The Law of Attraction

DAY: 23
LOCATION: Phu Quoc

It didn’t take me long to adjust to island time. I spent an impressive three hours at breakfast, the first to arrive and last to leave. Most of that was catching up with with Monika, some of it was researching Berlinale, and all of it fueled by coffee and tropical fruit.

“Amy, this is so good for you. You really haven’t been alone in ages, there’s always some boy around. Just forget about Levi for a minute, I mean, let’s be real - he lives in Switzerland and isn’t really in line with you. Just do you.”

“I know, but I can’t help it, I like him,” I whined. “I’m really gonna try to stay in my own experience today though and relax.”

“Good,” she replied. “And no more texting James either. That needs to stop, for both of you.”

Of all my addictions, love was the hardest to break. Being alone on Phu Quoc made this painfully obvious. I wasn’t obsessing about sweets or a Mai Tai or Instagram, but I was thinking an awful lot about men.

I figured Esther Hicks could help divert my attention. Another recommendation from Monika, I’d been resistant to hearing about the law of attraction from a woman channeling an entity named Abraham. But I’d been enjoying so much of the material in Law of One, also from a channeled entity (a seventh density being called Ra) that I was becoming open to anything.

Her reassuring voice filled my earbuds as I headed south down the beach. Everyone and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Even the puppies at the rocky point played more lazily with each other. “You are creating this reality.” I am creating this reality. I believed this, but I still didn’t know quite how to implement it. Or maybe I did, but couldn’t fully commit to mindfulness and meditation for whatever reason.

I reached the end of the beach. Or at least, as far as I could go without swimming through some murky brown water. On the other side were the weathered huts and worn junks of villagers. The last resort was a couple hundred meters behind me. I stood in a sort of no man’s land, an in between littered with the “goods” of civilization - Coke cans, empty chip bags, old socks. I knelt down beside a seaweed drenched baby blue Chanel purse. Whether it had been “real” or not hardly mattered - the symbolism felt profound.

Returning to the tourist side, I stopped at the first massage tent on the sand. This was the only thing I had on my agenda, and I figured these women could use the business.

“Okay, all done,” the woman patted my shoulders. It had ended almost as soon as it had began. How could an hour go so fast in a place that moved so slow?

“Thank you so much, that was incredible,” I handed her a few bills.

“You will come back again?” She looked at me hopefully.

“Yes, I’ll come back!” I did one of the prayer-bow things and continued on.

I stopped for lunch at an oceanfront restaurant and ordered morning glory and a vegetable noodle. I logged into their wifi for updates from the outside world (because you know, it’d been nearly three hours.)

Bobby: Going to India in February
Bobby: Come with me

Wait, was he being serious?? Bobby was one of my oldest friends from Los Angeles, a guy I’d been with to Italy, New York, Vegas. Traveling with him was always insane, but in a good way. Mostly.

Me: I’ll totally come! It’s crazy, I must’ve told five different people on this trip that the next place I wanted to go was India, just needed a companion. Synchronicity!

Had I somehow manifested this opportunity? Maybe Abraham Hicks was on to something after all. Now if I could just manifest some stillness in my head from boys…

Nope. I started thinking about dating Bobby. We’d joked about getting married for years, and every so often it seemed like a good idea. He was smart, funny, sophisticated, a doctor. He was even a good kisser, from what I remembered of our one kiss way back when I was 18. But then we’d hang out and I’d remember he was like my brother. Who knows? I paid my check and left.

I did very little that afternoon. Read, nap, some yoga on a towel on the deck. I did decide to do another snorkel the next day. I booked my trip across the street, with a company called John’s Tours.

“Where you from?” The old man who’d been lounging in the same spot since noon asked me.

“California, but I’m ready to get out. Not really feeling the US right now,” I replied.

“That’s all on you. I’ve lived here 17 years, before that Cairns ten years. I’ll never go back to France,” he said it gruffly, like a jilted lover. “It’s changed here too, though. You can’t escape it anymore.”

I nodded in agreement. I kept thinking about what he said as I sat down for dinner at September, a vegan Vietnamese restaurant near my hotel. It surely wouldn’t have existed in the pre-foreigner days. Not all changes were bad, right?

“Is the juice safe?” I asked the only other customer seated next to me.

“I’ve been drinking it for a few weeks with no problems.” He had a delightful Irish accent, the kind I can understand at least 95% of (I’m notoriously bad at hearing.)

“A few weeks! I’m jealous!”

“I’m actually looking to start a restaurant here.”

“Amazing! Are you vegan?”

“Nope, this place just has really good food. Hope you enjoy!” He got up to leave.

“Thanks! Good luck with the restaurant!” I kind of wanted him to stay and keep me company, but it didn’t happen. He was right about the food though, my spicy garlic tofu was great.

It was only 8:30 when I finished, so I figured I’d find a spot for dessert along the water. It was another magical night, the temperature perfect, the ocean barely audible, the stars visible in the inky sky. Restaurant owners pointed at their fresh fish on ice trying to entice me in - I politely declined, amused at how off their attempt was in this case. But they were enthusiastic and wonderful nonetheless.

My search didn’t turn up anything sweet, but I did return to that place of calm, to a vast acceptance of this world. I forgot about boys, about geopolitics, about climate change and slaughterhouses and endless wars. Were these sorts of things happening all over the place? Sure, but in this moment, on this night, all I could experience was the blissful lightness of being.