Let's Talk Intimacy

Growing in the raised beds outside our apartment

It's been some time since I've talked about Love--that singular factor which caused me to move to this Asian nation on the other side of the world. Even Atlas Obscura put our story in the "Remote Locations" category--read a synopsis of our story which they published online. It's the third entry under Remote Locations.

As a year of life in Mongolia fades into the rearview mirror, I--no, WE--are yet amazed by it. Living one's own fairy tale is a surreal experience. Everyday life's annoyances and challenges can't seem to squelch the bliss. It doesn't matter that I can't buy spaghetti squash, that there is not a good sub shop in town (or that I can't buy familiar looking or tasting lunchmeat anywhere), that my hot water goes out for days or weeks at a time, or that every appliance and fixture in my kitchen is miniature-sized.  I wouldn't trade the Love I've found/made for ALL the things I miss about life in the U.S. 

Love has many shades and hues. I *thought* I knew what Love was before I met and knew Zorig. As time passes, I realize that while I may have had one understanding of Love, I did not know ALL that it could be. The best analogy I can give is that my previous relationships were perhaps a 200 level undergraduate course in Love; this relationship immediately took me to a 500+ graduate intensive course. From the beginning it has forced me to push past fears and insecurities--to be IN relationship in a whole new and ever-expanding way.

To that end, today I want to talk about intimacy. If you ask our modern technological oracle Google, "what is intimacy?" Google will reply with: Intimacy is the experience of emotional closeness. It occurs when two people are able to be emotionally open with one another, and reveal their true feelings, thoughts, fears and desires. This can only occur when both people are able to genuinely trust one another, and feel able to take the risk of being vulnerable. 

The definition is easy to read and comprehend, but NOT so easy to live or realize. Not in my experience anyway. To allow another person to see ALL aspects of one's self is no small or easy task. And this comes from a woman who is known by family, friends, and colleagues as someone who easily, and perhaps far too often, speaks her mind. 

From an early age we, as human beings, experience rejection. We are disappointed and hurt by family members and by friends. We then put up walls to protect ourselves from being hurt. While it's possible we may avoid some hurt, these walls also prohibit us from ultimate connection with another human being. The strategies we employ as defense mechanisms, to protect our hearts and souls, end up being the very things that repel what we most want in this world--to know and be known by another. 

This article from Psychology Today explains that finding or creating intimacy all boils down to vulnerability. Or rather, our fear of being vulnerable keeps intimacy out of our reach. Here is a link to my favorite TED Talk (to date) which is Brene Brown talking about the Power of Vulnerability. If you haven't yet watched it, please make the time to do so. 

I was 40 years old before I knew intimacy. And that's because Zorig, with patience and care, led me into its rich forest. He was honest and forthright in all things--right from the start.  As the aforementioned article says, we are attracted to individuals that are themselves, "Because we feel an intrinsic comfort in the presence of authenticity. Moreover, someone who is real and vulnerable gives us the space and permission to be the same." 

Zorig was fully and ONLY himself, and that way-of-being inspired me to follow suit. He never faltered. I had hiccups and speed-bumps along the path. I was afraid and worried. I had doubts and concerns. But then I would remember the quote which I'd adopted as a personal mantra--"Behind every fear is a person you want to be." And I would do what was necessary to push past the fear, the uncertainty. I was determined to see whom I could become on the other side. Zorig has always been there waiting--ready to receive and accept me. You see, in those infamous words of Mark Darcy from Bridget Jones' Diary, Zorig was ultimately saying "I like you very much. Just as you are" in each and every moment. 

Our courtship, which ironically occurred in the virtual world where it can be easy to camouflage oneself, was about truth. No masks. No pretending or game playing. I'll never be able to fully understand or explain how two people made the same choice to bare their hearts and souls completely. We shared the light and the dark. The dreams, hurts, and disappointments. Stories from our pasts, wishes for our futures. We shared so much, so that when we met again in the flesh (four and a half months after our initial six day fishing trip), it was not strange or weird or awkward. While I was nervous to see him after that time apart, and the growth of our friendship into a full blown love relationship, my nerves dissolved the moment we hugged. He was home. He saw me just as I was and loved and accepted me. I reciprocated in kind.

He is my closest friend and confidante. We tell each other everything and we never tire of talking about our love and connection. I'm amazed at how quickly hours, filled with conversation, can pass us by. Before Zorig, I thought women who called their partners their best friend were lying. I had never felt that close or connected to a male counterpart. I think part of that comes from the reality that men and women communicate differently. And we are wired differently too. Recently my sister shared with me this video about how male and female brains are different. I first saw it a few years ago when studying how boys and girls learn differently. Mostly I think it's spot on. However, I have found a man that doesn't seem to have a Nothing Box. Zorig is always thinking about something. I'm not sure if his brain shuts down when he sleeps. :) 

From my favorite little book about Love....I read and reread it.

