When the sarong of perfection falls off
Some of you may have read my latest book, Picking Flowers on Dusty Roads, already. But if you haven’t, I thought I may give you a taste, just to tempt your appetite for more. Here are a few paragraphs from page 103:
“Obviously, we are from different worlds: the Western world with all its trinkets, and the jungle world with all its jungle gadgets. It’s only natural that we behave like clumsy amateurs in a world that is not our own. I can keep wishing that they could see me in my element, with my hair a different style than the mop-look I have been forced to adopt during these weeks. But I can also decide to give up my pride and let go.
I have no problem being totally honest and sincere while I’m just uttering my silent prayers to the only One whom I believe knows me just the way I am while here. Often it goes like this: ‘Help me, help me, help me.’ ‘Please, please.’ ‘Say something, will you?’ My prayers aren’t any more eloquent or impressive than the clumsy climbing moves I’ve had to make as I crawled up steep hills to get here. But they’re all I have. I can’t make them any better. If I did, I’d be a liar. Maybe I have come here to learn not to be too impressed by myself, but instead to see that I am weak and dependent. In the convenience of my own world, I often don’t see this, because I can do so much, and the rest I can fake. It’s a humbling feeling, but also freeing. In a way it is like the sarong has fallen off and here I am in my imperfection. You can take it or leave it, but this really is who I am.”