In The Middle Of It

This morning at 8:00 A.M. a rental car company pulled up at Casa Del Ray, my new home here in Nosara to drop off a car so I could pick Dan up at the airport at eleven. I have been here almost one month on my own and the anticipation of seeing Dan and “feeling” Dan was killing me. Driving from Nosara is no simple feat. The roads are horrendous to say the least. The recent rains have been the worst in Guanacaste history with levels far beyond the norm and breaking many records. Robin, who owns an amazing café and makes the best homemade ice cream and sorbets in town, told me that these rains were going to have a major impact on the survival of the people living here because the crops cannot root in the saturated ground. There is going to be a famine here, she said. I witnessed first hand the result of the rains as I drove out of Nosara on my way to Liberia, an estimated two and one half hour drive away. The roads were muddy, washed out, and I had to navigate through at least four wayward rivers to get through. To be honest, I felt like a badass and fantasized about my driving prowess-a NASCAR future maybe?-it was like skiing moguls with a car. When I arrived at the airport Dan’s plane had just landed. I told him I had hired a driver to pick him up, not wanting him to know that I would be the one waiting there. I saw him coming through customs and watched him look all around at the waiting drivers, but he did not see me! I had to pull him out of the gauntlet of taxi drivers waiting to snag a needy tourist shouting “Me Esposo is here!” and dragging him into the parking lot where our rental car awaited. A sweet reunion. I drove, showing off my mad skills and after stopping for lunch at a cliff side soda (café), we landed in Nosara with plenty of time for re-acquaintance and napping before my gig at La Luna. At La Luna, the beautiful seaside restaurant, the atmosphere was very quiet after the full moon party held here the night before. With just a few tables of patrons, we played our music, Dan sitting in on a mellow sounding hand drum, adding a nice rhythm to the music. A lot of the songs I sang seemed to bring me to tears; Bonnie Raitts, Come to Me, The Beatles, Let it Be, I don’t even know what else, all I know is I had a serious problem keeping it together. Why all this emotion? When we got home we fixed plates of food prepared by La Luna’s staff and sat by the pool under a sky full of stars, afterwards swimming and sitting in the Jacuzzi. It’s late, we’re tired and questions can wait. Dan has put on some beautiful Costa Rican guitar music for me to listen to and he is now sleeping soundly in our bed. I know he needs it. The Gecko who lives behind the tapestries in this apartment is telling me to go to bed too.

Stepping Into the Void

Last night I had the pleasure of singing at Il Basillico, a restaurant in Esperanza, just outside of Nosara not far from the Nosara Yoga Institute. I was invited to join an Argentinean guitarist named Juan by the restaurants owner, Chandi, a young Costa Rican man from a family of restaurant people who own Giardino Tropical and Il Basillico. They have mastered the art of wood fired pizza and turn out the most amazing food in the most unpretentious of environments like paper thin Beef Carpaccio, house–made foccacia with marinated shrimp, mussels and calamari, huge plates of spaghetti and green salads with vine-ripe tomatoes, basil and perfectly toasted hunks of fresh baked bread. I agreed to sing that night for thirty dollars, red wine and food. Apparently Juan had done a great job spreading the word about the “happening” at Il Basillico that night and had invited other musicians, Carl, massage therapist, surfer and drummer from Florida and Schlomo, owner of the local organic market, to sit in on percussion and guitar. Never having played with any of them before and never singing half of the selections that evening, it was quite a free for all, but amazingly fun with moments of surprisingly good music. The funny thing about it is I had no anxiety, no second thoughts about performing, no second guessing my decision to say, “I’ll be there!”, something that happens to me a lot at home, especially when I find myself before a performance with little preparation and rehearsal and afterwards having had little or no fun. So there I was last night in front of at least a hundred people, a lot of them familiar, playing with musicians I never played with before and hardly knew, performing songs I didn’t know much less rehearse, having a blast. This morning at Zen Café, the conversation centered on “stepping into the void”. Mike, the husband of one of the yogis in training, (they graduated tonight!), told me that they were pretty sure they were going to relocate from Atlanta to Nosara. We talked about that feeling of “not knowing” regarding the future for his young family and the amount of faith it takes to make a move like that especially with young children and for me the mystery of my day to day life here with all this "space" and how difficult it is to take that first step. Later when I returned to my new nest, I received a message from Shelly, an old friend from high school who was keeping up with my posts. She herself was contemplating this very thing “embracing the unknown with strength and determination”- especially at a cross roads. She wisely stated “It can’t just happen wishing and praying if you don’t take the steps”. Taking the steps, even baby steps will get you where you want to go and if your not sure exactly where that is, step anyway. I spent the rest of the afternoon listening to the rain while I practiced the guitar and sang new songs.

Me Jane, You Tarzan

Yesterday I moved into my “final resting place” here in Nosara, Casa Del Ray. It is a fully equipped one bedroom efficiency beneath a large vacation rental home on a piece of lush jungle property overlooking the ocean. (By the way, it’s for sale) I have hot water, wi-fi, doors that close and even access to a washer and dryer. The infinity pool, Jacuzzi, outdoor kitchen and numerous outdoor showers are also available for me to use. There is a care taker on the premises daily in case I need anything and housekeeping service once a week. This is a far cry from my recent role as “Jane of the Jungle”. When I was a little girl my dad would gather all of his girls together on Friday night, there were five of us, to watch Johnny Weissmuller in “Tarzan”. My Dad an avid swimmer, ex boxer and totally fit man identified with Weissmuller who was a champion athlete and five time Olympic gold medalist before turning to acting and he enjoyed the jungle drama, feats of strength and power and subtle romance between Tarzan and Jane, just as much if not more than we young girls did. I loved it. I imagined what it would be like to live with Tarzan in the trees and I romanticized about the “wildness” of it all, swinging from the tree tops on vines to perfectly appointed platform tree houses, bathing in waterfalls, Tarzan’s body. The night would always end with my dad, demonstrating his strength to his five girls waiting in anticipation for him to carry us all at once, up the stairs and to bed, all of us laughing and hanging on to anything we could for dear life. For now, I’ll leave the swinging on the vines to the Howler Monkeys here and trade the waterfall for a hot shower, grateful that I finally have a place to rest my head that has four walls, a roof and no need for mosquito netting. And Tarzan? He’ll be flying in on Saturday from playing two concerts in West Palm Beach tonight and tomorrow.

Too Many Choices, Too Much Stuff

The Zen Café is the perfect place to hide away when it is raining and it has been raining everyday here now for as long as I can remember. There is usually a short window of sunshine each morning, but by 10:00 am the sky is cloud covered with rain alternating between a light mist and a torrential downpour. I am on my third umbrella since I arrived here in Nosara- I don’t even use an umbrella at home- and this current umbrella suffered a mishap last night causing the handle to break off in the middle. It still works, just a little awkward holding the skinny metal pole with no handle and a little frightening when there is lightning because I feel like a walking lighting rod. Yesterday at Zen, while the rain came down in sheets, between cups of coffee, matte, organic smoothies and tea, the conversation danced from alligators eating a horse crossing the river yesterday, the music of Fishbone and English Beat, life in the U.S., men who are a wreck and need a vision quest, to the most common topic of my trip thus far discussed by locals, travelers and aspiring locals alike- how life is hard in the U.S. because we have too many choices and too much stuff. I understand about the stuff. The older I get the more I crave the serene feeling of a minimalist environment. I think our home on the Outer Banks of North Carolina reflects this sentiment with just the right amount of furnishings, art and plenty of “surfaces”, but our garage is a complete contrast to the space above-it is packed full of stuff. I don’t even know what half of it is. Travelin’ light. I’ve met a lot of people who are completely ready to shed the skin of their lives in the United States and Canada- their jobs, big houses, cars, stuff. Mary, a Naturopath and therapist making the transition to full time living in Nosara, told me she will make less money, but she will have what she needs- nothing more, but maybe less at times. And what I’m hearing from some of the people that I’ve met here who are struggling with less, especially now in the challenging rainy season with little tourism, is that the struggle is what makes them feel alive. I get a sense of what that feels like. Having to walk everywhere, not having the convenience of hot water or a washer and dryer or even more luxurious items like the internet and a real grocery store has made me slow down and really think about what I’m doing, like making sure I hang my hand washed socks in the sun when it comes out! Choices are minimal and I can see how that can be appealing. It does seem easier. At home where to go for dinner is a tough choice. Here, most people can’t afford to go out and so they cook simple meals at home, beans, rice, fish and plantains. There is no movie theater; I’m the only live music in town, no ethnic restaurants, no library, and no bookstore. Not to mention the lack of services we take for granted at home like emergency medical care and animal clinics. Being a Libra, I think I am more apt to want a balance of sorts, an unencumbered life with not so much stuff so I can be free to move around without having to worry about it and at the same time have the kind of life that does afford choice- what to eat, music to listen to, theater, culture, books- these things are important to me and knowing that these choices exist for me in my life back home makes me feel very grateful. When I come home I plan on bringing some of the “simplicity” of this rustic living to my daily life there, I’ll walk/ride my bike more, eat simply, conserve, appreciate the richness of a life with choices and yes-surf.

