Eat, Pray, Learn

I took a flight out of South Korea headed for Bali. I had money, time, thoughts of maybe scuba diving and a craving for margaritas. Oh, and I wanted to visit this famous palm reader and have him tell me that I shouldn't worry about my future, that it is blinding and that I will become filthy rich and extremely successful. No pressure.

A few weeks earlier, a book landed in my possession, and one I would usually describe with gushing tones: It's a coming of age tale of a middle-aged woman who discovers she's a stranger in her own world!

She travels to three different countries, lastly Indonesia where she visits Bali. My friends said I had to read it before we went.

A few pages in I thought it wasn't too profound. I thought shit, I could have written this. But soon her descriptons of Italy had me smelling it again. By the time she traveled to an Ashram in India, I was hooked. I saw myself square in the eye; a woman looking uncertainty square in its eye. But Elizabeth Gilbert was doing something about it.

In the book, she meets a medicine man named Ketut Liyer in the town of Ubud (oo-bood) in Bali. He reads her palm and tells her that she will eventually lose all of her money and then get it back the next day. He also says she will come back one day and live with him. Eventually, everything he says comes true. And thus Eat, Pray, Love landed in my possession.

I met Ketut at his compound in Ubud. I kept tossing around in my head the idea that maybe it's all just self fulfilling and anyways, the future is basically what you want. If you really want to do something, you'll do it. If you don't, you won't. Those were my thoughts as I let another person go before me, unsure if I wanted to actually go through with it.

While waiting, I met a German couple who were both successful journalists. The man had interviewed Angelina Jolie and Billy Idol. He had also written for GQ. The woman wrote for Architecture Magazine and first discovered Bali on an assignment to rate the best luxury resort. God I wanted to be them.

They asked me why I wasn't writing. In a rare moment of honesty, I told them I was scared.

Then he called me over and the palm reading began. And it ended. I walked back to examine my fate in the light of the others'.

He told the Germans they should publish-- which is great because they were thinking of writing a book. He told another girl she would be very successful in something creative, which is really great because she loves to write!

He told me who I was going to marry and that I wouldn't have any kids.

But this dissappointment I should have been feeling was instead masquerading as relief. And no, not only because of the worry-free sex.

After my dull fortune, I was relieved to discover that I've been waiting my entire life for someone to tell me I was good; that I was going to be great. And then when he didn't, I discovered I didn't need him to.

In the car ride back to our homestay I thought about the first day I read Eat, Pray, Love and how I thought; shit, I could have written this. And then I remembered saying that same thing once in an art gallery. I was with my grandfather. I looked at a painting and said, "I could have done that."

He looked down at me and smiled.

"But you didn't."