We took these pictures on our 513 step hike to a local Hindu temple. I love the quotes on the stairs; I feel they are a representation of our stay in Malaysia. I am going to go through each one and the significance it provided in my journey.



Every meaningful journey begins with the first step.
Often, the step first taken is the most important. It is the part where you step out of your original limits, and stretch yourself. At least it was for us in this case. I remember my  first month there being stressful, lonely, and discouraging. The culture change gave us quite a shock. Some days, I wanted nothing more than to give up. I'm so grateful I didn't. The trials we face at the beginning are incredibly important to the rest of our journey. It just takes some time to adjust. The first step is the hardest to take, but the most important start to your journey of learning.



Faith is our greatest companion on every journey.
Faith is vital. I really have to give the credit to my parents. I was pretty insecure about the idea of moving abroad. When we got there I depended on their enthusiasm until I could develop my own. Often, our life's journey brings us around a bend. We don't know what to expect. It's in these times that we have to really keep our faith and trust that our circumstances can and will change. Mine certainly did. But honestly,  it was less of my circumstances changing, and more of my perception changing. As I learned to love and appreciate differences I was able to shift my day-to-day perception of the cultures around me and to change myself for the better. Faith was the key to change. As I believed and hoped that I would learn to love Penang, the hope turned into reality. As long as we hold onto faith, we can get through the hardest of times.

Here's my 3-part series on our trip to the temples of Angkor, Cambodia (I recognize not all of you are on Instagram- so I've also posted here--I'm looking at you, Mom).

Hint: Make sure to flip through each of the three slideshows (still looking at you, Mom).

Angkor Thom, Cambodia, August 2017 (Angkor Temples, part 1 of 3) _ Angkor Thom is the former capitol of the massive Khmer Empire and was founded in the 12th century. There are many amazing sites here, most notably the picturesque Bayan Temple (each tower features 4 faces). Explore its winding corridors and take stock footage for a future Indiana Jones-style short movie, like Meilin did. You could also live Charlie’s dream of declaring yourself the king of the ancient rock pile, or just nap in the arms of a strong friend, like Cosette did with her mother. If your timing is right, you may run into locals fishing with weighted nets in one of the temple pools. And, there is so much more! _ The breathtaking view from atop Baphuon is worth the cliff-like climb to the top, though kids under 12 are not allowed due to safety reasons. After climbing down the seemingly vertical stairs (you’ll notice how grown men grasp the steep hand rails with white knuckles), you get a gorgeous look at the 70-meter-long Reclining Buddah that’s easy to miss for the less observant; at first sight it looks like just another ruinous temple wall. This is what I love about Angkor. There’s a lovely surprise around every corner, making it natural to channel your inner archeologist and seek life’s deeper meanings through ancient culture.

A post shared by Kyle Larsen (@instahiep) on Oct 4, 2017 at 9:50pm PDT

Ta Prohm, Cambodia, August 2017 (Angkor Temples, part 2 of 3) _ Centuries of human neglect resulted in one of the world's greatest hidden treasures: Ta Prohm. Here, the jungle has siezed control over the temple site, creating a mystical setting that you thought only existed in a Tolkein novel. People come here for the invasive trees; tracing the unpredictable paths of relentless roots through stone wall is reason enough to visit. However, diehard Ta Prohm lovers also swoon over the detailed stone carvings that cover the walls and doorways. What hit me, this time, was the way light sneaks through the leafy cover,  illuminating sections of mossy stones and roots--it's mesmerizing and ever-changing. While you're here, make sure to pause and consider the intersection between nature and humanity. _ This was my 3rd visit to Angkor, but the first with my kids. After hours of corralling tired kids in the hot sun, I was thankful to have some downtime with my girls just outside the temple (while the others explored the inside). Here, I deeply enjoyed observing them interact with the site on their own terms. Amelia searched far and wide for the juiciest moss that could be home to the plumpest of all tardigrades. Cosette pranced around singing Moana songs, climbing big stones and dancing like a Larsen/Goodwin (hint: not well--but that doesn't stop us!). Meilin deeply pondered life’s toughest questions--in a way that only she can--while doing Amelia’s hair. For me, I guess this is what made “the 3rd time a charm!” _ These simple, but magical, memories with my kids helped elevate Ta Prohm as my new favorite Angkor temple. In the end, it’s thrilling to visit far off beautiful places. However, authentic happiness is created by nourishing relationships with loved ones, no matter your location. For me, this was a good reminder.

