Moments of Inspiration
Reunion in Hanoi
It’s late morning in Hanoi, Vietnam and I found myself on the roof of the hostel that I stayed at the night before. I hadn’t had a mad night out drinking and woken up there, that’s another story. On this occasion I had just left my dorm bed with the intention of going down the spiral staircase for the free hostel breakfast.
After a freezing nights sleep due to the air con being on full blast, I welcomed the warm flush of humidity that greeted me as soon as I opened the dorm door.
I had stepped onto the staircase, looked upwards and found myself wanting to see what was upstairs. So I wondered up the staircase, in the opposite direction to the breakfast table, to see what was on the top floor.
What I found was a door… I therefore opened it to reveal the flat roof of the building. On this small section of roof, there was a few plastic chairs and a small, square table. Two guys were sat there musing over their morning cigarettes. It occurred to me this was a smoking area/ lounge area for backpackers at the hostel.
I took in my surroundings: the warmth of the air, with low flying grey clouds passing overhead sealing in the heat, the view of the city from here, which wasn’t much to look at because of the tightly packed buildings guarding the line of sight… and the two gentleman sat in front me.
One man looked to be late 20’s early 30’s, had dreads and tattooes, was quite large and stocky, and had big kind eyes; the other man looked to be late 50’s early 60’s, but it was too hard to tell because I could see he was a heavy smoker, his skin deeply etched in wrinkles, his voice a constant husky tone, and (as I was about to find out) he had lived a rough life on the road as a musician.
We make nameless introductions, and instead open up conversation about the Vietnamese culture.
The older rugged looking man is telling of how the Vietnamese language developed into what it is today; how the Vietnamese adapted the Chinese language to create their own by shortening the words into short, sharp sounds.
This recording is a voice memo on my phone from listening to the radio in a taxi in Hanoi 🙂
The English traveller continued with another great story about meeting an old Vietnamese veteran from the war in a pub one night in Hanoi and how he had told him the secret to beating the Americans.
He told of the Viet vet saying with pride that him and his fellow soldiers could wait patiently in a hole in the ground all day and all night for the American soldiers to unknowingly walk up to them so they could spring a successful ambush.
“You could smell them coming,” he said “the Americans stank! and we could wait and wait, like a cat waiting for a mouse”
After this brilliant little story from the older guy I shared one of my Short Stories from Vietnam (Short Story Coming Soon).
I then asked where he was from in England, as I could tell by his accent he was English. I seem to recall he was from somewhere in the midlands but he went on to say he hadn’t been there in a long time… as he’d been travelling for 20years!
The younger guy was French but spoke fluent English with a hint of French flare, and he liked playing guitar as well as being a bit of a rugby player, which made sense by the size of him.
I was really enjoying this unexpectedly intriguing interaction and conversation between the three of us. What I liked the most was the way in which both of them talked. They were very switched on and very intelligent individuals who knew a great many things but I noticed they were also extremely humble, and grounded, like they lived with the understanding that the more you think you know, the more it doesn’t really matter what you know.
So here I was sharing these moments with these two guys who I had just met, but at the same time, I felt like I had known them before. For me there was a feeling of familiarity and mutual respect between us, even though we appeared as very different people with quite different backgrounds.
I tell them that I had just started learning how to play the guitar and soon enough the older husky man goes and retrieves his guitar which he lets me have a jam on. As I’m only very beginner level, I have a go playing the chords and messing around plucking the strings, then finish my turn and hand it back to the old musician.
He takes the guitar and he talks to it saying “Ahhhh I love ya girl. “Do ya love me today baby?”
And he starts to play…
What happened next when I think back to it, brings me to tears.
As I’m sat there on the roof, above the noise and chaos coming from the streets below, over looking the other buildings and houses in the surrounding area, mostly yellowy grey with touches of green leafy plants, I’m watching this man in front of me, absolutely love his guitar and play it like it too was alive and they were connected.
It was like they had a relationship. An honesty and understanding of the beauty of being together. This is more that can be said for most other relationships I’ve seen in people.
And though it certainly wasn’t the most beautifully played music I’ve ever heard, there was SOMETHING ELSE to it that made it Extraordinary.