When The Path Does Not Reveal Itself

One of my nicknames is Miss Results. It states the obvious-I’m the kind of person who is results oriented, tackling events, programs or projects with gusto, most of the time sure of what the outcomes will be even before I arrive there and if an idea for a project or something I start working on looks like it may not meet it’s goals, it doesn’t happen. I tried my best organizing my life like a project-making sure my children were well educated, home schooling them in elementary school when the schools didn’t meet their needs and private schools for Lucy, when she was having difficulties in high school. I researched the best camps, planned diverse adventures mapping everything out to make sure nothing was missed. My relationship with Dan didn’t necessarily receive the same attention, but to me the outcomes were clear; this is a solid marriage and nothing would change that. I was so stubborn in this belief that when things started changing with Dan, an affair was the last thing I would’ve guessed, I actually would’ve bet on it. When the realization hit me, I found myself in unfamiliar territory, in shock and scared to death. I tackled this dilemma like I do everything-devouring all the knowledge available in books, web-sites, counselors and therapists-after all, I’m Miss Results, I can fix this. I was battling blind and it took its toll on me physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. For the first time in my life I couldn’t solve this problem. I was lost. What do you do when the path does not reveal itself and you don’t know where to go? When I was looking for the path through the jungle on Sunday, I watched a runner ahead of me leap with agility in to the green. I watched, then followed and then eventually found the path on my own. Dealing with an affair is a unique experience. First of all, most people do want to hear about it much less talk about it and most therapists, although well meaning, have never experienced an affair. It wasn’t until I found someone, Anne Bercht, founder of Beyond Affairs Network, who had not only gone through the experience, but had come out on the other side with her marriage not only intact, but better, that I could see a tiny glimmer of light. I could relate to this. This was the path I wanted to take, so I followed her. Affairs are not so different from other crises of the self and according to statistics; a lot of us are experiencing them. Finding someone to talk to who can shed light on, empathize and really listen, understand and reassure you of the “normalcy” of what you are going through, regardless of what the situation is like seeing your location on the GPS screen after being lost for so long. It’s a relief. It is not a guarantee, however that the path will lead to your desired destination. One of the most valuable lessons I learned from my recent experience is that it really did not have anything to do with me. Anne says, “My husbands affair had nothing to do with me, if it did, I would’ve made sure it never happened!” We can’t control the actions of the people in our lives that we live and work with, but finding someone who has walked the path that you desire certainly helps us on our journey.

Indecision 2010

I woke up yesterday to rain. Feeling a little groggy from my late night Saturday, I moved slowly through my morning routine. As I was looking around I noticed that my flip-flops were missing. This might not seem like a big deal, but they are my only pair and there is no way to replace them here due to the size of my feet-11. I realized I must have left them at La Luna where I was singing the night before. I also realized that if I wanted to retrieve them I would have to go soon because I could only get there during low tide. Having only boots as my other footwear option, I donned my Dingos and hit the trail. Walking to La Luna is always an adventure. By road it is about three miles, but the beach and jungle path will get you there in 20 minutes. I attracted some funny looks, walking the beach in my boots without a horse, I just smiled, “Buena Dias!” At the very north end of the beach is a rocky point. The jungle spreads out to meet the sand and the shoreline is nothing but scraggy roots, piles of weathered wood and sand. At low tide you can climb all around the rocks and apparently the fishing is really good there. During high tide the rocks are completely covered with the water right up to the edge of the jungle. I approached the end of the beach as the tide was beginning to rise, but had plenty of time. I did have to leap over a small river and splashed down in ankle deep water. It really didn’t matter because the rain was coming down harder and I was pretty wet. The path does not reveal itself and if you don’t know where to go, it’s really hard to find. I saw a runner ahead of me jump the river and disappear into the trees. I fixed my eyes on where he entered and headed that way. Aha, I know this way, it’s definitely shorter than the path I had been taking which took me all around the Hotel De Nosara, the abandoned Middle Eastern style castle perched on the top of the point. This path goes right in front of the hotel and leaves you on the dirt road to “Downtown Pelada”. La Luna is a stones throw from the end of the path and I arrived to see two tables overlooking the sea, both seated with friends of mine looking like they were fresh out of the surf and enjoying what appeared to be frozen tropical fruit drinks while watching the rain come down. Gerardo, La Luna’s manager held out my flip flops, thank the lord, and gave me a bottle of water. I visited with my friends and then not wanting to get caught in too much high water, decided to walk the road home. Pelada is adjacent to Guiones and apparently has some pretty good property deals. There is a market-Pancho’s, a coffee house with internet, Olga’s right on the beach that serves tipico food where you can sit and watch the fishing boats come in and a few other businesses. It’s pretty rustic and if you don’t need much and don’t mind being away from most of the “action” Pelada is a good place to finds deals. Soaking wet by this point I trudged through the little business district saying, ”hola” to locals with their arms full of groceries, huddled under umbrellas, just off the bus from town. On the main road it wasn’t long before Bill my guitarist pulled up coincidentally, I jumped in and headed home. The rain kept getting heavier and heavier with lightning and thunder joining in. I noticed my mood getting heavier as well and decided a nap was in order. Hours later, I had a hard time getting out of my comfy nest under the netting with the storm still raging outside, but I had to sing tonight, even though I knew with the rain we may be cancelled. Wearing my flip flops I splashed trough puddles and mud to arrive at Casa Tucan only to find that we were indeed rained out. Waking this morning to more rain, my mood still heavy, I went to a Pilate’s class, my first and tried to enjoy the hour of torture- It was hard. Alli is the local instructor here who has converted much of the yogi community to Pilates and by look of some of the bodies I’m seeing around here, I might have to give it a try. Afterwards I walked around lost in my thoughts, the U2 song, I Still Haven’t Found What I’m Looking For, playing in my mind and I decided I was going to try to change my ticket and come home. Unfortunately, or fortunately I can’t. There is no flexibility with my ticket since I booked it with frequent flyer miles and the next available flight anyway is August 11th. Okay, plan A it is and with nothing else to do, the rain ending, I grabbed a board from Luigi and went surfing. I talked to my son briefly tonight; He had overheard some of the conversation between Dan and I and told me he always experienced a period of being uncomfortable on his travels-he’s traveled extensively in Italy and New Zealand and is quite an adventurer-“It’s good sign”, like Lenore, Josh said, “Things are happening”. Yes, things are happening. No more indecision for me. It’s out of my hands.

