“Oz never did give nothing to the Tin Man, that (he didn’t) didn’t already have.” ~ America
After a week trekking on Bali, I’ve decided to spend a few final days on this magical island at a small resort just relaxing, mostly by the pool. It’s beautiful here; for example, the table next to me is littered with pretty pastel flowers, the same ones that adorn my room each morning after housekeeping tidies up. But wait, there’s more.
I begin my days by feasting on fresh banana, mango and pineapple all made tart by a generous squeeze of fresh lime. Coffee is served piping hot from a lady whose kind smile and generous demeanour add a special spark to the morning.
Traditional Balinese gratitude offerings are everywhere, consisting of flowers, food, and burning incense that emit wispy strands of smoke that rise lazily towards a cloudless sky. The sound of water burbling into the turquoise pool is ever-present, interrupted on occasion by a soft gong sound announcing the arrival of new guests.
Everywhere I look is a testament to the beauty, serenity and flow of nature, and the culture as a whole. Bali truly is paradise. Life here couldn’t be anymore perfect… Or could it?
Actually, it could; but not because of anything Bali is or isn’t, or that the wonderful locals could be doing differently. No, the truth is that my dissatisfaction has been brought on by wholly by myself. How so, you may wonder?
Well, it’s not due to the fierce sunburn I got from applying sunscreen that (oops!) wasn’t waterproof, nor the head cold that’s bunged up my brain (in 30 degrees Celsius–go figure) that has me hacking like a grizzled two-pack-a-day smoker.
It’s also not because I’m here without my sweetheart; spotty WhatsApp calls at 3am are no substitute for having my girl by my side, no matter where in the world I may be. And while I miss her terribly, this witless oversight is also not what has me so agitated.
No, the acrid distaste I have comes from my foolishly reading a work email two days ago that outlined an ongoing workplace issue (the kind I came to Bali to escape) that now dominates my thoughts. I can’t fathom leaving this perfect paradise in a few days to return to the managerial ineptness and blatant favouritism that is called “my job”.
Then it hit me: Despite being 13,000 km away from the chaos, I’ve allowed one single, solitary work email overshadow all the beauty and joy Bali has to offer… How messed up is that? Feeling the obvious tension and anger brought on by this email caused me to wonder why I let the actions of other people affect me, and my life, so profoundly?
And just as if Buddha himself sent it, the answer simply, and gently, appeared.
The real problem isn’t that the same problems keep happening, or that the same selfish people continue to act, well, selfishly. It’s also not the chronically toxic workplace, the lazy colleagues, or the gaggle of department heads that do little more than hide behind weighty-sounding job titles. While all these issues are real, they aren’t the real problem.
If I’m honest, I’ll admit that the real problem is me. I mean, despite knowing all these things, I’ve chosen to stay in this culture for a long time, so now the question becomes why? What’s stopping me from leaving? What unseen force is keeping me stuck in a place I don’t want to be?
Asking these questions whilst in the beauty and Zen of Bali forced me to acknowledge a truth I may not have been ready to accept before: That an entrenched fear of not having a steady paycheque has been greater than enduring the habitual bad behaviours commonplace at my workplace. In other words, I thought leaving would hurt more than staying. There – I said it.
But poolside in Bali that day, two enlightened ideas broke this spell for me. The first is that the poor management and lack of leadership in the business are historical and will never change. The only way to be free of them for good is to tender my resignation.
Secondly, despite my fear that by quitting I’d instantly become Oliver-Twist-poor, the truth is that I’m not broke; not by a long shot. In fact, I could easily go a year without working and barely put a dent in my savings… so what’s stopping me from quitting?
As it turned out, what I feared most (as the saying goes) was simply fear itself. And with this realization, I began planning my exit strategy right then and there, while lounging comfortably by the pool.
One month after returning home I tendered my resignation, and instantly felt lighter and in control of my life again. As I worked out my final few weeks, the daily (and predictable) chaos, problems and issues didn’t faze me one iota, proving it to be the right decision. Oh, and the fifty-plus cards, gifts and notes from my customers wishing me good luck and God speed cemented that I’d made an impact.
It’s important to acknowledge the good things that have come from this job, most notably the many wonderful people I’ve met, several of who have become dear friends. Also, understanding what I’m prepared to tolerate (or not tolerate) has helped me to grow as an individual.
But above all, my biggest poolside enlightenment was the understanding that we human beings already possess the wisdom, knowledge and courage needed for the change we want or need. The key is to look past our fears and imagine our life beyond them. As it turns out, this tin man always had a heart; he just needed to unearth it himself.
It took the calm, peace and serenity of Bali to understand and act upon this idea, once and for all. For this realization, I’m truly thankful and grateful.
Namaste.