A post shared by Kyle Larsen (@instahiep) on Oct 5, 2017 at 7:49am PDT

Angkor Wat, Cambodia, August 2017 (Angkor Temples, part 3 of 3) _ French explorer Henri Mouhot said that Angkor Wat "is grander than anything left to us by Rome or Greece," and is still today the largest religious structure on earth. As you can imagine for the 12th century, the Khmer Empire employed highly sophisticated engineering systems to build and support this massive structure on unstable, water-soaked ground. Of all the ancient civilizations I have studied throughout my education, I am surprised at how little attention was given to this highly enlightened and advanced people. _ A lot has changed since my last visit to Angkor 15 years ago. Most notably, there are more visitors now, resulting in more rules to help protect people and the structure itself. This is a departure from the more 'explore-at-your-own-risk' policy during my previous visits. There are also many more security workers to manage the adherence of these rules. Another change is that cell phones are everywhere and many people unabashedly choose a screen over Angkor. To combine the last two, let's not forget to mention the security guards glued to their cell phones, unaware of rule violations happening in plain view, ha! _ What didn't change over the years, however, was my sense of awe and wonder of this magnificent site. In the words of my 2-year-old, "I luh you," Angkor. See you next time.

A post shared by Kyle Larsen (@instahiep) on Oct 7, 2017 at 10:05pm PDT

We later visited a small animal farm that opens its doors to the public, housing primarily goats but also bunnies, prairie dogs, puppies, and even an ostrich! Not sure what it is about kids loving animals, but there seem to be few things as engaging and interesting to youngsters. After one of our kids had a sensory meltdown, a quick cuddle with a baby goat calmed him down sufficiently for the time being (if only we had a goat at home…). Before leaving, we tried some mango-infused goats milk and ice cream made from goats milk, which tasted surprisingly creamy and delicious.
Penang also has beautiful sunsets! At home, Ellie has the best vantage point for sunsets from her balcony on the top floor, overlooking the trees, hills, and a partial view of the ocean:

Well, he really started learning the violin a year ago, but this summer is when he decided to take it seriously. He recently had his first concert, which was a treat for both him and us. What made it especially tasty was the summer-long journey he took to get there.

Below is a clip of one of our favorites from the concert (Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty Suite):


Note: you can only see the top of his head--a slightly lighter shade of brown hair compared to his pure-blood Asian section mates (he can thank his muggle parents for that) :) He's in the 1st violin section, just behind the white-sleeved giant in the front row. You can finally see Erik briefly when they all stand up at the end to bow.

If you saw Tiffany's Instagram post this summer, you know about Erik sadly deciding to quit the violin last May. The short story: without even knowing Erik's plans to quit, his teacher invited him to play in this concert--this provided enough meaningful purpose for him to keep playing.

My little maestro was very close to quitting this instrument six short weeks ago, on account of "sounding terrible" (his words, not mine) and deriving very little enjoyment from practicing his scales and exercises. Truthfully, he threw a little emotional tantrum every day during practice and a more elaborate spectacle before his weekly lesson (though I don't condone these outbursts, I recognize that particularly for a perfectionist, string instruments are beastly to learn). Reluctantly, we gave him permission to withdraw from his music school. Before sharing this decision with his teacher, she extended a serendipitous invitation for Erik to join a summer junior orchestra. The repertoire is far beyond his current ability, but she expressed confidence in his work ethic and he willingly signed on. Everything changed, just like that. I never have to remind him to practice anymore--he just picks up his violin and plugs away at beautiful orchestral arrangements and his technical level has skyrocketed! His first rehearsal was distressing, as he focused on the performance gap between himself and his peers, but that's motivated him to quickly close that gap. Kyle and Libby were so inspired that Kyle went out and bought a viola (and has become quite good already) and Libby signed on to start cello lessons this fall. We're now dreaming of our family string ensemble, and none of this would've transpired if Erik had gone through with his reasonable plan to quit. That's the power of purpose, folks. He had the potential, he had the passion, but only with a thrilling, fulfilling sense of purpose in his playing did it all come alive.

A post shared by Tiffany Larsen (@wanderwomantiff) on Jun 28, 2017 at 6:57am PDT

Erik's heartfelt focus this summer was bringing the joy of the violin to himself and others; we are so proud of him for sticking with it. In fact, we've all benefited from this decision (even baby Cosie requests "Schomkomfsgee" (Tchaikovsky) to lull herself to sleep these days). Since Erik can be particularly hard on himself, I hope the memory of this experience will remind him of how meaningful purpose drives greatness (which helped him endure many hours of difficult practice).