Something he's taught me that is of great importance is to NOT focus on the small things. Two people in a relationship should always keep their eye on the prize--on the Love and Respect they have for one another. If you keep that as your home-burning fire (in Mongolian the word is голомт and means hearth), so to speak, you can hardly go wrong. In my previous relationships the focus seemed to be on "being right" or winning. As you can imagine, when trying to be right or win (which is self-focused), it can be difficult to deepen a connection with or understanding of another. 

This article from Scientific American about long-term love says, "When we get to know someone well, we naturally learn about both their strengths and their weaknesses but it is really up to us whether we choose to focus one side or the other. By focusing on what we appreciate and admire in our partner and being grateful for the value and gifts that our partner brings into our lives, we cannot but think positively and may feel more intense love as a consequence." 

No human being is perfect, but we can perfectly fit with another. We are each unique puzzle pieces looking for that special someone that we can click and fit together with. Zorig knows AND appreciates the fact that men and women are different creatures. He doesn't try to make me behave like a man, nor do I try to make him act like a woman. We are open and fully vulnerable with one another and this allows our connection to deepen and our love to grow and expand. As is Mongolian belief, a husband and wife melt together. I'm happy to say that I feel that to be true. Though to clarify, we are each unique individuals that together create a one-of-a-kind couple. 

I dedicate this post to Zorig--for unknowingly coaching and leading me into this love of a lifetime. You are everything I didn't know I needed and wanted, and I'm thankful each and every day to be your friend, your lover, your wife. Let's keep going deeper...... Love you.

345 Days....more Assorted Observations

Walking home as sun sets @ 9 PM

It's been quite some time since I offered up a random assortment of observations (two posts about it last year--one in July, another in August) about life in a new land. I've been living in Mongolia for 345 days. We will celebrate my first year of life here with a trip to South Africa where we will join my father and cousin on a hunting safari. Dad and I's epic trip to Mongolia (2014) seems to be the gift that keeps on giving. But at the moment, I'm enjoying the warmer weather (it's into the 60s and 70s most days) and the long days (16+ hours of daylight) and looking forward to being DONE with my first school year in five more days. 




So in no particular order, here is my list of observations:

Windowsill in background is just below waist

• Buying sheets is frustrating! It doesn't seem that having a fitted sheet is standard in Asia. I can buy sheets at any number of department stores OR at the Korean houseware stores that are smattered across the city. Most "sets" seem to come with a flat sheet and a duvet cover. This will NEVER feel normal to me. I will have to add sheets to my next shipment from the States!
• The brooms and dustpans seemed strange and bizarre to me when I first arrived. Why did they make a half-sized broom? While people of Asian descent *tend* to be shorter, did they really need a small broom? As time passed and I used our broom and dustpan set, it became clear to me that these are BRILLIANT and the tall brooms we have in the U.S.--though good for sweeping off porches and walkways--are NOT built for indoor use. I remembered using my full-size broom to create a pile of dust and debris, then awkwardly trying to hold the bottom part of the broom to sweep the pile into the hand-held dustpan. Awkward and not effective. Now, if you have a partner or child on hand, one can hold the dustpan while you sweep, but this isn't always the case. I LOVE my half-height broom AND the waist-height dustpan that accompanies it. 
• There ARE snakes in Mongolia. I saw my first one, strangely enough, at the bus stop in Zaisan. I believe it was a Siberian pit viper based on input from friends and research online. I have NO idea where he came from--he was trapped in the middle of a concrete jungle.
  
  
  
• There does not seem to be a "walk to the right" rule here. When walking down the sidewalks in UB and approaching an oncoming fellow pedestrian, I never know what will happen. Will they go to my left? Or will they juke right? In the U.S. it always felt like there was an unspoken etiquette for sidewalk or trail walking. You walk to the right. This seemed to exist for two reasons: (1) no worry of collision with on-coming traffic, and (2) people on bikes or those traveling faster were able to pass on the left and still see oncoming fellow pedestrians. There is NO understood or expected or common way to walk in this country. Also, it's not uncommon for two or more people to walk abreast on the sidewalk taking up all of the space. I miss the courtesies and known general usage expectations from my home country.
• People are PUSHY when getting on the bus! And I'm not always sure why. In Zaisan, the buses are generally empty and there are more than enough seats for everyone that wants to ride. I've had an older woman (I'd guess upper 50s or early 60s) literally elbow her way in front of me. I wanted to elbow back--but refrained for two reasons. First, pushing back doesn't show her that her behavior is wrong, it only validates it. And secondly, I don't want to be the rude foreigner pushing around an older lady. Strange experience. 
  