As I’m looking at him intently and listening to his own unique style of music, a certain clarity comes over me and I disappear…. There wasn’t Giles anymore.
There was just this perfect, open observation.
And the old man in front of me became the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
He wasn’t what most would call a handsome man but in that moment something happened which let me see behind the appearance. I saw the deep lines on his face, the furrowed brow, the gnarly dirty hands with which he strummed his guitar – his worn out jeans, his mottled blue eyes and behind them a sense of sorrow, loneliness and wisdom, and everything was as it should be.
There was absolutely no problem.
There was no judgement of him, there was no judgement. I could have thought about him, questioned his life choices, thought that he wasn’t actually very good at guitar and got disappointed, been against him smoking or found something else not to like about him and distance myself from him.
And that has happened so many times before, but this time, none of that happened and I saw him just as he was… pure life, pure beauty.
When I felt it was time to go our separate ways, I thanked them for that awesome morning spent together and finally we shook hands and exchanged names. The ruggedy old English traveller, his name was Martin and the French guy with the kind eyes was called Julian.
For those who don’t know: Martin is my Dad’s name and Julian is my Uncle’s name (my Dad’s brother)
I have a close relationship with my Dad and my Uncle and when Martin said his name I smiled, but then when Julian told me his name my jaw dropped and I laughed while telling them their names are my Dad and Uncle.
“No way!” I said “Wow, that’s so cool!”
And I wished them all the best before heading back inside the hostel and trotting down the staircase with a deep sense of love and satisfaction.
(On a side note, from this incredible experience, I realised I was being shown a connection to my family and a reminder of our connection and so I knew the time was coming soon when I was to return home…
But for anyone who has spent more than a few months away from home, and for me at the time it was another year and a half after I’d last come home for a few weeks over Christmas, this can be a very strange feeling, especially when you’re moving back in with your Mum and Dad!!
So once I knew I was going home, I prepared myself for it mentally and emotionally over the next couple of weeks, until I came to a peace with it.
A wise man once told me, if you really want to see all your issues, either get in a close relationship with someone, or go back home and live with your parents…
and I was about to do both!)
Living the Paradiso Life
From the start of February until the beginning of May 2018, I was living and working for accommodation in a hostel in Nelson, New Zealand. This hostel hosted some unforgettable memories for me and I met so many beautiful people there who I still keep in contact with today.
I would happily jump in front of a bus for them, and I know they would do the same for me. (a weird scenario if that were to happen so fingers crossed it doesn’t 😉
The name of this epic hostel was of course…
Paradiso!
One of these such beautiful friends who became one of the family was an Israeli guy called Ido.
Ido was a very interesting guy to be around. He told me a bit about his life story and how he had spent the past 2 years staying in a Kibbutz in Israel. After a heart breaking split from his girlfriend he searched for meaning and found it in the form of “The Power of Now” where he delved into it spending much of his time deeply contemplating Eckhart’s words.
He said it had a profound impact on his way of life and he was inspired to participate in several Vippassana meditation retreats. Working in the Kibbutz a simple 9-5 job, he continued to contemplate life and dedicated himself to living in a meditative way.
Over the weeks that I spent more time with him, what I didn’t realise was, I had been touched by his way of life.
Not only did he sometimes come out with words of wisdom that struck me and made me see things in a different light but he baked cookies for everyone… weekly! He invited many people to share his food including his favourite dishes shakshuka and maki sushi rolls:
He was just an all round genuinely caring and thoughtful guy. What also started to happen was: I’d been inspired to start meditating – sitting quietly on my bed in the mornings and practicing not following thinking.
I didn’t practice very often but when I did, I felt so much more alive afterwards.
And so it happened…
One day when a bunch of us were off work, me, Ido and a crew of 6 others from the hostel, drove down to an open grassy spot by a river and brought with us a bunch of instruments, various different sized fire sticks, a frisbee, juggling balls and a few beers.
A real hippie sort of vibe, and it was lovely:
All of us were feeling super chilled out and happy, playing around practicing spinning the fire sticks, throwing and catching the frisbee, listening to Ido or David play guitar. Jumping in the river, though it was freezing, the sun soon warmed us up again. Sharing some simple fresh fruit and veg salads that a girl called Ginny had prepared us for lunch.