Sidenote: I'm of the school of thought that music shouldn't just be listened to--it should be felt. Without feeling, musical expression becomes mechanical and empty, void of any substantial meaning or inspiration. Whether it's Chopin or De La Soul, Miles Davis or Led Zeppelin, music is an emotional gift from the creator to the listener and should be treated as such.

Erik and his teacher, Rebekah, after the concert.

I was finishing up breakfast when I heard Erik from outside yelling, 'There is a bat out here!' I was surprised, because I didn't think bats lived near this area. I quickly ran outside and Erik led me to the bat. He was about four inches tall and lying on the rocky road. I realized immediately that this bat was injured, so I called for my mom and we edged the bat onto a piece of paper using a stick. After moving the baby bat to a more shady area, I decided to remember this bat forever as Kelly.
In the process of moving Kelly, we realized that he was bleeding a lot. He had a gash on the middle of his back, and one of the bones in his wing was broken and crooked. A bunch of birds had attacked him. It was then that I realized that I could not save Kelly. He was far beyond our help. I felt my spirits drop. I was weighed down. We left him there in the shade as we prepared for a bat-burial.  When I came back a few minutes later, I saw that Kelly had pushed himself off of the paper and was trying to move himself in a different direction. I suddenly had hope. Maybe he could heal. He certainly was gaining strength!

We started trying to feed him fruit, and we used a shell to pour water into his open mouth. He was so cute. We started laughing instead of being sad. We then decided, that if he had enough energy to move around, we could move him to our porch and tend him there. We could feed and take care of him until he was healed. As we were transferring him, he stopped moving. He went rigid.
We took him into the backyard and watched him laying there. He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed and he didn't move. I felt so empty and sad inside when I realized that  Kelly would not make it. We remembered that he still had bad wounds, and that his twisted bone could never heal.  He clung to a stick, and stayed in that position. I was able to draw a picture of him before ants swarmed his body.

  We went back to check on him a few times over the coming hours, and realized each time that he was still alive. At this point I panicked. I didn't know what to do. He had been suffering so long already!  I cried, seeing the slow, agonizing death that Kelly was enduring. I started freaking out as I realized that Kelly had a lot more wounds then I originally perceived.

We called a family meeting on the matter, and were met with two possible solutions: to leave him there to slowly be killed by the ants and his wounds, or to put him out of his misery right there and then. We discussed our opinions on both, and even though we did not like it at all, we knew that putting him out of his misery was the most humane thing to do. We all were deeply saddened by the idea. We did not want to hurt him. But after suffering for so long, we would only be helping him.
Even though I knew it was best for Kelly, I despised the idea. Every part of me fought against it. I had to keep telling myself: it's okay. We are doing this for Kelly. This is the best thing we can do for him.

My dad put poor little Kelly out of his misery right after the meeting. We all buried him together and placed a rock over his grave (inscribed by Amelia). We each shared a few words of mourning and comfort.

We love you Kelly. You were so cute and fluffy. You were a fighter even after those birds attacked you. You made us so happy, and we truly miss you. We hope you are happy and whole now. I hope I always remember you, Kelly.

Fear is a natural emotion that helps us avoid harm--and we experience a lot of it in our large, soft-hearted family (e.g. killer bees, fear that Voldemort is hiding in the bathroom...). Typically, there is a low likelihood of any real danger, making our fears irrational. These kind of fears don't really serve a purpose and cause unnecessary grief. As such, we've been on a mission to face our irrational fears, so we can punch those phobias right in the throat.

Here are some examples:

Fear of Heights
Fear of Bugs
Erik is also an extreme bug lover who chases away pest control guys, cries when we smash the ant trail streaming out of our pantry, and once got a book entitled, How to Convince Your Parents to get you a Pet Tarantula (which didn't work, btw...). However, his bug-loving ways haven't necessarily transferred to the rest of us, and actually he's not a fan of handling bugs himself--he just likes to look at them.

Last week we celebrated Charlie's birthday at Entopia, an insect museum, and had the chance to handle a disgusting scorpion, fascinating rhinoceros beetles (and a giant rhino grub), a 6-inch long millipede, and other creepy crawlies. Did you know that, for its size, the rhino beetle is the strongest animal on the planet and can lift 850 times it's own weight... that's like me dead lifting 70 minivans at once... what???!!!
The employee said that this breed of scorpion only has a "mild" venom--if stung, you'd be sick for "just a couple days." Is that supposed to be funny? However, this kind rarely stings, preferring to use its pincers when threatened. The experience was definitely Fear Factor material and Amelia was the first/most enthusiastic volunteer.