• Most apartment complexes have an outdoor playground just outside their access doors. Some are brand new installations, others are a blend of old and new (like the one pictured). Now that the days are longer, I'm trying alternate routes around town. Cutting through any large city block usually uncovers a park and they are nearly all overrun with kids at play. In the one pictured here you can see the old metal slides in the foreground and the newer play are in the background. While I like to sleep with our bedroom window open for the fresh air, I sometimes have to close it because the children out playing at midnight (or after) are loud. A general observation (NOT true of all) is that Mongolians do not adhere to a daily routine or schedule with their kids. I heard numerous students talk about not going to bed until 12 or 1 am, or even later. And if it's not small children, then it's teens or 20-somethings that are chatting and laughing at 3 or 4 in the morning. No joke. It is the LAND of night owls, it seems. 

Alright then, that sums up a few random thoughts for now. I am off to clean house before some more furniture is delivered this afternoon. Bit by bit I make this apartment a little more like home. Today--it's another bookcase. With no closets (and VERY limited cabinet space in the kitchen) it's a challenge to find places to store and put everything. From kitchen appliances (small ones like a blender) to books and art supplies. My winter clothes are stored in some of the original rubbermaid containers that I used to ship my life here a year ago. They are stacked in the bedroom and out of view of visitors. Useful, yes, but certainly not part of the architecture and no crawl space to stash them in. While I agree that *space* in America can contribute to our consumerism, here I find that there are useful everyday or every week things that would make my life better--but no space to store or place them. So I make what adjustments I can.

Upstream vs. Downstream

Recently I've become aware of a distinct cultural difference between Americans and Mongolians. Perhaps it's true of the larger groups--Westerners and Easterners--but I wouldn't presume to know. My knowledge of the East is limited to my experiences of the last 11 months, three weeks in Japan in 1998, and what I've read or seen on TV (which isn't much). While some Americans grow up with or discover a fascination for Asian food, or Anime, or tea ceremonies (something unique from the East), that was not the case with me. Throughout my life, I've encountered/interacted with very few people of Asian descent. Not intentionally, of course, just as a result of where I lived and the people in my spheres of knowing. 

That said, now I live in Mongolia and I'm learning much about this Asian culture. I've talked a few times here on my blog about differences in how we view things. For example, I discussed the different perceptions around forgiveness and how Zorig and I have opposite views about preparations for worst case scenarios in life. Or rather, planning for the unexpected or unfathomable. This new topic is a cousin of that. It's about WHO a generation works to provide for and what happens to their wealth/belongings when they pass. 

In America (generally speaking, of course), a generation works to provide for and rise up the generation ahead of them. Parents work to provide a good education, often trying to pay for their offspring's college years (This is not something I fully agree with, but that's another post), and to have money to send their fledglings out into the world. While some youth embark on this journey at 18, some do it later, after graduating college at 21 or 22, or perhaps a little later than that. Insurance companies allow children to stay on their parent's health insurance plans into the mid-20s, if the child is in school and/or living at home. 

But then, one is generally expected to make their own way in life. They go where their advanced education or career takes them. While they should and do appreciate what their parents did to get them to this step into full adulthood, from a certain point they make their own money and are then responsible to pay their own bills. Generally they do NOT provide money to their parents, nor do they participate in the regular care of their parents or grandparents. Depending on proximity, they may visit from time to time. But the sense of obligation felt from children to their older generations is less, I think. Each family is unique of course and I speak only of my experiences and those of my friends over the years. 

Parents feel pride when they can talk about their independent grown children as they pursue marriage, careers, further certifications or degrees, all INDEPENDENT from their parents. The cord is cut and it's up to the individual to make it. Parents do not expect their children to care for them or assist them in day-to-day endeavors. In my family, we are ALL together only once every 5 years for Christmas in Michigan (which began in 2001). There are six of us (two divorced parents and four siblings) and we reside in six different states, or I should say, five states in the US (from east coast to west coast) and one country abroad. I work for my life with my husband and stepson. I do not send money home or provide for my parents. I DO have an authentic relationship and connect with my parents multiple times each week. We email, facebook chat, iMessage, and FaceTime or Skype. Strangely, I connect with my mom and dad MORE despite the fact that I am 6K miles away and an ocean apart. 

In addition to my parents providing for the beginning of our lives, they also worked to save money for their retirement and old age years. Some have greater success at this than others and there are unexpected events that can affect the amount saved for this part of life (not to mention the ups and downs of the investment market). When elderly Americans become unable to care for themselves, they do one of a number of things. They may live with family. They may move to a retirement community that provides varying levels of support. In their end days, they may live with family or, more commonly, live in a nursing home or hospice care center. Family members visit. Depending on the family and geography of where people live, this can be often or rare. 

