Goodbye.

I lost it on my last day in India.
The stress and exhaustion of recovering from a major illness, the heat and dirt of twelve hours broke as shit in Bombay, the uncertainty of going home to the US with no immediate plans to leave...

It all came upon me at once, today and I cried for the first time in a long time. I loved this country, thank you for everything, India. 

Ever the Spoiled Westerner

Ever the spoiled westerner.

I started crying today when things didn’t go my way, I was too embarrassed to give money to the beggar tapping on the taxi window so I gave her my coffee instead. Didn’t want to pull out my wad of bills in front of her, because she would have kept asking for more. I have mere hours left in this country, what are rupees to me anyways? In 24 hours what will not even buy me a bottle of water she could feed her entire family with. I feel selfish and fat and American, escaping the heat, misery, dirt, grime, noise and filth with my ticket stateside. Running from this third world, I am exhausted and hiding behind my money and my passport; who knows how much money I am going to spend in the next six hours. 

I’m embarrassed how badly I want out of this country right now, off this continent. Its all about loving and living and practicing patience but I lost it today, and look what happened. Always keeping my cool and smiling, laughing, shrugging it all off. But its more and more difficult the longer I sit here, tired and dirty, broke but treated rich because I’m white.

Women in India buy creams and dyes to lighten their skin, I lay in the sand and turn nut-brown, hair bleaching like veins of gold in sandstone.

List Making Mood

Plannnnnnnnnnnnns:

This week: 8000 miles to Oly!

This spring: NW explorations, missions down the coast. 101 to San Fran, east to Jtree... either north to Yosemite or south to Baja! Both. Big Sur and the Redwoods and back to Seattle. Whistler? Sea to Sky. Canyonlands, Arches, eating apples all the way.

Summer: Broke by now, back to el Caribe and deliveries to the Med or skip the season all together in favor of greener pastures? France in June to see the lovely Sanny, Lake District in the UK for Buddhist Summer Festival? ALASKA ALASKA ALASKA! Work my way up the Inside Passage. Iceburgs and Denali, Glacier Bay, Kenai, go be one with the orca and bears for awhile, get over my fear of pinnipeds and chill with some sea lions, swim with the salmon for I am a salmon myself.

Fall: Quick trip to Mexico has potential to turn into one year later, or swallow my pride and sign a lease, finish that damn degree?

Last week in India

It’s beautiful on this beach. I wish that my mind would ease and let me relax into this lifestyle again, this wonderful blur of days spent doing nothing on sand and under coconut trees. But I am craving something new, and these years of tropical natural beauty have made me lazy, and although I have only five days left of soft pastel sunrises and baking afternoon heat, of thali and scooter rides down jungle roads, of constant company and the unceasing noise and litter and cows, I can always come back.

So here I sit, in the middle of a crescent of white sand set between two hills, the lush green of a monkey-filled jungle at my back, gazing across the Arabian Sea. This beach is full of an easy life, easy compared to some, its all relative after all. The people are beautiful and open and loving, always welcoming and smiling and touching each other. Coming from the Caribbean where no one touches you and the locals don’t want much to do with anyone it is refreshing to see the goodness of human nature bursting out of everyone around me. Before I came to India, people I knew, guidebooks I read, everyone warned me to be careful, to never let me guard down, that this country was waiting to swallow me whole. I stared down men before they started leering, I acted aloof and haughty before shopkeepers and taxi drivers, I guarded my possessions day and night and I regarded everyone I met with frosty suspicion.

But gradually, I came to my senses. After three months in this country I have not been taking advantage of once, not one man has acted inappropriately, not one person has robbed me or been unkind to me in any way. The angriest I have been at anyone here is when someone is too nice to me, too interested in my life and where I come from, and arrogantly I have felt too busy to want to interact.

I would leave my door unlocked while I went for a swim at the beach, I would lend my computer to fellow travelers who needed the internet, twice now I have forgotten my purse with all my money, credit cards and passport at a shop in a busy Indian city and when I finally realized it half an hour later and rushed back, the shopkeepers have lectured me about losing my possessions and made me promise I would be more careful next time. Maybe its because I no longer have any real material attachment to the objects I own, or maybe its because when I trust and love I do not attract thieves, but I am so very glad that I dropped my guard and learned to trust this country.