We also encountered other wild creepers in Indonesia a couple weeks ago, like the nastiest poisonous centipede imaginable (below), giant forest ants the size of a quarter, and even a cockroach in the hotel bed. And look--we survived and are now less stressed by some of our irrational fears, understanding a little more about the boundaries of safety.
The lesson for the kids was that just seeing something nasty doesn't mean it will harm you even if it is capable; it usually requires an imminent threat to justify an attack. We can still be grossed out, but no longer have to be paralyzed by fear.

Fear of Snakes
I learned that lesson long ago while hiking many trails in Rocky Mountain rattlesnake territory. There were times I saw rattlesnakes, but I learned to peacefully coexist. As a result, I could enjoy some of the most breathtaking mountains in the world. The existence of snakes--or any possible danger--shouldn't automatically inhibit our ability to enjoy the world's joys and wonders. YOLO!
You may have already read about our experience at the Penang Snake Temple. I will add, though, that we encountered a Wagler's pit viper in the Indonesian jungle. Our guide reconfirmed what we learned previously about the snake's character. This validated the fact that although there is technically potential for danger, our fear of it was irrational because we now understood how to behave; they are nocturnal and extremely shy. There are boundaries to learn and respect; problems usually only arise when people act inappropriately, like when trying to kill it.
Fear of Bats
Taking a lesson from Bruce Wayne, we also spent some time with bats. We later learned that these "Malayan flying foxes" are the largest bats in the world with a wingspan of almost 5 ft. Though the scientific name Pteropus Vampyrus seems to imply a thirst for blood, they actually only eat fruit, nectar, flowers, and pollen. I was shocked that only 3 of 1,100 species of bats consume blood! These demonized vegetarians have a major branding problem...
Not surprisingly, they aren't nearly as dangerous and frightening as we had thought... and maybe even a little bit charming. Sure, it has nasty sharp claws, pointy ribbed ears, huge leathery wings, and a crazy thumb-like dagger appendage coming out mid-wing. It may be weird but not necessarily scary. Unless it has rabies--then it IS scary (but highly unlikely--the CDC states that in the US, human cases of rabies only total 1-2 a year).

Performance Anxiety
Switching gears a little, several of us have talents that subject us to performance fears and anxiety.  Nothing gets your heart thumping like the intense vulnerability performers know--your preparation time is over and it's just you in front of a crowd with nowhere to hide. This skills "test" can be intimidating to even the most seasoned veterans.

Meilin often thrives in this environment--her natural expressiveness lights up the stage in musical theater. She loves the adrenaline rush of performing (one production included 50 live performances and stage fright evaded her every time). However, playing piano in front of others is a different story--mentally, she's swinging from the chandeliers.
Last month she accompanied the youth choir at our church's District Conference. This was in front of a large unfamiliar crowd for a special worship service. She had to muscle through some nervous mistakes in the first verse, but by the third verse she nailed it! As a kid, I wouldn't have had the guts to do that.

Then last Saturday, she was asked to fill in as pianist for our local congregation, giving her less than a day to prepare. This included playing prelude music, congregational hymns, and postlude music. Though an average human nose could smell her nervousness from about 5 meters away, she played through the fear brilliantly. At one point, she made a mistake and couldn't find her place for several measures-- she panicked a little, regrouped, and picked right back up again. What a pro!

Side note: the myth of perfection is extremely dangerous because of course it's unattainable. Mistakes are a requirement for overcoming perfectionist fears and unrealistic expectations. We stunt our growth when we avoid doing difficult things because we fear failure (a trap I have found myself in, as well as our two perfectionist children). We can work through mistakes no matter how big or small, and life goes on. Progression should be measured, not perfection. If this is your mindset, your alleviated grief bone will thank you regularly.

Final Thoughts
Facing an irrational fear demystifies it, bringing an understanding of more realistic outcomes. It also enables a dramatic power shift from the paralyzing emotion of phobia to the courage center of your mighty brain. The new experience allows you to sustain your newfound courage into the future. Facing fears in a safe environment breeds the confidence needed to maximize personal freedom and happiness.

By nature, I am a worrier. It's something I've been working on for years! As a kid, my mom convinced me that my "creative" worries were evidence of imaginative genius (also please appreciate my mullet, below). Her attitude helped me discover some hidden value in my fears, bringing a secret pride to my anxious kid mind. This resulted in more creative pursuits and I'm a better person because of it. However, this attitude did keep my worries unchecked well into adulthood, though less so during those seemingly invincible teenage years before my brain fully developed... (but that's another story.)
Dale Carnegie's book How to Stop Worrying and Start Living helped me start with a few techniques that I still use weekly, if not daily, with myself or my kids. My favorite tactic is to mentally work through a perceived worst case scenario, considering its likelihood of playing out. And since I feel mentally prepared for a worst case scenario, it makes facing a less-than-desirable situation much more manageable.