So, my summary of American culture is that we send our money, wealth, belongings DOWNSTREAM to our progeny or the offspring of our fellow family members--but almost always to the younger generation. This became markedly apparent to me in a conversation with Mongolian friends. I was explaining that I had updated the beneficiary on my stateside retirement accounts to my new husband (from my three siblings). One friend reacted with a level of surprise and asked, "Why wouldn't you leave it to your parents?" I was equally shocked by this question--but also appreciated the opportunity to get inside the Mongolian mind on this topic. 

I explained that we leave things to spouses or children as they are expected to outlive us. In a natural world, parents die before their children. My friend said that for Mongolians, the wealth should go to the parents who had brought them into the world and provided for them in their childhood and youth. While I can't disagree with the reasoning behind her thinking, I could not see the value in leaving money to my mom and dad. Of course, if an emergency came up and they needed financial assistance, I would do what I could. But in the event of an untimely death, my worldly wealth and goods should fall to my husband and progeny (if they exist). This is logical to me. For my friend, leaving money to parents was logical.

I do not know the state of retirement planning for Mongolians. I suspect it is not as common or institutionalized as it is in the U.S. Mongolia has only been out from under Russian oversight since the early 90s. They are working to get their feet firmly planted as an Independent nation. While reports say that Mongolia has about a 10% unemployment rate, I would argue that is grossly under-reported. I know many people that struggle to find regular and consistent work. Therefore, I suspect it is difficult to plan for retirement or old age when NOW is what is facing you. 

That said, I have continued conversations with Mongolians around the topic. Younger generations are generally expected to stay AT home (living with parents) or CLOSE to home (if they begin a family of their own). There is a sense that you OWE money, care, and often interactions (arriving to share meals, assist with errands, pay bills, etc) with ones' parents and grandparents. I can't say that statement is wrong. But I do struggle with the perceived chains this can put on a young adult in this country. Rather than feeling free to go forth into the world (perhaps abroad to study or work), there is a sense of obligation or duty to stay close to home. I hear young Mongolians share about their internal conflict--they want to go and pursue, but are held in a place by a host of SHOULDs. IF one does go abroad to work, then it seems that many of them send support home--to their parents. This is an UPSTREAM channel of support. I wonder if there is not more stress on a young couple that might be trying to build a life for themselves and young child AND for their parents/grandparents. 

Even my own husband thinks it strange that I provided him with the information about my retirement accounts--in the event that an accident occurs and I am taken to soon. This harkens back to my previous post, but he flatly says he couldn't take my "money." I explained that if I am dead and gone, I would want him to be taken care of. The money needs to go SOMEWHERE. For him--it's wrong to talk about such strange events because he perceives it as inviting them to happen. So....we simply disagree.

I believe we should leave our wealth and belongings to those replacing us. But this does not mean I don't think we should respect or care for our elders. This is an endearing quality--IF it is authentic and not simply a product of obligation. Actions that result from obligation/duty may serve a need, but they do not serve the feeling between people nor do they create an authentic and real relationship or connection. 

Recently I read a book titled The Three Questions to my students. The book is based on an original short story by Leo Tolstoy. In it, the main character has three questions he wants answers to (obviously!): When is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do? 

Before reading the story I asked some students to answer each question for themselves--and to share aloud--saying that there was no wrong answer. For the second question--Who is the most important one?--I got a host of answers that included: myself, God, friends, the teacher, the president--but more than 70% of the answers were FAMILY MEMBERS. Some children answered with mom or dad, some with sister or brother, some just said "the family," but there was also one or two in every class that answered immediately with--my grandma/grandpa. I can't think of a single child in America that I've met or known that would list their grandparent as being at the top of this list (who is the most important one). I admire Mongolian culture for the fact that grandchildren KNOW their grandparents AND spend time with them. Perhaps it used to be that way in America--but we've all scattered to the wind and blood family is not as tight as I think it once was. Though I've been married twice before, I did not feel like family with my spouse in those previous unions. I did enjoy time spent with their parents, siblings, and other family members. But I often felt separate from. I didn't know how be integrated into one family--perhaps it was a product of the lack of intimacy and connection between me and my partner (and had nothing at all to do with the family members. 

But I AM learning how to be family with a man now. I see myself with him until the end. He is the closest person to me--in mind, heart, and soul. While this connection comes easily and naturally for us--it does require work and communication when trying to rectify two very diverse perspectives on a topic (such as the one discussed here). I have to accept that we may never agree on some things. We have to settle for comprehending (not always understanding) and accepting the differences that were built by our families, our history, our experiences, our nations and cultures. This is the nature of an international love affair and marriage. Holding space for something you can't understand or follow or believe--and standing strong in the love you create.