I’ve been welcomed into homes and invited to dinner, been shown countless peeling and faded family photo albums, explained to dozens of women why I am not married yet and assured them that although I do not live with my parents, I still love them very much. I’ve been given amazing prices on souvenirs when I have gone into a shop, and sat down to talk over tea for an hour or so before beginning to barter. I’ve been pulled off a train by a nun, horrified that I was traveling alone, when I was too sick with food poisoning to go any further, and when I really needed someone to take care of me, weirdly enough the sisters of Our Lady the Savior were there to help.

Muslims, Buddhists, Hindus, Catholics have all treated me the same. Men and women, kids, it didn’t matter. In Mysore, I sat on layers and layers of bright silk rugs in the basement of a shop drinking Kashmiri tea and discussing religion with a Muslim man who was infinitely more accepting and open about other faiths than any Christian I have ever met. You would have to be, I suppose, in a country of a billion with so many different beliefs. I wonder what America would look like if we had such love and acceptance for our neighbors. If on every street corner there was a church, a mosk, a temple, and before the bells start ringing at each the men all stand together sharing tea, the women gossiping happily with their friends, the children running through it all not constrained by religious boundaries.

There are over a billion people packed together in this space and at times it feels like every one of them is looking at me. I realized, however, that they are staring at me not to be rude, not to seem intrusive or to make ME feel anything at all. People would look at me because I am different, and they are satisfying their own curiosity, the same way I watch women balancing baskets on their heads or smoking men wearing lungis. Indian culture is one of openness, who am I to get irritated and annoyed when everyone who sees me feels the need to come over, stop me on the road to shake my hand and ask me where I am from? What kind of continental drifter would I be if I expected to find a western world, complete with western social stigmas and rules when I came to the east? I am the visitor here, I am the guest on foreign soil, so I embrace this life, eat with the fingers of my right hand and sip a steaming cup of chai while I look on to the amazing human kindness that surrounds me, feeling hopeful for the future.

Christmas Letter '10

Namaste!

For five continuous years I have been drifting from continent to continent, experiencing, learning, and always growing as a person. But this year, thousands of miles from the people I love, marks my first year celebrating the holidays alone. It was a long path that brought me here to Asia, and a longer one still that caused me to travel here on my own, but although I miss my family and friends I am so grateful for the choices I made that lead me here.

Spring brings about change, and when my relationship of three years ended this past April I was suffering from my first lost love. I knew I needed something different, something new. Laying in bed one night, nursing my broken heart I was filled with anxiety and doubt about my future; where to go next, what to do with my life now that I was on my own again, but I placed myself fully in the hands of the universe and trusted that the path forward would become clear. It did, and soon I sailing away from the Caribbean bound for the Mediterranean Sea and the rest of the world, to whatever was waiting for me there.

When you live with an open heart and trust that things will all turn out alright, its easier to take risks; to leave behind all family and friends, all of the support and comfort of home, and venture off over and over again into the unknown. Although constantly adapting to new situations, making new friends is liberating and exciting, the life-blood of traveling, it can begin to wear on you.

I found this to be true as I worked my way around the Med, sailing in Monaco, Italy, France and Greece, freelancing on different yachts. I began miss the freedom, privacy and sanity that “real life” on land gives, and I was also beginning to wonder if it wasn’t time to focus on bringing a bit of balance to my life. So, I packed my bags and set out for Barcelona and an overnight ferry to the Balearic Island of Ibiza.

There I found a job at a yoga retreat set up in the hills overlooking a rocky beach in the north of the island. This fanned the spark that was beginning to grow in my heart, a wish to train my body, to heal my mind and start down a meaningful path. But again, while living in a tepee on a remote beach in Spain was amazing, it was not what I was looking for. My feet had begun to itch again. A trend for this year has been the incredible restlessness that has built up inside me whenever I have stayed put too long. This tendency to always be looking for greener pastures reveled itself again when after six weeks in my Spanish paradise I booked a ticket home to Olympia, to spend some time with the people in the world who love me the most.

Summer in the Northwest is always wonderful. Lush and green, with long bike rides and random skinny dipping missions, piles of blackberries and rainier cherries, camping trips with friends to mountain lakes and the comforting presence of home. I was able to spend time with my family, and for the first time in a long while I felt almost like staying. In fact, when I booked my plane tickets for my next foray into the world, I did so with a pang of regret.

Late summer and fall I wandered from the busy streets of San Francisco and NYC to the upper echelon of American society in the waterways of New England. The jagged mountains and giant waves of Oahu’s North Shore to a Buddhist temple in the jungles of Brazil and finally, I found my way to the quiet beaches in Southern Goa, India.

