My slightly hermitesque behaviour began approximately three months ago. Franzi Kaiser the introvert? Notice the cows jumping over the moon to your left. Oh, and the pigs flying on your right.
Okay, so the farm animals aren’t defying gravity, but there has definitely been something rather unusual about my behaviour since my arrival in Korea. I’ve been guarded, quiet, and perhaps even a bit mysterious. Identifying myself as a rather gregarious creature, I felt disoriented in my newfound silence. And yet I didn’t want to break the stillness... it was as if I had forgotten the very reason why I had become an expressive individual to begin with. Thankfully, a week of introspection has led me to the following conclusion: My silence is not incorrigible- I just needed to remember the substance that made me want to speak in the first place.
Forgive me if my philosophizing fails to compete with the comical geniuses in my classroom.
I believe there has always been a part of my soul searching for the reflective and the genuine. I certainly indulged myself in a certain brand of literature: diving into the woeful truths of the Sierra Leonean soldier boy, the tailor on the dusty streets of Mumbai, the unbearable lightness of being. I’d feel my heart tighten at the wisdom of a gorilla or the relationship between an aged German musician and his child prodigy. Novels seemed to continually help me in my attempts to jump over the barrier of The Mundane which can easily erect itself in one’s mind... the barrier that prevents you from focusing on change and truth and deludes you into thinking that your purchasing power is more significant. You know the barrier I’m referring to. How many times have teachers attempted to recruit talented, intelligent individuals, only to be blown off? Unfortunately, 30-hour famines and buying Reach Lesotho bracelets don’t make it onto many people’s priority list. Don’t think you’ve never been that talented, intelligent individual.
Anyway, as I look back on my own youth, something now strikes me as slightly tragic: There I sat... at the top, academically, athletically, and socially, and yet I often shrouded my belief in social justice and my mind’s philosophical meanderings. Sure, I would volunteer, help organize events, and allow my teachers to take a gander at my opinions (a paper on School of the Americas will do that), but everything was done too quietly. I dissuaded myself from taking on the most difficult task: letting people know it was cool to care.
Thankfully, my ability to vocalize my true interests and beliefs improved with age. I would argue that a two-year Liberal Arts program can ignite the soul of any lost traveller, but I can only speak for myself. Ignite is an understatement in my case. From Boethius to the Zapatista movement, I was able to awaken that slumbering desire within me. The desire to seek understanding and become a more wholesome person from it. And I believe it began to radiate from me. By the time I started university, my daily encounters with complete strangers became somewhat routine. I seemed to draw people to me, and the connection often felt raw, even spiritual. It was as if I had this flashing neon sign that beckoned people towards me, that invited them to share a part of themselves so that I could give them a piece of what I had gathered through my experiences. It was always immediately after such an encounter that I would remember to appreciate movement, breath, and sight. It was as if my senses became purified just from connecting with others.
And yet here I’ve been... my recluse behaviour making me wonder if I’d lost the energy that drove me back home. But, like a sleeping cat, the energy is slowly awakening again inside me. Despite the enormous language barrier and tiresome office cliques, I have regained a sense of what I have always wanted to offer the people I meet: understanding and a willingness to share knowledge. So what if I can’t speak Hangul? The retired university professor in his sky blue three-piece suit is still delighted to have even the simplest of conversations. So what if I hate office politics and have sworn off making friends with anyone? The teacher who comes over to my desk and says: “Franzi, I want to be friends with you!” wins my heart. So what if I’m in Korea? My dear friend Paul dragged himself here for a weekend dedicated to eating Indian food, sweating in a jinjibang, and contemplating life.
Despite geographical relocation, my quest to make the world a better place through daily interactions and connections has not ceased. No, I may have clammed up for a while, getting my bearings and whatnot, but my belief in growth through sharing is still very much intact. I henceforth relinquish my hermithood.