So we just spent a few hours like this together and, to me, it felt really quite special. A kind, sensitive type of energy had developed between us, enjoying one another’s company and the moments shared.
It seemed like a living meditation.
When the sun had started to go down behind the trees, we packed up our stuff and returned to the hostel.
My friends decided to make some classic Israeli falafel pita’s for dinner, so some people started making that while I went to my room to get changed. I intended to go back out into the kitchen and help them make dinner, but I never made it…
Instead, I was drawn to sitting on my bed and bringing my attention to the centre of my body.
As I sat there quietly for a short while, I began to hyperventilate without willing to. My body just started breathing heavily as I sat staring at the bedroom wall in front of me.
This spontaneous hyper-ventilation had happened twice before in my life so I wasn’t so scared as to what was happening, though I didn’t really know what was happening.
Thoughts came up but I let them pass without attaching any meaning to them while tears streamed down my face. I also noticed the fairy lights that were hung up just in front of me flickered and one of them went out.
After maybe 20 seconds my breathing started to calm down again and returned to normal. I felt like I could see with fresh eyes, looking at the world as though through my centre rather than my head.
Then my friend Alessandra knocked on the bedroom door shouting my name in her funny accent unique to her:
GIIYYYYEEEEES!!!!
So I opened the door and looked at her.
She asked if I was OK and that dinner was almost ready, so I should join them.
I said that I can’t right now, but I was OK, I’ll eat it later, and went back inside my room.
I spent a while longer sat on the bed with this curious Space in myself.
Then some slight fear in the form of hesitation came up when I thought to go outside of the room to meet other people in this kind of state. As that fear came up and I was aware of it, it was let go of and I got up from the bed, exited my room and wondered down the corridor into the reception area.
It was here that I came across a French girl called Clem.
She had been at the hostel for a few weeks and I had got to know her personality:
One of the first times I’d spent with her she had correctly guessed the star sign of both me and my friend on the first try. From this I knew she was very intuitive and didn’t hold back on her gut feelings.
Now in the hostel reception she had come bowling up to me out from the kitchen, looked at me and smiled widely. I stared at her smiling back for a few moments without saying anything and she comes closer to me and looks into my eyes.
“Something’s happening with you”, she says looking curious… “What is it?”
“I don’t know” I said simply, still smiling and looking at her, feeling the pronounced Space in my middle and all around me.
She gave me a warm hug and then touched my forehead with her thumb, just above the centre of my eyebrows (she’d never done this to me before, nor had I seen her do this with anyone else.)
Another guy was stood next to me and she turns into a conversation with him while I turn around and find Alessandra coming towards me. I guess she’d seen Clem hug me so she also wanted a hug and she hugged me tightly.
I looked at her, saw her as she was and said “You’re going to be a great mother one day”
These were words that came out spontaneously, there was no resistance to hold them back. I could feel them come from Space within me rather than my head, and I knew them to be the truth. I would never normally have said such a thing in a moment like that, but it seemed I wasn’t acting like Giles anymore.
I was open Space, just wondering around, having a human experience.
As I started to walk into the lounge I noticed Ido come out from the kitchen and we looked at each other.
He comes over and says:
“Your eyes are all shiny.”…and then “Are you coming to the room?”
“Yeah ok” I said, and we walked into our shared hostel room.
I couldn’t really speak much to him to explain what was happening with me but he was understanding and offered to bring me some food. He brought me the falafel pita and it was fucking awesome. Afterwards I went out of the room again and met my other Israeli friend Alon.
I began feeling emotional again and so went into the lounge with no one else there but me, followed by Alon. He see’s me getting emotional and breathing a bit heavier and asks me if I’m OK.
“Yeah… I… I just… can’t talk at the moment…” I manage to say between breaths and tears, my eyes staring ahead.
He very lovingly stays with me, just sitting there, somehow very understanding of whatever I’m going through. Breathing becoming steadier, I could feel tension within me had been released and I sat there relaxed in my body.
For the next couple of days, the pronounced Space in me was there in whatever I was doing. Following that, gradually, the Space returned to the background.