Here I delved deeper into my somewhat vague desire to pursue a path in healing and bodywork by taking an intensive month-long Yoga Teacher Training course. For nine hours a day, six days a week I sweated and stretched, learning the Ashtanga Primary Series, meditation, yogic philosophy and the anatomy of asana. Upon completion of the course, I was asked to stay and take over teaching classes at the shala on the beach, and a month later I am still here, earning a living teaching yoga in India.

I cant say how long I will spend in Goa, already my mind is wandering to the glacial wilderness of Alaska, and even daydreaming about settling down and going back to university. All I know for certain is that as amazing as the world is I have yet to find my place in it, and I will continue to search until I do.

I am so thankful to all of you for giving me the strength, love and support that makes wandering the world so safe for me, always knowing I have a home to come back to. Merry Christmas to all, and the Happiest of New Years!

Love,

Cadence Tess

Saturday

Today I woke up just as dawn was breaking. 

I laid around in bed for awhile listening to the sounds of the day beginning around me; the ravens fighting the stray cats for rights to the best garbage, dogs barking, the girls sweeping the earth outside with long brooms made of palm fronds. Finally willing myself to get up I dressed quickly, went through the complicated routine of brushing my teeth and washing my face without using tap water and went out into the world. I walk barefooted down the beach in the lovely pink light of dawn to the yoga shala, passing herds of cows sleeping in the sand, always in the company of friendly stray dogs.

I taught 8am class to 15 students, most of who have now become my friends, demonstrating for 90 minutes how to correctly do sun salutations and the proper alignment of paravita trikonasana or marichiasana. Its hard work, teaching an hour and a half long yoga class twice a day. Keeping up an almost constant dialog without repeating yourself too many times, remembering to mention dristi, bandhas and breath counts, adjusting students both physically and verbally, and maintaining a pace that challenges advanced practitioners without killing the beginning students. I love the challenge, however, and am so proud of myself when after class I have people coming up to me saying it was the best class they have ever taken. 

Afterwards, a group of us always go for breakfast at the Little Fatima’s General Store. It’s a tiny hole in the wall run by Agonda’s longtime matriarch Fatima, a little old woman who everyone (westerners included) respectively addresses as “Antie”. The room’s three small tables are always full and so we stand outside chatting in the sun and waiting for some of the Indian laborers to finish their puji (chickpea and lentil breakfast) and file out to wash their hands at the outdoor sink. I order the same thing ever day, water porridge and fruit salad, but I can’t resist grabbing a few hot, fresh veg samosas wrapped in pieces of newspaper to munch while we wait. This spot is the main hub for anyone who has been in Agonda for more than a few weeks. It takes that long to realize that the cramped and kind of dirty little store is really the best place for breakfast and lassis in town, and as we eat there is a constant stream of friends and familiar faces passing by. Mounted on the walls all around the room are shelves overflowing with packets of biscuits and bags of oatmeal sugar, and dry goods. While you sit there is always a little old Indian woman dressed in a sari reaching over your head to grab something off the shelf, or a boy in his brown school uniform asking you to pass him some biscuits he cant reach. Everyone shares tables and benches as there is so little room, and the conversation usually includes everyone in the restaurant. After paying R60 for my entire breakfast I wander back to my room, only a minute’s walk away, and change out of my yoga clothes.

The only real thing I have against Fatima’s is that all the coffee they serve is instant, so I order a cup from the bar at my place and sit down, chatting with the Nepalese guys who work here and have all become my friends. Its already 11, in between the breakfast and the lunch rush at Jardim a Mar, so about ten of them are all grouped around the bar, smoking, drinking coffee and reading the paper, laughing and talking in rapid Nepalese. Kumar, the head chef challenges me to a game of chess and the next hour is spent locked in a serious and bloody battle, with the rest of the guys looking on and shouting advice. Miraculously I end up forcing a draw.

A good way to spend the morning.

