Becoming Leo – How to be present and mindful

I’ve been ruminating on some blog topics in my free time, when I’m not busy with the schedule I have created for myself consisting of reading, studying Khmer, hanging with my family, biking and ongui/dao (sitting/wandering) langing around town. Sitting and reading with my sister has become a recent passion of mine in a case of the blind leading the blind whereas my mom has to correct both of us as we pretend to read in Khmer. In a discussion with my (American/biological) dad today, all paths in our discussion led back to Leo, my favorite giant dog in Berkeley. Most conversations in my family lead back to dogs or poop relating to dogs, which isn’t too far off from most of my discussions in Cambodia, but this one was a bit different. I remarked on how I went on a run this morning, but as I do everytime I leave my house and enter the streets, market, etc. I have to brace myself for the stares. The stares that come from mostly men, as they are the predominant players on the streets, in the restaurants, sitting around, usually make me frustrated and angry. I am no stranger to this attention from my travels and time studying abroad in Morocco, but it is always a new challenge in any country. When explaining this reality to my dad, he said, “That’s just like being Leo, everywhere he goes…stares”. If you haven’t met my dog, here he is:

Not your typical Khmer dog

I have grown up with Scottish deerhounds my whole life, so I see this face as familiar, while others may have other opinions due to their lack of knowledge. So their reaction is thus to stare which is sometimes accompanied by comments. Similarly, a female barang (foreigner) running down the streets of my town is enough to cause the same reaction. I am quick to take this attention personally and become protective of myself and almost disgusted by this display. However, I do understand that the way I interpret this behavior is quite different than the cause for it; which is to say that they are staring out of fascination and difference.

The best part about Leo, maybe because he’s a dog but also because of his amazing resilience, is that he could care less about all the stares, and sometimes bounces more as he walks along without regard for those beyond himself. My dad described this as Leo being the poster-being of how to be present and mindful. I try to take the same attitude to the streets of Cambodia as I realize that my differences cause stares, which is not necessarily such a bad thing. It is the reality of showing up as an American volunteer in a town not comprised of such beings. This is the beginning of cultural exchange. It’s what you do with that fascination, curiosity and attention to difference that matters.