Annexation Celebration

Nosara is not without memories for me, this is the fourth time that I’ve returned to this village on the Guanacaste Peninsula .The first time we came here for a family Christmas. We rented a house, “Casa Frisbee” from Harbor Reef, a wonderful hotel and property management company and filled it with the four of us, two friends of Josh and Lucy’s, Dan’s sister and her two kids and our good friends Kellie and Trish the Dish. Nosara is a wonderful place for a family holiday or getaway. There is just the right combination of relaxation and adventure for people like us who love the beach, nature and other cultures and don’t mind “roughing it” a little with the absence of cable, sometimes no air conditioning and other perceived necessities. We’ve had two Christmases here, a dear friends 60th birthday and I’ve come one other time with my daughter Lucy to sing and work. Tonight I found myself at the Tropicana Disco Bar, a rustic open air dance hall in the heart of downtown Nosara. Dressed to kill in my new Krel Wear dress, watching dancers move to urban Latin mixes against black lighting and flashing disco lights, I looked around noticing the entire place was decorated with stalks of corn, primitive torch lighting, altars with coconuts and other Costa Rican symbols. We were celebrating Guanacaste Day. Guanacaste Day is a Costa Rican holiday celebrating Costa Rica's annexation of Guanacaste province from Nicaragua in 1824. The celebration of Guanacaste Day and its importance to Costa Rica reflects Costa Rican culture. Costa Ricans value family, education, democracy, peace and machismo. Apparently Costa Rica provided this value base, where Nicaragua could not. Good reasons to celebrate. The last time I was here at the Tropicana was New Years Eve, five months after the disclosure of Dan’s affair. In the midst of all the pain and heartache we put forth our best efforts to come together with family and friends for our Costa Rican holiday. Dan had given me a ring that Christmas, a “promise ring” signifying his intention to work his way back to the center of our relationship-our marriage. It was uncharacteristic at that time for Dan to give me such a sentimental gift- it meant a lot. Sitting here tonight I can see exactly where Dan and I were holding each other on the dance floor minutes before the dawn of the New Year, 2007, the huge net of balloons bulging above our heads, everyone around us dancing and smiling. “Feliz Ano Nuevo!” Happy New Year. Our eyes locked and we had our first kiss of the New Year. It was so intense, passionate and for me, so full of hope. Sitting here all the feelings came rushing back. It will be another year after that New Years Eve before Dan officially “annexes” from his troubles and joins the province of our relationship, our marriage, our home-me. Looking around at everyone celebrating Guanacaste’s permanent union with Costa Rica, I am hoping for a future celebration of my own to mark, or I should say “re-mark” this new permanence.

Things Are Moving

Today I woke up feeling a little blue. I was upset because I had gotten an email from Dan that was a little short. I had wanted to touch base with him yesterday on a few things and we just couldn’t connect. I wrote him that I was “bummed” about it and his reply was that “he couldn’t stay at his computer all day”. It was just one little sentence, but somehow it really rubbed me the wrong way. Not only that, but my email also included a list of things I wanted him to bring and some other news, but his response did not acknowledge any of that and then no good night email or good morning email. So this morning after sleeping late and having slightly disturbing dream I woke up and had my tea, read my book for a little bit, then headed for the Zen Café. I’ve been going to the Zen Café everyday to check my email. It is a small spot with only three tables and a futon, lounge section with low tables and bean bag chairs. They serve great coffee and smoothies and the best pita sandwiches I’ve had in a long time; homemade hummus, pesto, fresh mozzarella, leafy baby greens, tahini and sprouts. Everything is made there even the nut butters and almond milk and it’s all organic. It reminds me of a modern Darwin’s, our beloved vegetarian spot in Manteo years ago, complete with all the same locals coming in every day. I greeted Gabby, one of my yoga instructors who works there and took my usual spot at the table by the door and ordered a coffee. I checked my email and noticed nothing from Dan and immediately started getting emotional. “What is this? Am I lonely? What’s the big deal?” I ended up reading some old email correspondence between the two of us. I thought it would be interesting to see an email from exactly one year ago and pulled it up and I found this from Dan.” We have had our ups and lately downs but the hard times for me I think are times of nothingness. The times that life is just going and not much happens. I guess that feeling got to me….” He was saying to me that in that space of nothing happening, boredom, he was the most vulnerable. I feel like I’m actually in a “time of nothingness” right now and it seems to be a bit of a challenge for me. Isn’t this where the good stuff is supposed to come from? I asked for space and now that I have it I’m going to get upset about not getting an email? About “nothing” happening? Am I just so over stimulated that I need constant action? Granted, there are other things at play here-hormones- and yes, I think I am a little lonely. A message popped up on my screen that Dan was calling on Skype. I answered and Dan asked me how I was and I started crying, “I’m having a bad day”. We talked for almost an hour, with my sister-in law, Diane getting on the phone and my son Joshua as well and by the time the call was ending I felt worlds better. I left Zen and walked across the street to Mandolina, a dress shop opened by my friend Nina, who is from Miami and now here permanently. She exudes the beautiful spirit of Pura Vida, totally high on her life here, her business, learning how to surf, and her friends. A good friend of hers from Miami, an up and coming clothing designer, Karelle was here in town to help with the grand opening of Mandolina and to create “Quickie Couture” custom made garments created for your body right on the spot in about twenty minutes. I planned to go to the attunement class with Lenore at three- I thought I could use a “tune-up”, but I had time to participate in a little retail therapy. I needed it. Having Karelle drape and pin fabric on me with me telling her, higher (hemline), lower (cleavage and back) was something I’ve never done before. She calls it a collaborative design and no two are ever alike. She stitched it together and I tried it on. Lower, here, higher there, it took three tries before It came out perfect. The tiny store was full of women trying things on, picking out fabric, snapping photos and admiring one another, the men outside the sliding glass door sneaking glances while drinking rum and gingers. Lenore, the mediation teacher walked in the door. I guess I was late for class. She told me no one had come today so she came here to see what was going on. I told here how the session I had with her really affected me and told her about the tears, rain and flooding. I said I really wanted to come today because I was feeling quite emotional. She looked at me and said, “That’s good that you are emotional. It means that things are moving.”

Wave of the Day

I met a family from Charleston, NC who were having a hard time adjusting to life in Nosara. They arrived in the dark over extremely bumpy roads scared to death and after waking in the morning and checking out the village, they didn’t feel much better. “We’re spoiled”, the mom said. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that or what that really meant exactly, I mean, last night I tripped and fell into a muddy hole on the road and I haven’t had one hot shower in twenty one days, but I feel pretty spoiled myself! I made some small talk and went back to my writing. Her son approached, he looked to be about nineteen or twenty and I asked him if he went surfing today. He said, “Yeah”. I asked him smiling, “Did you get worked?” He replied, “It’s just so far to paddle out to the waves. I’m used to the east coast where the waves are right there.” He wasn’t into it. I wanted to say, “But if you paddle out, chances are you are going to ride waves much bigger and more consistent than on the east coast. The waves are good here practically every single day!” They’re just harder to get to. For me the most difficult journeys, the hardest challenges have led me to the greatest rewards. For some fear can be a big reason not to engage in a difficult challenge, and fear comes in all shapes and sizes-tangible and invisible, “It’s too hard, I might get hurt, I’m not going to make it, so-and so tells me I can’t do it, I don’t deserve it”. Maybe it’s not fear, maybe it’s apathy or indifference, “I don’t have to, I’m not going to try that, It’s much easier, less hassle doing it this way, I'm comfortable right here, It’s not worth it, It’s not going to happen anyway, I don't want to make waves, why should I?” Maybe it’s complete ignorance to any kind of challenge at all. As I sit here on the beach watching a group of people learning how to surf in the shore break- grown men way past 40 and a group of young women- I admire the tenacity of these budding surfers-the willingness to get up again and again and again after falling. I looked past them on the “outside” break and see poetry in motion, seasoned wave riders becoming one with the perfectly formed walls of water. Perhaps these learners in front of me will one day achieve what the surfers on the big waves make look so effortless. Maybe they won’t- but how will they know if they don’t try? I feel sorry for the young man pining for east coast waves. Didn’t he know how much stronger he would be after paddling out to these waves, unique to this place, every day? In my struggle to find balance in a marriage that was in crisis there were many times when I wanted to give up, to heed the advice of almost everyone close to me to “draw the line in the sand, give up and throw in the towel”. It was hard to be so vulnerable and broken hearted for so long. I’m pretty sure the easiest thing to do at that time would have been to cut and run. We had money at that time, property; a lawyer said I would probably receive alimony. I didn’t doubt my ability to find another man. But I knew the value of what I had in my relationship with Dan, our life together, our family and I was determined to ride this wave until it reached the shore. It was scary. I did not know where I was headed for along time. My reward is that I am still married to a man I’ve loved for over 26 years, my children are direct witnesses to this love, this relationship that is like real life, messy and hard, challenging and frustrating and at the same time wonderful and exciting, fun and adventurous. Talking with my friend Ali about this tonight she said every day there is a wave, some sort of challenge large or very small. She wisely added, you don’t even have to ride it if you don’t want to, just notice it and honor it. We continued talking about it and I wondered about just looking at a problem or conflict and not doing anything about it. Ali said, you have to at least get in the water and test it out and then hopefully make a wise choice whether to ride the wave or not. Now I’m going to look at the days challenges as the “wave of the day”! What’s your “wave of the day?”