FDR famously said, "The only thing to fear is fear itself." We're taking a proactive approach to managing our fears-- we've faced 9 of these top 10 fears in the past month! There is much more conquering ahead of us, but we've gotten a great start.

In a world fraught with danger and uncertainty, we do need to be vigilant and aware of our surroundings, but our fears need not paralyze us... or even change our behavior unless there is a reasonable chance that our fears will play out. If the fear is unlikely, we can improve our quality of life by defeating it.

Victory
In many cases, these abandoned homes and land had been in the family for generations. One kind man invited us into his family home just as he was leaving at dusk. He thankfully spoke a little English.  As we walked in, he lit a small candle and showed us around, pointing out the religious pictures on the wall. The inside was previously covered in a carpet of ash (still noticeable around the edges), but he has cleaned it up nicely. I thought he takes very good care of the house considering that no one can ever live in it again. He proudly showed us around.
This man's grandfather helped establish the village many years ago, which only increased the emotional difficulty to leave. This is his home; I believe it's where he grew up. He had survived, but still longed to be here even though the government forbids it. In much of the world, there is a strong connection between the land and identity (something some of my fellow Americans don't quite grasp; we have a relatively short history, high mobility, and plenty of land). Take land away and these people lose a piece of themselves. This theme is at the core of many domestic and international disputes.
When I asked this man's name, he said: "Victory." How powerful! True, though being a survivor is not the same as being a victor (I mean, how does a farmer defeat a volcano?). His real victory comes from defeating his internal struggles resulting from his displacement and loss. I have so much respect for him and his family and am sincerely thankful he was willing to share a glimpse of his family's survival story. What a meaningful education that sank deep into our hearts.

Conclusion
This is the real world, my friends. There are amazing people hidden all around us who have experienced something incredibly difficult, and survived. This sometimes painful world mass-produces "survivors" through our human experiences with natural disasters, sickness, addiction, accidents, injustice, mental illness, among many others. Whether the stimulus comes from a volcano or just making it through another day in middle school, to be human is to be a survivor. The basic instinct to survive is in our genetic makeup. Furthermore, surviving creates depth in our character as we become victors over the pains of our human experience.

While most of us don't have a deadly volcano in our backyard, we have a lot in common with these inspiring people. I think this is why I feel such a strong attachment with this remote ghost town--they inspired me. In the moment, our hardships may seem unbearable. However, life goes on and we find a way to make it through, though changed.

Bonus Pics

Take note of the caked-on layer of ash, burn designs in the wood siding (from the hot ash), knocked out piece of roof, and some remains of a melted plastic banner on the side of the house.

There was a big difference in the condition of tile homes and wooden homes. Tile can be wiped down clean with minimal visible damage to the outside, often revealing some bright colors. The wooden ones--even if brushed off--looked like they had been uninhabited since the 1800s (not unlike gold rush 'ghost towns' I have visited in the western US). The state of the homes and belongings was so deteriorated that it was hard to believe this was a prosperous, flourishing town only a few short years ago.

Charlie's favorite part of the abandoned town was treasure hunting (if you've read the Our Family section of the blog, you know he aspires to grow up to be Wall-E: a collector of trash treasures). Our guide kept trying to sell me on the idea of giving Charlie this rusty old oil lamp as a souvenir... I insisted that a picture would suffice. The big sheets of material in the left picture are pieces of the ceiling that had caved-in.

Here's some other left behind remnants of the eruptions. Notice the deformed/melted plastic, layer of ash on almost all surfaces inside and out, clothes still out to dry (just as they were left), and other belongings that seem untouched.

This must have been a magnificent banyan tree. It burned down in the big eruption in May 2016. I would have loved to see it while alive, but I was 1-year too late.

Apparently this is a nice NEW (expensive) moto. The assumption is that the owner used government relief funds intended for other use (housing, food, etc.). Without remembering the details of the story, I could tell there is some animosity toward this individual's behavior, whether or not the funding assumption was true or only perceived. I dare say this scenario could be played out in almost any country where there's a perception of unequal distribution of government resources (OK, all countries?).

The edge of civilization. I was told that houses used to line small stream below, but now there is nothing left. You can only see the very bottom of the volcano--the rest is hidden by clouds.

Here's a large mound of compressed and hardened ash. It's amazing to think of the force needed to blow this much material out of that mountain... Ash flew 12,000 ft in the sky.