There were dolphins in the bay today and I lounged on the beach for a while watching them, soaking up my daily does of sun, and swimming when I got too hot. Getting to the water is sometimes an ordeal however, as the midday sun turn the sand into a bed of coals and if you walk too slow you burn the hell out of your feet. To be safe I take the 20 yards or so at a healthy trot… 

By mid afternoon I am getting hungry again, and for the last two weeks have had a standing lunch date with a group of young travelers like myself at a place just down from my house. At 2 pm when I show up they are already there and we all order the same, veg thali. Thali is a serving of day fry (lentils) and three or four tiny portions of different vegetables always served with rice, a chapatti and a papadom. They all come in individual containers resting on a tin platter about a foot across, and a banana on the side for desert. You dump everything together onto the platter, mix it together with your hands and have fun eating the messy rice with your fingers and scooping the particularly soupy bits up with chapatti. I’m sitting with two American cousins, Steve and Bobby, who run a tour company in India and have been staying in Agonda for the last few months while they scout out the best places to organize trips to in Goa and make contacts with reliable taxi drivers. There is a pair Australian girls next to me who I met in my yoga class and not only work on yachts in the Caribbean and Med, but remember me from when I was bartending in SXM. John, a sweet pothead from the UK who has no plans ever to return to his homeland and Benny, a lovely young gay man on a spiritual journey around India for six months. The last person at our table is Eloise, an incredibly a beautiful young Italian woman who came here on holiday months ago and fell in love with a gorgeous Indian lifeguard. His parents don’t approve, but they are going to get married. While we eat our thali, we trade travel stories and talk about spirituality and our previous lives, the ones back “home” that just do not seem real anymore. Somehow, every day we always end up discussing how big the world is, how many corners of the globe there is still to explore. 

I have to excuse myself hours later to get to my evening yoga class, teaching five more students in the baking late afternoon heat. We do a mellow practice, its just too hot for the full primary series. By the time I get home its almost sunset, but there is still more than enough time to join the Nepalese guys for a game of volleyball on the beach. I’m useless, but they tolerate my company anyways (most likely because I am wearing ali baba trousers and a string bikini top). However the game transforms from volleyball to soccer and in the light of the setting sun I surprise them all by stealing the ball and scoring about a million times. Its almost dark when, sandy, sweating and  soaking wet from getting slide tackled in ankle-deep waves, I make it back to my room.

Every time I walk in my door I light a stick of nag champa and now I have come to associate the smell with comfort, privacy, with home. Freshly showered and dressed in fairly clean clothes I walk down the road a ways to a plywood stand sagging under the weight of fresh fruits.  A tiny woman with a huge gold ring in her nose smiles and wiggles her head at me, I wag mine back in poor imitation of the famous Indian gesture and look to the piles of papaya, stacks of coconuts small round watermelons and sweet melons, pomegranates and avocados, big baskets of sweet limes and bananas, and the very first small and stunted mangos of the season. After a thorough examination of every single papaya on the stand I finally select one I like and pay her R20. It’s the best dinner I can ask for on a hot night after a long day of living the life that I do on the beach in Goa.

Calvin and Hobbes

So in this one Calvin and Hobbes cartoon, the boy and his tiger are walking around in the foods during fall, when the boy starts talking about how much he hates love because people are jerks. They look around and Hobbes replies, "Yeah, sometimes people are jerks, but look at the colors of the trees today. I think its more fun to see something like this WITH someone than by yourself".

This is how I felt today, this is how I feel often.

Today after teaching my morning 90-minute yoga class I took a long walk by myself down to the other end of the beach. It ends with a fresh water river running into the sea, and a mass of huge boulders tumbled together stretching around the point. I took off my shirt and shoes, hid them in the bushes, and scrambled from rock to rock for hours. Its one of my favorite things to do, missioning on rocks, climbing, jumping, sliding, scampering even. Every time I climbed up onto another rock, or rounded another corner I discovered more boulders in my way, and had to figure out how to get passed them. It’s like a kind of puzzle you must solve to get to the treasure or end or something, and every time I play on rocks I feel like a little kid again. I went on until I was too hot and tired in the midday sun, and found a huge rock shaped like a head from Easter Island, Where it’s chin would have been, was a kind of overhang that gave the perfect amount of shade for two, but I was only one. I sat down, resting my scraped and burning feet and looked out at the greenish-blue of the Arabian Sea, the hills of the jungle and remote points across the bay, shrouded in mist, and it was so beautiful. But, I couldn’t help but notice that it was the kind of beauty that was almost meaningless, because there was no one to point it out to, no one to share it with. Being single is wonderful and freeing, I can do anything I want! But there is a difference between being single and being alone.

But don’t think I was feeling sorry for myself! I was actually enjoying the solitude, the sun and it was almost a kind of moving meditation. Later, I walked back up the beach toward my hut and passed by a group of people I had briefly met a few days before, and they invited me for a sit and a swim and later for some thali at my favorite restaurant. It’s great making friends, and while traveling it is so easy to do because everyone else is as lonely as you are. However, the friends you make abroad are a different breed usually, it’s the kind of friendship that burns hot and bright and then is suddenly done, and you don’t ever see them again. That’s both good and bad. I mean, on one hand you are instantly best friends, not wasting any time feeling each other out or on all the petty differences. But on the other, in a day or two (or week) you exchange email addresses and go your separate ways, and then must do it all over again in the next spot… Again, not complaining really, just observing.