Wherever You Are Looking That's Where You're Going

Yesterday after my amazing Prannassage with Francella, I took a surfing lesson with my friend Elissa, a young mother and photographer from San Francisco. We hired Luigi from Nosara Tico Surf School. I wanted to support him because he is my guitar player Bill’s brother-in-law but also, he owns his own business and is one of only a few Tico owned surf schools in Nosara. Luigi is about 5’4 with a completely lean surfer’s body from surfing and teaching surfing everyday. with beautiful brown skin and kind brown eyes. It was three in the afternoon with the sun still high in the sky moving in and out of clouds, the water clear and warm. I had taken a surfing lesson once before in Nosara, but there was something about the way Luigi taught that was quite different from my first lesson. He was a really good teacher. He had a natural ability to impart his wisdom to us, but was also very sensitive to our surroundings and to us. He talked about the tides, the wind, made drawings in the sand depicting inside waves and outside waves, told how to walk into the ocean (something I thought I knew) by shuffling our feet, not stepping directly down to avoid stepping on a stingray, told us when the best times to surf for beginners like us. After practicing in the sand and finding out where the “sweet spot” on our boards was located, we were in. Nosara is such a great place for beginner surfers because you can actually learn to surf inside the break and catch some pretty good waves. It’s great for families with varying degrees of ability and of course, for people like me with no ability whatsoever! I had to say, my daily yoga practice with all the Chataranga’s (yoga push-ups) have really paid off-I can pop right up on the board- I just can’t stay up. Two hours of practice and I stood up on a wave for maybe 15 seconds! Luigi was encouraging and let me know he would hook me up with boards for next to nothing if I just want to go out for an hour or so. He also left us with these words of surfer wisdom. “Wherever you are looking, that’s where you’re going to go”. I feel like I’m not looking in one direction right now. My frustration over housing has caused me to start considering cutting my trip short and coming home. Wantana said to me today, “You just need to accept things, there is always going to be something better, she said people always want more, more, more. This is just Costa Rica”. I don’t know, I understand the grass is always greener mentality, but I don’t think that’s me right now. I just want privacy, safety and comfort. If I can’t find that here, I’ll just come home. So today I spent the morning looking at my options, most of them not working out. There was a two bedroom condo in my price range, but when I went by to look at it, I felt uncomfortable. This was my only option so far. “Follow the signs”. I ducked out of the rain and went online and looked at my flight itinerary, which I can change by phone only. I noticed an email from D-Ray, a local musician with an apartment on his property. He wrote that it was available, but $400 over my budget. I thanked him and declined and told him why. He promptly responded and said he’d take what I had; did I want to look at it? I met him on the road and jumped in his golf cart. His home is in the hills behind the Nosara Yoga Institute and a little farther away from town, but in a safe, primarily residential area. The apartment is perfect and the property gorgeous. The apartment is one bedroom with a nice kitchen and living area, wi-fi (yeah!) and all the essentials. I have full use of the property which includes a huge pool with comfy lounge chairs, jacuzzi, outdoor kitchen all with an ocean view. Okay. I’m looking at Nosara 100% now and it feels like this is where I should be, where I am headed for the next month. I rewarded myself with another surf session, board compliments of Luigi, and got up on my first wave.

Appreciation and Empowerment

Last night before my singing gig at the Gilded Iguana I went to the Harmony Hotel to meet Elaine, the young school teacher from California, to walk with her to the Iguana. The Harmony Hotel is a beautifully renovated hotel right in the middle of Guiones Beach that looks and feels like it could be in the heart of South Beach, Miami. The single story hotel, cabinas, pool and all of the other out buildings are all nestled in lush, private gardens and trees. Tranquillo. The open air bar and restaurant is furnished with modern interpretations of Costa Rican furniture, comfy lounge and rocking chairs, long rattan couches with loads of pillows. I like to go there for a mojito or a glass of wine, take advantage of the free wi-fi and relaxing environment. While I was waiting for Elaine I ran into Lalane and her twin boys. They come back and forth between their home in the U.S. and Nosara as much as they can, last year spending the entire year here with the kids going to local schools and becoming fluent in Spanish. They were not happy about leaving. We chatted a bit and I told her how I was feeling like I was trying to get over a “hump”, transitioning from visiting here to really feeling like I am here. Lalane said, “There is a transition period of difficulties when you first get here-and then when you get over it- you become empowered here. This place empowers you. You can become another person.” This morning it was sunny with bright white clouds traveling on the breeze through crystal blue skies. I debated whether or not I should go to yoga or hit the beach to take advantage of the sunshine-my feet propelled me towards the Institute, while my mind said, “Even if you don’t feel like going, go- it’s good for you”. Arriving early I settled down on two meditation cushions and wrote in my journal. Soon Francella arrived, one of my new friends and yoga instructor. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever met, inside and out. When it became apparent that we were going to be the only ones practicing today- a first since I arrived here-Francella said, “We will do Prannassage” and started laying down yoga mats into a big square in two layers laying my sarong on top and asking me to lie on my back. Prannassage is a creative synthesis of yoga and bodywork that increases the flow of prana or life force in the body and produces deep states of relaxation. The receiver's body is physically moved into a flow of poses that allow each position to be felt from the inside out. With my eyes closed Francella used her entire body to stretch out mine. I couldn’t tell the difference between her hands and feet and at one point I curled into a ball and rocked back into her arms and found myself completely lifted off the ground and cradled in her body. The sensation was so unique- when was the last time someone held my entire body while I relaxed, breathed and surrendered? The session ended with a chakra meditation. “This was meant to be” Francella said. We talked for a short while and I told her about Lalane’s comments and asked her if she thought Nosara was an “empowering place”. Francella said she has grown and changed so much since moving to Nosara, she talked about the people, all the yogis, nature lovers, surfers, but the number one reason she feels that Nosara is an empowering place is appreciation. She told me that in all the places she’s ever lived she has never felt more appreciated than she does here and that in turn has empowered her, enabled her to become a bi-lingual yogi, a massage/Prannassage therapist and future Pilates instructor. The appreciation from others who live here in Nosara has empowered her to say, “Yes, I can do this”. I know what she means. Not long after I arrived here someone said to me, “we are so blessed to have you here”. That brings tears to my eyes. It is such a simple statement that we all could make everyday to all of the people we interact with at work, in our families and community. What if we took a time out in our day and looked at the people around us and appreciated them for whatever they were doing? And not just appreciation for accomplishments, but for our efforts and ideas even if they never come to fruition. What a simple concept; appreciation as a means to empowerment. Yes, perhaps Nosara is a special place, a place of empowerment, but I bet my home town community can be too.

The Signs Along The Way

Last night while I was sitting on the porch having “happy hour” I realized that I wasn’t feeling too happy. I noticed an uncomfortable feeling coming over me and as I listened to Wantana talk I realized that I was not even close to being present. I was thinking that I hadn’t even begun writing yet today, I was thinking that I hadn’t picked up the guitar now in two days, and I had a goal to sit in on my friends gig Thursday and play and sing a song, I was thinking that my “space” was starting to feel smaller when I was “home”. I was beginning to realize that perhaps this is not where I should be. I am so grateful that Wantana took me in after being flooded out of my initial place of residence, but I didn’t really have a choice about coming here, it all happened so fast. I woke up late this morning and came down out of my perch to have tea and wake up. When Wantana came up with fruit and sat down, my discomfort returned so I excused myself and within ten minutes I quickly dressed for yoga and was headed out the door. On my walk to the Institute I thought about my needs- my need for quiet, my need for privacy, my need to flow through the rhythm of my day in my own way without having to consider anyone else right now. This is hard for me. I’ve never had this much time for myself before and I struggle with the feelings that this is self-indulgent, that I need to be doing something productive, something tangible. I also feel a little uncomfortable with all this time, a little antsy. I tried to quiet my mind during yoga practice and finally got into a groove, letting go, letting my mind wander, breathing, looking at the jungle and the coming rain. I thought about coming home. Come August I will have been here a whole month, surely that is enough time. I thought of all the things I could do at home, visit my grandmother, ride my bike to Ocracoke. I stopped myself. I feel pretty strong about my commitment to being here, the commitment I made to myself-for myself. I thought maybe this is a “hump” in the middle of the road, a transitional period. I need to be patient, follow my instincts and keep moving forward. So, what I absolutely do know for certain is I need a new home, my own place, with my own kitchen within walking distance to everything. This afternoon after walking around town and visiting friends and talking to people, I have several good options. I am not looking forward to breaking that news. It’s interesting because had I been a better Girl Scout before I arrived here, I would’ve taken stock of my needs, real and anticipated and used them as a basis for communicating to people managing and renting property. I was careless and so here I am week three, not entirely settled. Why is it so hard to say, “I need”? Actually, it has been getting easier for me to say, “I need”. Dan and I have been putting a lot of effort into our relationship and being able to communicate our needs to each other without fear has been one of the most important lessons learned. For me it’s about taking the time to really think about what I need- to feel, to feel deeply- what my needs are. My life is usually sailing by at such a fast pace that for me for the most part I don’t have a clue what I need on a daily basis. But I am working on it and learning to honor myself, consider my needs important, not just for my sake but for the sake of all of my relationships. I’m learning to be flexible and to make adjustments when needed-learning to follow the signs along the way.

