thing, bit down on it when it was still warm, put it into cold water, and then voila! I had my very own custom-fit night guard, albeit a super cheap one. The issue with it was that I felt like a hockey player every night when I put it in my mouth. It was basically an oversized piece of rubber that didn’t even allow me to close my mouth so I often used to wake up with drool all over my pillow.

But, I love my beautiful teeth, so I wore that glob of rubber in my mouth religiously for the next several years, albeit not the exact same piece; I bought a new one every few months or so once it started to look so frighteningly dilapidated I didn’t dare put it in my mouth. Once I was employed and living in Thailand, I discovered a fabulous hospital in Bangkok. Bumrungrad International Hospital employs only top-notch physicians and yet services there cost a mere fraction of what it would cost for the same thing in the states. So what service did I take advantage of there?! A professional, slim, and comfortable mouth guard of course! After years of sleeping with that huge glob of rubber in my mouth, I absolutely LOVE my new slim and sleek mouth guard!

So why did I tell you this story? Well, because the little plastic container for my mouth guard is the container I put some of my precious lotion in. My mouth guard I then casually threw into my bag…which I then put into a plastic bag once I got to my seat and tucked away into the seat pocket in front of me for easy access once I was ready for a nap…fell asleep without it…woke up in a daze being told to bring my seat forward to prepare for landing…exited the plane…walked for fifteen minutes along the airport corridors passing armed security guards…through another security check-point…to the gate of my next plane which was soon going to start boarding…when it hit me and I started to freak out. ‘Oh shit! I forgot my mouth guard!’

I sprinted back to the security check-point and pleaded with them to let me back through and run back to the plane I had just departed from. I suddenly recognized one of the flight attendants on the other side of the gate and waved her over to me in hopes of having her assistance.

“Hi! I was just on your flight and I left something on the plane that I really need to get! Can you please help me get back to the plane to retrieve it?!”

“Maam, the plane has already left.”

“What?! I just got off it a few minutes ago. How can it already be gone?!”

Sitting on a table swinging her feet, with her arms crossed and a look of ‘hey-lady-I’m-off-duty-now,’ she replied, “Maam, you’re too late. It’s already gone.” My heart dropped as I quickly realized the fact that this woman had absolutely zero interest in ever being nominated for the ‘most-helpful-flight-attendant-in-the-world’ award. But I was determined to be reunited with my precious, sleek, and slim mouth guard.

“Can’t you walkie-talkie someone on the plane to see if they could have someone bring it to my next flight?’

Feet still swinging; arms still crossed, “I don’t have a walkie-talkie.”

Feeling the need to bring in a little charm and perhaps a slight white lie to get her to help me, I beseeched, “Thank you so much for helping me understand this but I’m a bit confused as to how the plane can be ‘gone.’ Doesn’t it take a while to unload all the bags? It’s a medical device that I left on board and it is very important that I get it back. Could we please just walk down to the gate to see if the plane by chance is still there?”

My ploy worked. “Come with me maam.” She begrudgingly slid herself off the table and at a rate which would make that of a snail seem high-speed, she walked me toward the gate. The adrenaline pumping through me made ‘keeping up’ with her an incredibly painful task.

Although her feet were walking with me, her mind was clearly resisting. In an obvious attempt to let out her frustration by making me fear and regret my perseverance, she declared, “Maam, by doing this you’re going to miss your connecting flight. The next plane to London isn’t until tomorrow, so that means you’re going to have to get a hotel in town. That will cost you a lot of money.”

With only the determination of Jody Stanislaw, I confidently replied, “I still have 45 minutes before my next flight leaves. I thank you immensely for walking back with me but shouldn’t we go a little faster to not miss it, in case it’s still there?”

In an obvious display that this lady really didn’t give a damn, she replied, “We’re fine. Just calm down. The plane is already going to be gone.”

Both sets of footsteps continued forward, mine with determination, and hers with ironic willingness. We were just about there when she victoriously declared, “See, it’s not there.” I kept walking forward because the gate hadn’t actually come into view yet…but a few seconds later, it did…and I was right.

“It’s still there!” I didn’t dare make eye contact with her in lieu of my victory and her defeat and since my mission was still not complete, I knew my next move had to be to express my sincere gratitude. “Thank you so much for walking me back here! I really appreciate your help!” This was a good strategy because when we arrived at the gate, the big metal door was closed and the walkway to the plane had been retracted.

