You're So Lucky.
How three words sparked a conversation that I will remember forever.
My night started in a small restaurant in Indonesia. The tables and chairs were made out of old bamboo strung together, and the floor was a mixture of dirt and sand. I sat reading a book while I waited for a vegetable curry. I’ve been trying my best to travel as lightly as possible, so I have been re-reading the same battered copy of The Power of Now by Eckhart Tolle. The pages are creased and graffitied from all the notes I’ve written in there.
Tolle writes about how human suffering comes from being trapped in thoughts about the past or the future, and how awareness of “the now” can dissolve anxiety, pain, and ego-driven conflict. I often re-read particular sections on days that I’m feeling extra emotional, and this day, I was feeling EXTRA emotional.
“You’re so lucky,” a voice said. I looked up with a soft smile to see an older Indonesian woman passing slowly by my table.
“I am lucky,” I replied. “But why do you say that?” I said.
“You’re lucky because you can read,” she replied. “I wish I could read.”
Her words caught me off guard. I invited her to sit with me and eat dinner, but she had just eaten and was happy to sit and talk instead. She told me about her life and how she works in the rice fields, and when there is no work in the fields, she tries to sell sarongs and bracelets to tourists. She told me of the struggles to pay $25 per month in tuition for her daughter’s school. She said that all she wants in life is for her daughter to live a better life than she was able to.
I caught myself having a thought of ‘she’s just saying these things so I will give her money’ and in that moment, in that thought, I was brought back to compassion. Yes, of course she wants money! I am 26 years old, travelling to another country because I was blessed with an education, something she wasn’t lucky enough to receive and the life she wants her daughter to be able to have. It’s easy for me to give money, but it feels like patching cracks in the surface instead of helping towards the root cause to create a more sustainable system. I can give her the cost of a month’s tuition, but what does that change in the long run?
She told me that she never wants her daughter to be one of the kids on the street selling things to help her, but during my travels, I’ve sadly met many children working on the streets to help their parents. A separate night, I hung out with some local kids selling bracelets. I let them play with my camera for an hour or so, and it was nice to see the kids just being kids. These kids often stay out late at night around the bars, hoping to get money from drunk tourists. Can you imagine that being your childhood!? left completely on your own, the weight of your family’s struggles on your shoulders.
The conversation with the older lady lingered with me long after she left. I kept thinking about the strange contrast: how I had been sitting there with a book on presence, trying to “be in the now,” while she was living a life where the now was inescapable. No planning five years ahead, just the next day’s work, the next day’s meal, the next month’s payment for her daughter’s education.
Maybe my role isn’t to solve the problem, but to hold up a mirror to it. To share stories in a way that makes others pause, notice, and care. To use my camera and my words as a bridge between worlds, connecting people who might never otherwise meet.
Lombok - June 2025
Great book to re read.
Good to have you back on substack also!