on finding balance

salty, sour, spicy, and sweet

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At nearly every restaurant here, on the table you won’t find salt and pepper. Instead, you’ll find four condiments: crushed chilis, vinegar, fish sauce, and sugar. Basically: spicy, sour, salty, and sweet.

I have done a bit of research about Thailand’s view of food since moving to Bangkok two months ago ( by “research” I mean… eat at a bunch of restaurants, and engage in some light googling).

I have found while Americans approach a healthy diet in a scientific, efficient, research-based way (like…. protein powder), the Thais have more of a holistic approach. To them, a nutritious, satisfying meal is all about one thing: balance.

thai cuisine :)

This balance found in their meals stretches into a way of life that is deeply embedded into their architecture, language, and culture. The balance here is one of the reasons I have come to really love living in Thailand.

Here’s an example: Thailand has the most spectacular malls you will ever see in your life. There are over-the-top, glittering art installations dangling from the ceilings, indoor waterfalls, rotating pop-up displays… it’s hard to describe how BIG and BEAUTIFUL everything is just for the sake of being BIG and BEAUTIFUL. And then… just right next door, you’ll see dirty alleyways with hungry dogs and humble street food vendors. At first the dichotomy is startling — how can something so grand exist next to something so meager? But it’s what makes Thailand feel safe to me, honestly. There isn’t a “bad” part of town or “rich” part of town, per se. It all just exists and functions together.

It’s funny that just a few weeks ago, I was writing about wanting to find community outside of the Church. And then the week after I wrote that, Jonny and I decided to go to Church. Haha…

In a lot of ways, I think a church community is good for us. Why LDS, you may wonder? We have been to other denominations, and…. ugh. It’s just so hard. I like that, with attending an LDS ward, I know the doctrine, policies, and skeletons inside and out — no surprises there for me anymore. I feel in control of my beliefs and behavior now that I don’t subscribe to 90% of the LDS-specific doctrine and practices. I know how to navigate an LDS ward and community — who to avoid, and how to scout out who might feel “safe”. I like the rhythm of church attendance in my life; I like the reminders of service and kindness. I like seeing the same people week after week, especially if they’re people I may not associate with otherwise. I like taking the sacrament. I like LDS people — they’re kind, ambitious, and hopeful. So, we went!

When I was a full-fledged member of the Church, I completely bought into the belief system, the dogma, and the phobias of the LDS faith. I believed that all the inconsistencies of Joseph Smith’s life and records could be fixed by the bandage of more faith. I felt grateful that I happened to be the luckiest person in the world and was born into the ONLY true church on the face of the earth. I was afraid that God would not protect me from car crashes or fires if I didn’t wear garments. I used to shake at the thought of ever leaving.

My missionary service was full of striving to be perfectly obedient to the commandments of God and to my mission president. I would study the missionary rule book like scripture, highlighting lines that felt important with a yellow highlighter. “Obedience brings blessings,” a common missionary-adage goes, “but exact obedience brings miracles.”

I would walk the streets of New York with a crushing realization that I was called to share the gospel with all of these people zipping around me. I would stare at the crowds of people, bewildered of the impossibility of it all, wondering how it could ever be done. I truly, truly believed that my entire purpose on earth was to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ as restored by Joseph Smith, the first Mormon prophet. It was my unique message to the world — the only way that families could be together forever.

After my missionary service ended, that zeal did not go away. I took several church institute classes at once, learning all I could. I met with my fellow church members several days a week for various activities and worship services. I went to the temple every week. I noticed that in every “deep” or vulnerable conversation I had with friends or family, it would often turn into someone bearing their testimony — sharing what they “knew to be true” about trials and the gospel and God. It was how I was able to connect with people. The majority of my conversation, thoughts, daily practices, and the way I spent my time was connected to the Church.

I remember explaining to a non-member friend in China that it was hard to be an “in between” member of the Church — you’re either in or you’re out. It seemed completely normal to me at the time to be saying this, but I can still see their furrowed brow in concern.

As I approach a spiritual life post-faith deconstruction, something I keep coming back to is balance. In the past, my spiritual life had a just one overwhelming flavor. But like the Thais do so well, I want the crushed chilis, vinegar, fish sauce, and sugar. I want to mix it into my meal in a way that brings all of the flavors to life.

I am curious lately about what it could look like to add some sort of regular church attendance back into my spiritual life, but not dominate it. Is it possible with the LDS structure to treat it more like a club than a lifeline? Could I be intentional with what I want out of it, and what I do not want out of it? Maybe not. But I am curious about that.

I think what makes me feel more curious about it is that I see God and Church as completely separate things. I don’t see “the Church” as God at all (as I once did.) I am proud of how far I have come! I feel a stability in my relationship with God that I always wanted when I was an active member. I feel God’s love and feel worthy of God’s love. I see God in strangers, in animals, in art. I learn about Jesus often on my own, from scholars and scripture alike. I know my talents and strengths and understand how I can use them in society — like organizing craft nights, volunteering in youth organizations, writing a children’s book, and painting murals. I don’t need the Church to be my social life, my creative outlet, my rulebook, my purpose for living. I want dedicated time to sing songs with people I sort of know, break bread, and think about Jesus. OF COURSE, there is so much more that comes with that. Like, what happens if they start singing Praise to the Man?!!?! Or only mention Jesus in passing once during a talk?!?

At this point, I have more questions than answers about what a balanced life looks like. But when I think about what I want for my life, I see that I want to be an adult with hobbies, projects, and a social life, with friends. I want to take classes and experiment with fashion. I want to have conversations with strangers, and give back to my community. I want my spiritual life to be something that enhances all other aspects of my life, and doesn’t take away from them. I want the faith tradition of my foremothers to be part of my adult life, too, I think. I’m just trying to figure out how.

Here’s to the salty and sweet,