In yet another one of her acts of ironic willingness, she picked up the phone by the gate to presumably call one of the many employees who were working on the tarmac to unload the baggage, as she concurrently mumbled to me, “Its too late. You’re not going to be able to get it.” I totally ignored this statement and confidently informed her of where it was. “It’s in a little plastic bag in the seat pocket in front of seat 15C. Thank you again for your help!” I just stood there with my steadfast determination in anxious anticipation of her response once she spoke with hopefully someone much more willing to help than she, on the other end of the phone. After a short discussion in her native tongue thus of no comprehension to me, she said, “They already looked. Its not there.”

Given her pattern of replying to me with falsehoods, I didn’t let this extinguish my determination. “It’s very small and is clear plastic. I am sure it is there. Would it be possible if I could please board the plane to check for myself?”

As something no less than a minor miracle, the big metal door suddenly clicked open. We proceeded down the walkway and since it had already retracted from the plane, she then picked up another phone at the end of the walkway and had another short discussion of unknown meaning to me…as I anxiously stood there with a victorious feeling comparable to that of an Olympic sprinter just seconds away from being the first to cross the finish line.

Once again, I heard that glorious click sound which opened the door to the stairs leading down to the tarmac. As she motioned down the stairs, she mumbled, “Hurry up maam.” I ran down the stairs and then, in her now habitual comical irony, she yelled to me, “Slow down!”

I was now standing where I have never seen a passenger ever standing alone before, down on the tarmac amongst the team of baggage unloaders and plane cleaner-upers. One of the men let me up the stairs to the plane, I pass by a swarming team of men vehemently cleaning up the plane, finally arrive at seat 15C…and then, drum roll please, I successfully retrieved my precious, sleek, slim, custom-fit, beloved mouth guard. VICTORY!

I smile at the swarms of employees around me as I run back down the stairs of the plane, across the tarmac, back up the stairs to the retractable walkway, smile at my new best friend and thank her profusely, as I prepare to sprint back to the gate of my next plane. “Hey maam. Slow down. I need to escort you back to the plane.” I took a deep breath in anticipation of having to once again endure the painful task of ‘keeping-up’ with her.

“Oh, okay. But shouldn’t we walk a little faster since my next plane is likely already boarding. I don’t want to miss my plane.”

“Don’t be ridiculously. They’ll wait for you.” This lady was killing me; her irony and contradictions were becoming more and more humorous by the minute. After realizing I still had at least 30 minutes to spare, I surrendered to her snail like pace, now at ease with the fact that my beloved mouth guard and I would both make the plane to London. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I owed this woman an immense amount of gratitude for her ‘willingness’ to help me. Acknowledging that any frustration I had with her was now in the past, and reminding myself that in every moment of life we always have the opportunity to operate from a clean slate, I felt compelled to now be as kind to this woman as possible and thought I’d engage in some chit chat, expressing my interest in her, which I always authentically have with every person I meet.

“So do you live here in Mumbai? How long have you worked for the airlines? Do you enjoy it?” I guess this wasn’t a good strategy because she replied with, “What do you do?”

“I’m a doctor.” This seemed to suddenly get her interest. “Oh, what kind? Look at this! (as she pointed to her face) I have this horrible acne! Do you know anything about how to get rid of acne?!” Suddenly our interaction alchemized into a doctor-patient relationship. The strange bed-fellows that we were, we continued to walk together through the Mumbai airport, passing by armed security guards…as I proceeded to give my new happy and smiling comrade advice on how to treat acne. When we reached my gate, we both expressed our genuine appreciation to one another and then said a wonderfully ironically warm and smiley good-bye. I boarded the plane and couldn’t help but shake my head in humorous disbelief of the situation I had just found myself in, all due to my tenacious spirit.

So what is the true meaning and purpose of this story? As I see it, this was clearly a demonstration of karma in immediate action; of the Universe making its laws of cause and effect perfectly lucid to me. I had taken my mouth guard out of its protective, plastic container in order to defiantly keep a few drops of my lotion, which clearly was not the mature decision I should have made. Had I not done this, I would never have casually put my mouth guard in a plastic bag in the seat pocket in front of me. I was being asked to let go of my lotion and I didn’t listen….and immediately paid the price.

“Jody, let go, let go, let go!”