Thankful

Just back from a Thanksgiving dinner with friends, eaten on the beach with bare feet in the sand under strands of colored lanterns and a sky full of stars.. Instead of turkey and mashed potatoes we stuffed ourselves with vegetable pakoras, masala curries, dum aloo, palak paneer and stacks and stacks of fresh hot rotis. We were a very multicultural table, with Indians, Bhutanese, Mexicans, Dutch, Swiss, Australian, Icelandic, Norwegian, and we four Americans reminisced about our past Thanksgivings, compared recipes for our favorite foods, and horrified the others with a telling of the Thanksgiving story. There is something about spending holidays 7,960 miles away from the people you love that really makes you appreciate the good in the people you are with.

I am so thankful for everyone in the world that I love; thankful for our health and prosperity, especially when faced with the reality of how so many others in the world live. I’m thankful for the opportunities I have had to travel and see, taste, experience new things every day, for the people I have met that became my adopted family out in the world. And although I am ashamed to admit it, I am thankful that when my travels here are done I have a return ticket back to my peaceful, clean, wealthy country.

Three Weeks

Today is exactly three weeks in India, 21 days of dal fry and veg thali, very early mornings and intense asana practice, countless breaths spent in Ardo Mukku Savanasana (Downward Facing Dog).  It’s been wonderful so far, but I am also in paradise as far as Indian villages are concerned. This has been an incredibly quiet little rural village up until now, but this week so many new little shops selling exactly the same things as the others have opened and new restaurants, guesthouses and massage clinics too. 

The monsoon season is officially over and the people here are really kicking it into high gear and preparing for tourist season, all of our favorite places to eat have raised the prices by 5-15 INR! It’s hot and humid still, but I am finally getting used to the constant sweat I’ve been in, and although there is no physical change that I can see, my body feels so much stronger. When we first started the course, vinyasas were a struggle. Flowing smoothly through Sun Salutations, holding poses for the full five breaths, doing push up after pushup and rolling from Chattaranga (Plank) to Up Dog, it was all so hard and exhausting! Now its almost easy, and after four hours of yoga everyday I’m still ready to shower and go out, no longer so utterly dead tired that I could barely keep my eyes open at 7pm!

We started teaching sections of the Primary Series in our second week and have moved onto developing our own sequences and styles in the afternoon classes. I am so proud of myself, having been asked to teach more than anyone else in our class by our teacher Deepak and by my fellow students. Today after jumping in and leading a class of 19 for an hour all through the standing poses and half of the sitting, using all the Sanskrit names, mentioning dristi, bandhas and breath count, I was told by my peers that it felt like a regular class, and that I teach like I’ve been doing it for years. It was so nice to hear, so nice to have embraced this training.

But it’s almost over! Time is such a funny thing, moving so quickly these days that I barely have time to experience the days before the sun is setting! Although I grumble getting out of bed in the dark every morning at 5:30 am, there is something magical about being up before the sun and it is so wonderful to have the whole day planned out, to not have any decisions to make other than what to eat for dinner… if I could, I would do another TTC next month, I would stay in this healthy, spiritual environment as long as possible.

I’ve decided that although I want so badly to see the Himalayas and the high altitude lakes and plains of northern India and Nepal, I am instead going to head south when I leave here next week. It would be so cool to go to the mountains but I just did not pack and prepare properly for anything but the tropics. That just means that I will have to come back again, and I do not mind that thought at all.

Goa

India.

It is so different here than I expected, although admittedly I did not have a clear picture in my head of what I would find when I finally got to Goa. Instead I am astonished that things that I could never have imagined a week ago are so commonplace here! I arrived on this continent for the first time six days ago, and the first thing I noticed when I stepped off the plane in Goa was how differently the air smelled from anywhere else I have ever been. Its funny, but before I left for Italy when I was 18 my sister told me to pay attention to the different scents wherever I went, and that thought has really stuck with me. I think that our sense of smell is much more powerful than taste, touch or sight, how you can smell a certain food or animal or flower and be instantly reminded of people, places, a moment brought back from childhood. That is what is amazing me here, is that the air is heavy with spices and foods and exotic perfumes as well as the heavy, musty smell of rain and earth, and yet none of it is familiar! Everything is brand new to me!