Another Day In Paradise

I woke up to the sound of heavy rain this morning and went back to sleep and dream, finally forcing myself to get out of bed and start the day around 9:00. I made tea and sat on the porch reading my book, Three Cups of Tea, the story of Greg Mortenson, a mountain climber who has devoted his life to building schools and educating the children of rural Pakistan and Afghanistan with the idea that educating these young people, especially girls, is a more effective means to fight terrorism than war. The rain was so heavy that I was not going anywhere so I made a second cup of tea and finished the book. I had an appointment to meet Nacho at 12:30 to go fishing on the rocks of Guiones Beach at low tide. Nacho makes my pizza every Sunday night at Casa Tucan and is becoming my friend. We can´t really understand each other very well, but we laught a lot. Getting ready to venture out into the world for the day has become a bit of an ordeal for me. I am not a detail person. I am good at big picture stuff, grand ideas and the steps needed to take to realize them, but when it comes to details I prefer to collaborate with detail oriented people to make things happen and I have done this often with much success. Here I have only myself to rely on and have figured out quite quickly what it takes for me to get through a day- I have to think like a Girl Scout. I was a Girl Scout as a young girl, but I can not for the life of me think of anything useful from that experience except for making s´mores. What I do remember was being the one who stirred up all the trouble at camp and getting into fights with other Girl Scouts who messed with my little sisters- I have four of them. Oh, and there´s the cookies. Even so, I have an idea of how a good Girl Scout thinks and I also have valuable knowledge from three of my other childhood influences, Nancy Drew, Harriet the Spy and Pippi Longstocking. This morning I climbed the spiral staircase leading to my attic hideaway. I enter through a trap door that I have to lift with my back until it is open enough for me to lift up and secure with a hook. I have to keep my head very low or I´ll hit it on the ceiling of the porch, something I´ve done several times. Once I´m through though, my space is open, airy and quite comfortable. I begin to get ready for my day by placing my backpack on a chair and emptying the contents from my singing gig the night before, CD´s, music book and stand light. Everything revolves around my backpack. For the day I need my laptop a. because it is not 100% secure here and b. I never know if I will have an opportunity or a need to get online. I have to wrap it in a plastic bag before placing it inside and with it goes an umbrella, sunscreen, a sarong to use as a towel or a beach blanket, yoga clothes if I´m not wearing them, a dress or something easy to throw on, money (in a plastic bag), bottle of water, flashlight, journal and a pen ( in a plastic bag). After all of this is packed the entire backpack is housed in a heavy duty garbage bag with two holes in the back for the straps to come through. Before leaving I turn off the fans and lights and climb through the trap door, resting it on my back as I gradually lower it into place. No food or crumbs can be left on the counter or anywhere because of bugs, ants and who knows what else. With everything secure, I´m free to go! As I ventured out today the rain had dissipated, but was still a constant drizzle. I was wearing my bikini with my sarong tied around me, but I still wasn´t too thrilled about hanging out on the beach fishing in the rain. I walked down the beach and since I was a little early I decided to take shelter in a local spot to wait out the rain and catch up on my email. By the time the rain stopped and I reached the rocky beach where Nacho was going to meet me, he had already gone. I thought maybe he would just start fishing, but I have a feeling it was more about me than fishing so I wandered around the rocks and tide pools looking at all the tiny life thriving there, amazed at the intricate patterns the strong water and currents have etched into the stone. I walked south along the beach. It was low tide so there were not too many surfers out there, but there were people taking surf lessons, families with small children, a lot of walkers and runners because the sand is so flat, wide and hard and there is an abundance of shells and huge sand dollars. I ran into a woman who had been in my attunement class last Sunday who had felt ¨teary¨ like me. Her name is Elissa and she and her husband Dan are from San Francisco. They have three children and since they are self-employed, they decided to take the family on a month long Costa Rican adventure. I laid my sarong out on the sand and sat down for awhile. While Elissa played in the water with her daughters, her three year old son came up to me with his hand outstretched and said, ¨Will you take me in?¨. After racing and playing in the water and taking a couple of family photographs for them, I shook out my sarong, exchanged it for a sundress and set out for yoga. There is an outdoor shower at the Insitute and I take advantage of it everytime I come there because I am always, muddy, sandy, sweaty or all of the above. I have yet to take a hot shower since my arrival over two weeks ago. Today´s practice was lead by Monika, a young, gorgeous woman from Mexico City who has made Nosara her home. Several familiar faces were in the class, a young woman from California in her second year as a 4th grade teacher and a young yogi from Boston who had dropped out of yoga teacher training here, but was staying on in Nosara and continuing her practice. Afterwards I walked the long way home to go to the other ¨mini-super¨- it has a better wine selection- purchased some supplies and went home where Wantana and I settled in for our ¨happy hour¨ to drink a glasss of wine, eat a few snacks and trade stories. Looking back on the day, I can say that today, especially, I´m feeling the ¨space¨. Once I attend to the small details necessary to have a productive and spontaneous day there is not much left for me to do except let the day unfold as it will. If it pours rain, there is nothing I can do about it, but I´m ready for it. If the sun peeks out it is minutes to the beach from most everywhere, and I´m ready for it. And the people, the sights, the sounds and smells are all a part of someone elses big picture and all I can do is take it all in and be grateful for another day in paradise.

Feelin' Good

I sing a song by Nina Simone called, “Feelin’ Good”. It is a simple song, not musically complicated, but the combination of chords, melody and especially the lyrics set this song apart from other blues songs in my opinion. The more times I travel around the sun the more important the lyrics to the songs I sing have become to me. The words need to resonate deep inside me before I will send them through my vocal chords and out into listening ears. This morning when I woke up I saw that the sun was shining. I knew it would be because on my walk home last night the sky was crystal clear with huge bright stars. “It’s going to be sunny tomorrow!” I sang as I skipped home. So even though I knew that the sun would be shining, it was a welcome sight after two mornings of rain. I made my tea and quietly settled into a rocker on the porch. Usually at home when I wake up I am in such a rush to get ready for work, make the 45 minute drive and hopefully arrive on time, that I rarely have time to transition from sleeping and dreaming to waking up to a new day. Today as I sat I just gazed all around me-my sight line almost to the tops of the banana trees-and marveled at the lush green life. Exotic blue birds with funny antennas coming out of the tops of their heads and long tail feathers like a pheasants flew and perched all around me. Two tiny brown birds with massive singing voices flew in pairs and transformed sticks into an undisclosed nest, huge moths bigger than my hand flew over my head. I started thinking about the words to the Nina Simone song, “Feelin’ Good”. “Birds flyin’ high, you know how I feel, sun in the sky, you know how I feel, breeze driftin’ on by, you know how I feel. It’s a new dawn and a new day and a new life for me and I’m feelin’ good”. A new life for me! What a wonderful way to look at a new dawn, a new day. I often hear the expression, “tomorrow’s another day”, but how about tomorrow’s another life? An opportunity to take stock of my life and change anything that “does not serve me”, as my yogi friend Michelle would say. The song continues on reflecting on how nature knows what the singer is talking about when she/he says, “And I’m feeling good”. The birds, the trees, the breeze, the scent of the pine all know because they are doing exactly what they were created to do-nothing more, nothing less- and it was totally apparent to me this morning as I watched the birds, the palms swaying, the monkeys picking berries in the tree tops. How do I know what I was created to do? The last line of the song says, “Freedom is mine and I know how I feel”. When I’m feeling good inside-feeling free and totally aware of that feeling- I think that I am on the right path. If I’m not feeling good-or free inside then something needs to change and if I can not change it then I must accept it. I can’t change the fact that my husband had an affair, but I can change the way I feel about it. I can honor the lessons, honor all the goodness that exists in him and use that knowledge to forge a new and deeper relationship with him and myself. And for the most part, it feels pretty good. I am finding that this experience is serving me and my life. It’s easier said than done, I know, but if I could just wake up everyday like today and live my life like a blank canvas waiting for me to create whatever I choose, then like today, I have a pretty good chance of “Feelin’ Good”.

