Volume 8

Civil Wars in Paradise

Don't feel bad if you don't know what (a tropical teardrop-shaped island) or where (just below India) Sri Lanka is. We knew little more than that until we started hearing rave reviews from people who had visited the country. It was only after we arrived that we recognized the irony of celebrating our 10th anniversary in a country struggling through a civil war. While all might appear perfect in this palm-treed paradise, a perceptive observer (or anyone familiar with the history) can see that there is more to the picture. Like many of history's great conflicts, this one began years ago when one segment felt their needs were being ignored by the current system. When continued cries for change went unanswered, the frustration turned to open rebellion. But before I go any further into our marriage, lets talk about Sri Lanka.

Outside of the cities, the military presence was reduced to sporadic roadblocks that had little if any effect on our travels. I might even go so far as to argue that we were negligently ignored. At one checkpoint, the local bus we were on was stopped just prior to crossing a large dam (ostensibly to prevent bombing). All of the natives were closely surveyed and required to show ID. Carrie and I (the only foreigners) were ignored despite the fact that our packs were the only parcels large enough to carry significant explosives or weapons. Fret not, though we concluded that "tourist" would be an excellent cover for mercenaries, we are not considering augmenting our travel budget in this manner.

Even more than the military, we noticed creature comforts that we did not even recognize we had been missing. One friend had observed that in Nepal and India, the teapots were often unable to serve their sole purpose in life, to pour tea without dripping or spilling. In Sri Lanka, the pots not only served their purpose, but they were seldom chipped or cracked and often matched the cups. Perhaps it had something to do with our softening of budgetary constraints during our anniversary "vacation" (from traveling), but we often felt pampered by such relatively simple niceties.

Carrie and I have never been what I consider "beach people". Even in our years at Santa Barbara, we rarely just lounged by the seaside. None the less, we figured that a week at the beach would be a nice respite from the rigors of traveling. Our first stop out of Columbo was a nameless beachfront home near Unawatuna that we call Padma's (after the friendly host, a widowed mother of 3 "twenty-something" children). We couldn't find anything wrong with Padma's (perhaps the scenic palm-treed lawn posed too great a barrier between our room and the sea or maybe the excessive quantities of wonderful food were too big), but moved after only a couple of nights. With blatant disregard for our budget, we decided to celebrate our anniversary in a secluded beach cabana ($15/night). In our five days there, we seldom wandered far from our private deck. Our meals were brought to us there (including lobster and champagne on the big night). Between meals, we spent our time talking, writing, meditating, reading and watching the sea turtles surfing the waves just a few feet below. It was during this period that we began to question our previous prejudices against "beach people".

We had been looking for a place we could just BE for a while and the beaches of Sri Lanka didn't seem a terrible alternative. So, when we were forced to vacate our beloved cabana (to others with prior reservations), we began our quest for beach nirvana (a peaceful place on the water that was at least close to our budget). Our odyssey from one beautiful beach to another was not without hardships. Ants (the likely victors for eventual control of Sri Lanka because they are better organized and more diligent than either the Tamils or the Sinhalese) were nesting in the bed of one room and laid eggs in my toothbrush holder at another. In Marissa, an over-inspired monk had set an amplifier on a hilltop so the nearby beach (despite their complaints) could hear his live chanting (or alternatively a tape of him chanting) twenty-four hours a day. These challenges combined with more mundane difficulties such as sand flies, sunburn and mediocre food left us doubting whether our goal was achievable. But, finally, we found everything we were looking for at a nameless beachfront home near Unawatuna that we call Padma's.

The family made us feel like part of the home. We were still pampered as guests (breakfast in the gazebo where we could watch the fishermen hunt for octopus in the morning tide pools) but we were also included in numerous activities. We learned about cricket (which seems to be extremely popular in parts of the world where they drive on the wrong side of the road) as we watched a televised match between Sri Lanka (the defending world champions) and Pakistan. A few days later, I found myself in a pick-up game with the guys in our back yard. I held my own, but kept dropping the bat (which I was supposed to carry with me) before I ran.

We found ourselves captivated the island's natural beauty and life energy. We watched magnificent birds whose existence I might have doubted if I had seen them in a book. More likely, I would have noted their habitat was Sri Lanka and thought to myself, "like I am ever going to be there." What we believe was a monitor lizard crossed the yard one morning. It looked like a brontosaurus that had been miniaturized so it wouldn't scare the tourists. People and wildlife seem to co-exist reasonable well, each going about their own business of survival. Life here is not easy (except arguably ours), but there is not the feeling of a constant struggle. We watched two recently hatched (from a rudimentary but effective hatchery) baby sea turtles released onto the beach. It was inspiring to see them instinctively flipper-walk toward the water. Our hearts went out to them when the first wave they encountered left them further from their goal than they started, but eventually they caught an out-bound surge and began their life at sea.

Mostly, we used our beach time to explore ourselves both as individuals and as partners. We have identified this exploration as the main objective of our travels and the best hope of working through our relationship's difficulties. Ours has truly been a civil war. We have seldom fought, and for the most part have treated each other with compassion and respect. Still, in recent years, many people (including ourselves) had reason to doubt that our marriage would reach the decade milestone. Everyone has problems, so I won't burden you with ours. I will however share some insights from our ongoing peace negotiations whose success (so far) deserves to be celebrated. Yes, this means I am venturing back into my "deep thoughts" mode, but I promise no poems.

Troubles forced our relationship into the present. It was not so much an understanding of the benefits of focusing on the here and now, as a decision by default. Our years of history surely accounted for something, but we recognized that the lives we had enjoyed together in the past were not compatible with our selves of the present. When we looked forward, we could not see a future together that appeared both plausible and appealing. I often cited the theory that love is a continual choice, choosing your partner over each and every alternative and temptation as they arise. This day to day existence got us through the toughest times, but after a few years, it proved as unsatisfactory as the cricket match I had watched on TV (a 5 day match that ended in a draw when they ran out of time).

In prouder moments, I take credit for being patient and not giving up on our life together. Alternatively, the realist in me recognizes that when things were at their worst, I lacked the self-confidence and conviction to make a decision on the magnitude of breaking up. The truth is probably somewhere in between. I think it is more than a coincidence that the return of my self-confidence and conviction were accompanied by a new perspective from which I can now see many viable paths for our future together. In other words, now that I feel strong enough to face the world alone, I don't feel I want to or have to (note the use of the word conviction, not decisiveness). Carrie and I still have many things to work out and we accept the possibility that our paths might diverge in the uncertainty of the future. The difference is that now as we continue to choose each other over life's alternatives and temptations, the choices feels like bricks in a solid foundation rather than plastic over a shabby lean-to. Certainly, part of this feeling is attributable to spending essentially all day every day together for the last 6 months. But more important than the time together has been the time and space we have given each other to grow. We have been pleasantly surprised to find ourselves growing together, not apart.