 I was on my guard when I landed in Goa, ready to be haggled and bothered and ripped off, seen as easy prey by the locals, keeping my eyes wide open for men who would be trying to take advantage of me, beggars, pickpockets, thieves… But it was exactly the opposite! I walked out of the airport and straight to a stand that said TAXI, told a group of sweaty, smoking men I needed to go to Agonda Beach and instantly they were all smiles and handshakes, helping me with my bag and giving me the exact price my friend had told me to ask for. It was an hour and a half drive down tiny jungle roads to the beach, and as I had been traveling for 68 hours straight I was barely coherent, but I somehow managed polite conversation with my driver while I stared out the window at passing coconut trees and little shacks, herds of cows, women wearing bright saris and signs advertising all sorts of foreign things. Agonda Beach is really lovely. It is a tiny little town consisting of one road about a mile and a half long that is more dirt than pavement, and all along it are guest houses, little restaurants and shops that sell only a few things each. The beach is a crescent of white sand in between two hills, with palm, banana, mango and coconut trees on one side and the dull blue of the Arabian Sea on the other. Herds of cows roam everywhere here, and at midday they go to the beach wading into the water to cool off, before laying down in the shade of the trees for a nap. Packs of stray dogs roam around, whining and following you until you pet them behind the ears, and huge grey and black pigs root around in the bushes.

The people are all incredibly open and curious so far, I haven’t met anyone who has tried to hassle me for money, nor have I been bothered by leering and catcalling men. In short, its exactly the opposite of everything the guidebook told me, although I am in the south of Goa, where woman can wear shorts and tank tops and not have to worry like they do in the more northern, conservative states.

The yoga is great and my body feels amazing. I am beginning to gain a more in depth understanding of what yoga actually is, the history, the philosophy, the science behind it and the way you must live in order to call what you do “yoga”. The asanas are the least important of all the eight limbs of Ashtanga yoga, and it’s amazing how much I am learning! Its hot and humid and I sweat more than I ever have before during practice, and as I have been here less than a week I am feeling a little stiff and sore, but honestly not nearly as bad as I expected.

Every morning at 6:20 we have a pranyama and meditation class until 7:45, followed by a two-hour asana practice before breakfast. Then we are back an hour later for our philosophy lecture and a talk on ayuveda. This is fascinating to me, and I cant wait to go deeper into the 5000-year-old medical science of India! During our 2.5-hour lunch break the other students and I have been eating a quick Indian lunch like roti or papad masala and then going to the beach for a swim and then to study. At 3pm we are back for anatomy and our afternoon asana class. By 6pm I am tired and have just enough energy for a banana lassi while we watch the sunset and make small talk before passing out.  Its great. I like it here.

flying

The nine-hour flight from London to Mumbai was the third long haul, overnight flight I was on in as many days, and I was running on fumes. After 60 hours of flying and layovers from Sao Paulo to Rio to Atlanta to NYC to London I had only been able to get about ten hours of sleep, and that had been sitting upright at 38,000 feet so my body was starting to feel it. I shut my window in darkness at midnight flying over the Ukraine, and opened it again four hours later to bright sunlight and by the interactive map we were directly over Pakistan. It was one of the most striking landscapes I have ever seen. Desert as far as I could see (which from 5 miles was pretty far!) cut by huge mountain ranges and dunes so large that I could see the shadows they cast from as high as I was. Every now and then I noticed tiny grids of villages or towns, little square plots of farmland, but not many and those were far between. It’s amazing how much land there is in the world. Nothing seen from a plane looks real to me, maybe its because no matter how many times I fly I can never quite wrap my head around the fact that I am miles, hurtling forwards at 500 miles per hour in a little aluminum capsule, but it was still incredible to see a part of the world that I have heard so much about. I wonder if it really is just chance that I was born in the wonderful utopia that is Olympia? 

nyc

I love this city!
It seems like I have been flying in and out of JFK a lot lately, and it is a little strange being almost as familiar with this airport as I am with Seatac. This place is amazing though, you can literally feel all of the energy of millions of people swirling around the streets, a constant sea of people on their way somewhere and I anonymous in the middle.
After near four years of staying with Dyami every time I pass through town I finally met his boyfriend Rich the other night. Although it was only a few minutes of chatting at 3am before he flew off at the last minute to Abu Dhabi for three days with Uma Therman to dress and style her for some film festival over there. Totally different world!
Dyami is lovely though, its so nice to have a proper brother out in the world.