Body Wisdom

Since arriving in Nosara, Costa Rica, I’ve been going to the Nosara Yoga Institute for daily yoga practice. The institute sits on a pristine piece of jungle property that houses a large enclosed rancho for teacher training, an open air tree top pavilion over looking lush jungle and with a faint view of the sea over the tree tops for daily classes, apartments for visiting yogis and lush gardens and pathways everywhere. Lately my singing responsibilities have decreased due to the constant rain so my yoga practice is the only structure in my day to day life here. Four years ago in the middle of a difficult time in my life, yoga was the only thing I had in my life that gave me any solace. I practiced diligently for over a year until I noticed an ad for teacher training in Raleigh, North Carolina. It was January and I was living alone with our daughter Lucy in Carrboro, North Carolina looking at the winter before me with little enthusiasm. I decided to enroll in the training. At first I immersed myself and absorbed all of the teachings and energy like a sponge. I was the oldest and probably the most physically challenged student due to the fact that I had undergone hip replacement on my left hip six months before. At the same time I was devoting myself to yoga, my marriage continued to deteriorate, my husband unable to align his words with his actions and since it was my decision to stay in it and wait it out, I found myself living with more stress than I could have ever imagined. Even though yoga helped me to connect with an extreme amount of gratitude for all of the blessings in my life, I found that it sometimes made me feel more vulnerable. Halfway through the training we had a weekend off so I went home to spend the weekend on the Outer Banks. During a massage my therapist commented on my tight piriformis muscle and went to work on it. Two days later I found myself incapacitated with an extremely painful case of sciatica on my right side. If you’ve never had sciatica, give thanks- sciatic pain is so deep and so acute there is virtually nothing you can do to relieve it- it renders you in constant pain, uncomfortable and totally helpless. I was devastated. My yoga training and my beloved daily practice ended abruptly and completely. Did my body really need to try to trump the pain of my broken heart? Couldn’t I just have one pain at a time, thank you very much? It seemed so unfair, all I could do was sit, or lay down with my pain that remained debilitating for months and never really going away completely. I am thinking about this today because that old familiar pain has resurfaced, just a little bit, but enough to make me uncomfortable during my practice, enough for me to ask. “Should I be doing this?” and “What are you trying to tell me, pain?” I vacillate between believing that pain in the body is just that- pain as a result of working it too hard, over exertion, not listening and pain representing unconscious messages that are letting us know that we are off track, we have repressed emotions and feelings, unresolved issues. Hopefully, it will just work itself out without too much energy and attention. In the meantime I will listen and honor the wisdom of this body that has taken me this far.

Essence as Opposed to Form

Last night was the first time since I arrived here in Nosara that I had an opportunity to ¨go out on the town¨ and socialize with some of the local women living here. Wantana had been asked to prepare some food- she is an amazing cook- for a small gathering of women hosted by a woman named Ali, a local pilates guru living and teaching here. All afternoon I helped Wantana prepare food, asian mung bean salad, vietnamese spring rolls and dipping sauces. Her tiny kitchen in the bottom level of her home is stocked with exotic spices, herbs and strange concoctions made by her stored in recycled glass bottles and jars. An alchemist´s space. We arrived at the home where Ali was house sitting- a big modern, concrete rectangle perched on a hillside, an infinity pool running the entire length of the house. It was a small gathering of about seven or eight women who all had somehow found their way to Nosara. Between us there was a women´s magazine publisher from Vancouver, a retired boxer from New Mexico, and entrepeneur from Thailand, a yogi from Nicaraugua, a former disco roller girl-professional make-up artists from NYC, myself and Ali, the pilates instructor and our hostess for the evening. Everyone but me had staked some sort of permanent claim here- Ali telling me she didn´t think twice about moving here after her first visit. ¨It´s paradise¨ she said. ¨I had no idea a year ago that I would be living in a place like this realizing my dreams¨. The young yogi, Francella, recently engaged to a young man from Asheville, NC said, ¨I love it here. I can live simply in beauty teaching yoga and surfing- and it´s warm!¨ I shared my story with Becca, the women´s magazine publisher from Vancouver. When I was telling her that I was in Nosara because it was the answer for my plea for ¨space¨, she told me about her theory, ¨Essence as Opposed to Form¨. I thought about her words all day long and realized that my asking for space was exactly what she was talking about. I did not ask for two months in Costa Rica, or a week alone somewhere exotic, or a break from my career, I asked for space. I remember saying to Dan, quite frustrated,¨ I don´t know what that means or what it looks like¨, but I had an idea about how it might feel, or how I might feel within that space. The essence of what I was asking for. Then several weeks later, I recieve the email asking me to come to Nosara. That´s powerful stuff. Yes, I have questions that I was hoping to find answers for here, but more importanly this time is givïng me the space to contemplate the essence of how I want to feel, how I want to live and move through this world. When I think about things in this way it seems so much easier. Of course faith has a big part to play here. If I can not trust, that by sending out my energy and intention out into the universe my questions will be answered and my path made clear, then this isn´t going to work. How do I cultivate this faith? Well, I´m seeing it working in my life already. I´m here in Nosara.

A Laugh and A Smile ( It´s a Jungle Out There)

I believe things here have shifted, taken a turn in some other new direction. The rythym of Wantana´s home is full of nurturing rituals, like meals every day for Juan and Louis, the Ticos that are working on her property, which invariably extend to me, coffee and tea in the morning on the wrap around porch and an end of the day dip in the pool and glass of wine, our ¨happy hour¨. This morning I was greeted me with clear blue skies and a bright sun- could this be the second day in a row with no rain? After a good phone conversation with Dan, an introductory session with my guitar, some tea and a mango, I dressed in my usual layers, bikini, yoga clothes and sunglasses and began my walk to the Nosara Yoga Institute. When the sun is shining everyone is outside walking to and from morning errands and to the beach. Everyone smiles and says ¨Hola!¨. Even the drivers of the trucks and cars navigating the washed out roads wave and beep. Rounding the corner approaching the business district where a smattering of businesses have sprouted where the road from the beach meets the main road through town, I did a mental inventory of where I wanted to hang the flyers I made advertising my gig on Friday. There was Cafe D´Paris, a new mini super, Coconut Harry´s, a few gift shops, a new ¨Zen¨ Cafe and even a tattoo parlor. Getting closer I spied one of the security guards that are posted all around Guiones due to recent thefts. This particular guard also stands watch at my beach and has decided that we are meant for each other. He points to himself and then to me, shakes his head and points to his eye and then to me, places his hand over his heart and rolls his eyes. It´s not as elaborate as the male bird of paradise mating dance, but it´s pretty close. It was when he invaded my personal space, a small beach blanket tucked under a scrubby bush on Guiones Beach, that I rose to protest. ¨Me Esposo!¨ I stated, pointing to my rings. He grinned at me and I could see that he was missing his front teeth. I smiled back, pointing to the sea- ¨Buena, Si?¨. This became a ritual for a few days until finally I just had to ignore him. This morning as I was passing by, he said something to me that I couldn´t understand, I just smiled and said,¨Buenas Dias!¨ and walked on. I´ve had several ¨strange encounters of the male kind¨ since I arrived here, my first full day here I ran into a local man who worked at the restaurant I sang at the night before. He spoke very good english and seemed kind and intelligent. I was happy to talk to someone. He asked me if I was married and I said yes and told him a little about Dan. After leaving the beach I decided to stop into the hotel next to where I was staying and take a swim in the pool. My new friend decided to join me and once in the pool he started to get uncomfortably close to me -under water. What part of ¨I´m married¨ did he not understand? The language barrier was not that wide here, but somehow I wasn´t communicating clearly. Nothing like a foot in the face followed by a big splash of water to get one´s message across. Very peculiar. I even had a young man who was walking on the road ahead of me, fully aware of my presence, stop and pee, right in front of me. When he was done he took up the pace beside me and when I turned left to go to the beach he looked at me and gestured for me to come with him. Hmm. I do have to say that the attention can be flattering, but some behaviors are just more flattering than others, for sure. So much Machismo. Thank god I am having a night out with the girls tonight. I need some female fun. Even so, the ¨close encounters¨ are a really good way to practice my spanish. For someone who takes communication very seriously, especially verbal communication, it´s kind of funny to see myself reduced to pantomime. I´m using my hands, making faces, acting things out- even if no one understands me, I´m providing a good laugh and I´m finding a laugh and a smile will get you everywhere!!

Don't Cut Your Losses

This morning I was sitting with Wantana eating a bowl of oatmeal laced with freshly made almond milk Wantana had made for me after I had told her that was what I preferred in my cereal and tea. It was a beautiful morning, the sun and the sound of the surf beckoning me to come out and play, but I was exhausted and I had a tiny flea infested six week old puppy that I had rescued from a drainage ditch yesterday asleep on my lap. Sarah, the director of Nosara Animal Care, was coming to pick up "Francine", but was running behind so we sat and talked, our conversation weaving in and out of myriad topics ranging from Wantana's talents as an herbalist to stories about our lives, to Dharma and local gossip. Wantana was telling me about her son, who was going to Afghanistan soon and her marriage that ended in divorce after ten years. "I still love him" she said, but her need to be alone and independent had no place in her marriage. After the divorce she went back to the temple to aquire some grounding and to reaquaint herself with her Buddhist upbringing. "It was like a death" she said. Like a death. We experience so many losses in our lives that are "like a death". Divorce, children growing up and leaving home, the loss of a job, a move, an affair. All of these experiences are considerable losses, but why don't we honor them as such? I remember when our son Joshua went to college-Dan and I were so busy preparing for the transition- shopping, helping get his finances in order. We impulsively planned a vacation departing the day we said goodbye to Josh in his new college home. Sitting on the plane I remember feeling somewhat in shock. We never once talked about what a change this would be for our family of four- we never talked about how this would change all of our lives, how this might make us feel and what could we do to honor this transition. When there is a death everyone is informed, family friends, community- we all come together to support one another. Why don't we have rituals or other ways to acknowledge life's other losses? When my heart was broken by my husbands affair- which really was the death of my marriage as I knew it- there were not many places or people to turn to, no rite of passage that could help me navigate through this significant loss. No way to properly grieve. The story of our losses are usually the transformative ones that lead to our greatest openings if we let them and in that place of total vulnerabilty and emptiness something else is born. Something I recognized about myself during this recent heartbreak was that my heart had been broken long before as a young girl of twelve and only lately do I realize how significant this is to me. I come by my singing voice quite honestly. My dad, Robert "Bob" Sachse, had the most beautiful honey toned voice I had ever heard. He emulated Johnny Mathis, Harry Belafonte, the Everley Brothers- he had an original and compelling voice that along with his smooth guitar playing style, was the center of attention at all family, church and community gatherings. I am the oldest of six and the one my father focused his attention on, teaching me guitar at an early age, sitting me down at the kitchen table of our farnhouse teaching me all of his songs. I in turn, taught my sisters to sing harmony and a family band was born. My fondest memories as a young girl consist of me singing and playing guitar wilth my family and being loved and apprecitaed for it. That all ended when my dad suffered a head injury in a near fatal car accident that left him unable to play guitar and sing ever again and although I continued to sing, I never played guitar again. I feel so sad writing these words and I feel that familiar "lump" in my throat chakra. How could a twelve year old gilrl recognize and move through that kind of loss? The death of something very beautiful in my young life. So, contemplating lifes losses on Wantanas porch and thinking about my recent committment to bring awaremness to the passages not only in my life, but in the lives of my family, friends and community. I was in a sleepy day dream, a sleeping puppy on my lap when I heard Wantana say, "Oh, I have a guitar for you, do you play?"

Symbol Endorsement

My Husband Dan is a drummer in a band called TR3. The band is the brain child of Tim Reynolds, a phenominal guitar player who has been nurturing various incarnations of this trio for over 20 years. Tim moved to the Outer Banks of North Carolina about four years ago and soon after discovered the raw and virtually untapped talent of Dan and his long time collaborator, bass player, Mick Vaughn. Together the three of them sound like a well oiled machine and for the past three and a half years they have been touring all over the country playing some of the best venues in some of the best cities and towns in America. The new level of playing for Dan has brought many gifts one of which is a ¨ Cymbal Endorsement¨. Paiste Cymbals provides Dan with state of the art cymbals to play on and in exchange, Dan promotes the company when he is playing in front of thousands of people each year. Yesterday after a stressful night of flooding and subsequent relocation I started thinking about my situation ¨symbolically¨. Actually, it was Dan who first touched on the subject after I told him in an email that I was feeling vulnerable and weepy after my meditaion class on Sunday and then on that same night, my cabina was totally flooded. ¨It sounds to me like you are supposed to move. The rain and tears came at the same time. It sounds like the energy in the meditation is what you needed. The rain, the tears, the flood is all part of your experience. Keep me posted¨. Dan has brought to me a unique way of understanding life´s events. He is able to see a situation or take something I want to share with him and look at it metaphorically. To be truthful, who wants to hear, ¨Keep me posted¨ when your world has just turned upside down, you´re in a foreign country and you don´t have anyones phone number? The next day Dan shared his own experience looking at life symbolically. ¨So this is my experience on my my daily quest in life and that is, Look for Symbols. Today was huge.The dead tree was cut at 9am. beautiful hardwood. The tree started dying at the start of my affair. The tree cut is a cleansing to the skyline from the back porch. Wow. Good energy is everywhere, enjoy!¨ The tree cut sounds like more than a cleansing to our backyard veiw and for that I am grateful. So I decided to follow the path of tears to rain to flooding in symbolic terms and found out that rain is a symbol for tears, sorrow, anger, cleansing, renewal, forgiveness and more, usually on a heavenly, worldly or very large sort of personal scale. I´ve been thinking about the Gulf of Mexico a lot lately and decided to send some of my cleansing energy there and I´m also applying it here in my jungle home, with me. Flooding symbolizes the release of the emotions from the unconcious, intense emotions that may seem overwhelming. Yes. This morning as soon as I woke up I went to my tree top window and there not two arm lengths away from me was a beautiful Howler Monkey feasting on some sort of berry clusters growing on the tree, baby sibling close by, huge daddy too. ( I tasted a berry later and it was good and sweet, but I´m not sure what it is) In Hindu mythology, monkeys are worshipped as a symbol of physical strength, perserverance and devotion. In western culture monkeys are symbolic of many things. For some people they represent nature, humanity or benevolence. To others they are symbolic of cunningness, mimicry or mischievousness. They are symbols of playfulness and agility to some and inspiration and freedom to others. Freedom. I like that. Feeling quite free, I continued my day pondering all of these things, amazed at my journey so far. I was walking home from the Mini Super, the local convenience store, trying to grab some wine and supplies between bouts of rain. Strolling along happily I heard a strange sound coming from somewhere on the side of the road. I slowed, thinking what a strange frog sound, is that an insect? Slower still I realized that what I was hearing was a pitiful cry for help from an animal. I turned around and approached the sound and saw a tiny black and white puppy buried in a ditch of water, leaves, dirt and sticks. It was so weak it couldn´t move, green flies swarming all over it. My heart sank, what could I do? I really didn´t want to touch the poor thing it was so dirty and full of bugs, but it was a tiny baby so I scooped it up and walked into the driveway next to where the puppy was dumped, the relieved animal looking up at me with big sad brown eyes from my cupped hands. ¨Hola!¨ I shouted several times. Finally a woman from the house next door came over to see what was going on. The poor little baby had puncture wounds on it´s head where it had been bitten. I found out there was a woman who takes care of these kinds of animals. We tried calling, but she didn´t answer. So I took the puppy home, checking to see if it was still breathing from time to time, apologizing through, yes, more tears. Wantana immediately named the puppy Frank until we found out she was a girl, now she is Francine. We finally got in touch with Sarah, the animal savior and she will be picking up Francine at 9am tomorrow morning. I fed her milk with an eye dropper and she is now asleep on my lap. Saving the life of an animal suggests that you are successfully acknowledging certain emotions and characteristics represented by the animal. If you are setting an animal free, then it indicates an expression and release of your own primal emotions. Hello. I´m seeing a theme here. Endorsement means to give approval of or support to, especially by public statement. I hereby declare that I am officially endorsing symbols. Just like Dan, I have a ¨Symbol Endorsement¨.