I hate flying west to east though! I have not been able to sleep much lately, either from nerves or too much stuff to do or something deep in my subconsious, but that added with the slight three hour time difference from the opposite coast means I am feeling really worn down. Its ok though, everything is always ok really, and in nine and a half hours I will be on a plan heading thousands of miles south to Sao Paulo.

It all starting again!

East Coast

The water, the world

It is there outside this boat

and I cant get off.

A haiku by Cadence about working on yachts.

End of Summer

So weeks have passed and I have fallen into the easy routine that is being home.
It has been so nice to spend these last eight weeks here, no stress or moving or pressure to do anything really, to just be able to sit quietly and get my head back on straight. Now the next step is approaching and I finally feel ready to take on the world again! It feels today like I am breathing fresh air for the first time in months, like the clouds have parted and I am seeing clearly again.

On a sad note, Ibiza Yoga the center in Ibiza I was working burned down a few weeks ago. In fact, much of Benirras burned. If ever there was a place that needed a cleansing however, the hedonistic lifestyle of that place was it! I'm so glad that none of my friends were hurt, but I cant help but wonder at myself, how I left there thinking "its ok, I can always go back". Things never stop changing.


I am realizing more and more that the universe works itself out, and although the outcome might not be exactly what I wanted it to be, it is always right. Trust in this is important I think, in order to live my life the way I want.

There is so much more, and I will probably delete this post tomorrow as none of my thoughts are coherent or well formed right now.

I am trying so very hard to be the person that I want to be, but its hard to be nice all the time. I am happy for him though, I've always known he would be a great father, just a terrible man to have a kid with.

Home

Overdose on Rainier Cherries, the mountains are out and it is so lovely and hot.
Rediscovered my love for my bike, long rides all day long while listening to Pink Floyd and random blues tunes...
Its good to be home.

Plans

I am done being down, I have snapped out of it.
Things are good, it is so beautiful here, I love sleeping outside. After an unfortunate bed bug incident (very, VERY unpleasant) I have moved out of my tepee and into the best pagoda on the property. It is a platform of dark, hard wood raised about four feet off the ground, with a roof and drop down shades on the sides. This morning I woke with a unobstructed view of the sun rising above the mountain, and the breeze blowing through the thatch. I laid in bed for a little while, warm in my blankets, soft on my sheets, thinking about how fortunate I am and how many different directions my life could have taken. I thought a lot about time that I waste, time spent distracting myself rather than experiencing, the countless hours of watching shitty TV or reading trashy books instead of really living. I have no excuses now. I have survived heartbreak and the end of the tunnel is indeed near, and it is time to stop mourning and start living again. Thank god, I was getting sick of being bummed out.

I leave in five days. I didn't think that I would ever leave this place but I am having the urge to go home to Olympia and during these last few years of traveling I have learned not to ignore these kind of impulses. NYC next weekend, the big city with lots of friends, still need to buy my ticket back to Seattle. The east coast for who knows how long, but ultimately home sweet home to see all of my friends and family. I love summers in the North West! Sweet smelling trees and green green grass, swimming in the river, BBQs at Burfoot, sticky hot nights, watching the sunset at 10pm, fruit missions to Eastern WA and everything else about it.

So many trips planned this summer. I want to spend a week in the Enchantments and the Stuarts. I want to drive to Mexico, hugging the coast except when there are mountains to explore nearby. I want to live the life I have always wanted, footloose and fancy free with nothing to hold me back or tie me down, and I want to do it with a smile on my face.

Good vibes this morning. Cup of ginger tea and the wind howling through the pines and the world is mine for the taking.

Breathing

I took a long walk up the mountain behind my tepee yesterday and found a completely different world on the other side. Peaceful, no one else for what felt like miles! There was no trail, but I wound and twisted my way up and at the top I found a panoramic view of the Med spread out before me, with massive cliffs at my feet and seabirds soaring all around. I climbed a little way down and sat on a big rock and focused on my breath and felt the sun and the wind on my face and watched the sun sink lower and lower. Although I still struggle sometimes with quieting my mind while I meditate, practice makes perfect. At the base of the cliffs there is a spot where I would love to swim and something that looks almost like a cave, and so I will have to find a way down now to explore. This is a pretty place, that is for sure.

Grey

It is raining here in Ibiza this morning, the ground is just wet enough to keep the dust down, the trees and cacti here drink up quick, and I can really feel the weight of the atmosphere on my shoulders pushing me back into my bed.

I am homesick. Its a lonely world for a wayward girl running away from her problems. I am restless, I need to keep moving. When I stop for too long it really hits home that I have no idea what I am doing, no idea where I am going, how incredibly lonely I am. I love this place that I am in, the beach is beautiful and the trees smell so lovely, but I have realized that this is not how I want to spend my summer, looking after this yoga retreat. It would be so perfect if there were others around who were just a little bit like me, interested in living a healthy and spiritual life. As great as the other staff members are here, it is still Ibiza and the club scene dominates all else.

I dont know if I want to get back onto boats, I dont know if I want to stay in Europe, I dont know if I want to go back to the States... I dont know much, other than just existing is not good enough for me right now, I need a spark, something to really inspire me again. It is the grass/otherside thing again, I need to find peace and contentment within myself but it is so much more difficult than I had thought. I love myself, but I am alone in the world.

I have never had such an emotional few months, and I am so wanting to just be OK again, to be able to sit quietly somewhere and not have a constant stream of thoughts about my past and what I would have done differently; thoughts of him and her, and how I am the one alone. This end, its like nothing I have ever felt before. Everything is over, done, I no longer have that calming, protective presence around all the time. The lover, best friend, partner... its all gone and all that is left this little bit of myself that I dont recognize. I put my entire self into my relationship with him and the rejection, instead of getting easier to deal with over time, is sharpening, hurting deeper down after the initial shock has worn off, hurting in places I never expected. Now I am realizing that not only is he gone, along with the whole life I was living, but I am really, truly on my own.

Every day is different. Some days that thought makes me smile and I get excited thinking about how strong of a woman this is making me, how I will do all the things I want in life without anyone to hold me back. But some days I think back on how safe I felt in his arms.

The silver lining on today's cloud is the fact that I am still only a baby in the world. Twenty three years old and I was madly in love with my dream man for a few years, I learned so much, grew so much, and loved loved loved so much! If I can feel the amazing things that I felt with him when I was so young, I can feel it all again. I will fall in love again someday, all will be ok. Everything is going to be fine.

benirras

I love this island. It is so beautiful here, pine forests, dusty old roads leading to farmhouses and lemon trees growing out of bright red earth and everything is so full of amazing energy and life! The yoga retreat is amazing, with two villas (one is much more expensive and on the other side of the valley) and six pagodas and a calm, peaceful yoga deck to practice. It’s a very different life than I have been leading, just excepting things as they are, living as part of the universe and not needing much, not asking for anything. I do about three or four hours of work a day, five days a week, cleaning the kitchen or mopping the floors or helping make the dinners, whatever. Then it is off to the beach to lay out naked on the rocks around the corner, I have completely embraced this whole Spanish Hippie Culture! There are drummers on the beach most nights, and a massive drum party on Sundays at sunset with hundreds of people drumming and dancing and playing with fire pois. It’s a very special place and I am so fortunate to have found it. My life is on the mend, although still directionless I am not so lost anymore, this is a good place to heal a broken heart.

From the Coast of Barcelona

Its cherry season somewhere! Everywhere I turn there are piles of them, and for 3E a kilo I have been gorging myself.

I am exhausted, time is running together and my memory, which is normally unusually sharp, is hazy. So I went to Greece to do some work with a massive powerboat, and regretted it from the second that I took the job. When I got onboard in Monaco I was plunged headfirst into crazy drama, like the stew who was shagging the owner, cleaning coke baggies out of cabins used by hookers on the last charter, and the entire crew being wound so tight that I was actually told off for being too friendly. All in all, not the kind of environment I want to spend 24/7 in. Luckily though, it was only temporary work (I think I am really onto something there!) and I left Greece the day before yesterday. It’s a shame I didn’t get to see a bit more of Corfu before I flew out, but what I did see was beautiful. It’s the first country I have ever been to where I couldn’t even understand the alphabet! So for the last few nights I have been going out until late late late and I have been up before 5am every morning to rush to another airport or ferry terminal or train station and wait in more lines. It’s all worth it though, since I am on my way to Ibiza for a weeklong yoga retreat! Oh man I need this so badly, I am so excited! I get to stay in a tepee in a pine forest by the beach, be fed organic, vegetarian meals twice a day, breathe, meditate and practice yoga for hours all on a little island in the middle of the Med. This is it, for the last 7 weeks I have lived on mega yachts, getting no exercise whatsoever with a crew mess stocked full of chocolates and a chef cooking all my meals. This week in Ibiza will be my detox from that life, and my start of feeling good again!