A River Runs Through It

The rain began last night around 6pm. I was getting ready to walk to Casa Tucan for my Sunday night gig with Bill. Casa Tucan is an open air restaurant and bar that features homemade pizza and delicious drinks concocted by the beautiful Lucy behind the bar. It´s a 10 minute walk from the Enchanted Forest where I´m staying and I started out wearing my rain gear, carrying my umbrella, my backpack with my music and other necessary belongings on my back. There were a few people at the bar and two tables of diners enjoying pizza. About an hour into our first set of music it became apparent that the rain was intensifying and no one else would be coming out to hear us play on this night. We cut our losses and agreed to be paid in pizza and a few drinks for the hour we played. I sat down and visited with a couple from Boulder, Colorado who had walked there with no umbrella or raincoat and were waiting for a break in the rain to make their move. There was no break. The rain came down so hard and so fast the sound was deafening and I noticed the water rising on the ground all around the restaurant. I packed my pizza and backpack into a giant garbage bag, zipped up my jacket, opened my umbrella and set out into the night. The road was barely visible even with my flashlight and the water was lapping over my cowboy boots. ¨I´m just going to get wet, nothing I can do about it¨, I told myself as I waded through the rising water. When I approached the path inside the Enchanted Forest that leads to my cabina I was alarmed to find the babbling brook that runs through the property had become a raging river moving swiftly west and brimming over the top of the cement wall that retains it. Getting closer to my cabina things did not look any better. The earth surrounding my little world was completely covered in water and a rougue river was coursing through the kitchen and filling all my space with rapidly rising muddy brown water. Mud and water everywhere. I quickly dragged my suitcases out from under the bed and put everything I could up and out of the waters reach. As quickly as it rose, it receded and the water was replaced with a half an inch of slimy brown mud. I wiped my feet and legs as clean as I could, got into bed and slept. I surveyed the damage by the light of the morning, determined I could no longer stay there and started packing. I figured it was a pretty strong sign telling me to do just that. Brenda came to see how I was doing, ¨Ive been better¨ I said. She told me she had a friend who was willing to take me in and that she would take care of paying her for the rest of my months stay when she had the money. I had paid through July, but Brenda had spent it. I said I´d like to talk to her friend, check out the place and make sure everything was okay. We walked the short distance to what was soon to be my new Nosara home. Brenda´s friend is from Thailand, but came here from California. She sat us down and we talked about my situation, she showed me around the property and offered me a place to stay and a reasonable rate if I should choose to stay there in August. I am now high off of the ground in the top of a huge rancho with smooth wooden floors and windows opening to the tree tops. It´s clean and dry and I also have a small kitchen and bathroom on the lower floor, a wrap around porch and small pool await me. The property is called Dharma Garden and the owner and my new friend is named Wantana, she tells me it´s Sanskrit and means Namaste. Through more tears I told her that she was an angel. ¨There are angels here¨ she said. ¨Sometimes I can smell them¨.

It Feel Like My Heart Is In My Throat- Salty Tears, Sweat and Sea

Yesterday I left my shady haven like I always do around 2:30 in the afternoon to begin my trek to the Nosara Yoga Institute for my daily practice. Depending on my energy level and what time I wake up in the morning, I vacillate between the 10:30 am class and the 3:00 pm class. I glanced at the schedule before I left and noticed that it said Attunement Class- Lenore. Walking happily up the hill I said to myself, “I’m gonna get tuned up!” When I approached the pavilion I noticed four people sitting with their backs against the wall, a yoga mat folded in half beneath them, sitting on a pillow with another pillow supporting their backs. I slowly took a mat down from the rack, positioned myself along the wall next to the others and sat waiting. “Hmmm, I don’t think I’m doing yoga today” I thought. Lenore was walking around adjusting ceiling fan levels, readying the music and sizing up each one of us. She sat down on a mat directly in front of us and smiled. She was in her sixties. Lithe and tan, her short brown hair was cut into a perfect bowl around her cherubic face. She was wearing a turquoise tank top and a long flowing skirt and I could see the definition of her triceps muscles in her arms. She was beautiful and I admired her already. It turns out Attunement is a form of guided meditation developed by Lenore that uses music, very specific tones and frequencies of music, to align the chakras. The word chakra comes from an ancient Indian language known as Sanskrit, chakra meaning vortex, spinning wheel or circle. Chakras are the centre of spiritual power in the human body and are circles of energy which balance, store and distribute the energies of life all throughout our physical body as well as our subtle body, spirit or soul.
For the first half of the ninety minute class, Lenore went down the line one by one asking each of us about our experience with meditation and what we wanted to achieve today. Each of my fellow students spoke for maybe a minute or so, with Lenore looking at the speaker intently, then in the pause after each comment, Lenore would speak and her words would lead to a story and the story would take us on a journey. I soon found myself becoming light headed, and twice brought to tears. I’m not even sure what she was talking about but when it came to me to speak (I was the last in the line) I said that I felt like I was where I needed to be at exactly that moment, and I told her I was feeling light headed and somewhat teary. The young mother and aspiring Reiki practitioner beside me said- me too. Lenore put her hand on her heart and with tears in her eyes said, “I feel it too”. The meditation was very basic with Lenore guiding us to visualize a color for each chakra starting at the root chakra with the color red and moving up from there to the crown chakra and then back down. I was very relaxed and not really having much luck visualizing the colors-loud trucks on the road and planes in the sky made it hard to hear Lenore’s voice. But really, it didn’t seem to matter. All I know is that when we reached the throat charka I immediately felt a lump in my throat, a sensation I have been feeling for quite some time now and every time I feel it I feel an emotional response. And now since yesterday I have been crying on and off all day. My salty tears mixing with sweat and sea.

Anchor, Compass, Prayer Box, Owl

I wear a long chain around my neck that carries four charms; an anchor, a compass, a prayer box and an owl. The sturdy silver anchor was given to me by one of my best friends, Marian; she introduced me to the concept of “girlfriend jewelry” nearly fifteen years ago. Girlfriend jewelry is a piece of jewelry already owned and lovingly worn by the girlfriend giving it to you, or something new and selected with only you in mind-jewelry that when worn will impart the spirit of the giver, the powerful, loving “girlfriend” energy. I have rings, crystal charms, bracelets, earrings, each piece reminding me of the friend who gave them to me. This anchor was given to me at a time when I clearly needed one. I was living alone with our daughter Lucy in Carrboro, North Carolina. We had decided as a family that it would be better for Lucy to finish her last two years of high school away from the Outer Banks. I was away from my support network, my “nest”, my work and my husband was lost. The anchor became a symbol to me- reminding me that I could “drop anchor” wherever I was and be still. After a year, the same friend, seeing that I needed more than an anchor, gave me the compass. It’s a working miniature compass that shows me what direction I am headed and reminds me that there is help out there when you need it and if you need it ask for it. The compass was replaced soon after with a small thin rectangular, silver box that has two hinges, a clasp and is engraved with a simple cross. I write down prayers, thoughts and affirmations and place them inside and carry them with me wherever I go. Recently my husband Dan gave me the small owl, carved out of some sort of smooth black stone. Native Americans associated the meaning of owl with wisdom, foresight, and keeper of sacred knowledge. The owl has been a recurring symbol for Dan and I. The first owl was given to Dan from a wise and beautiful woman named Toby who was guiding us through a difficult journey. It’s a small and intricately carved wooden owl that lives on Dan’s nightstand and on mine when Dan is traveling. I know that the owl signifies wisdom, but it’s the collective wisdom- shared wisdom that interests me. Why should I think that I alone have the answers to my questions and should I dismiss a persons wisdom, even my own, when mistakes are made? In my 26 year relationship with my husband Dan I like to think that we have a “wisdom exchange”, each of us stepping in with our wisdom when the other’s is out of reach. I have heard the most profound wise statements coming from Dan as I have battled my self doubts about this trip, myself, and everything lately. He tells me, “I feel like you are digging in to yourself and I am glad you had a lazy day. I think you need many of those. I would use a different word beside lazy. Maybe rejuvenating day. Keep going inward my baby. I hope you will keep discovering the answers that you are looking for and that peace will surround you. Love you and I Love your journey.” Words from the wise! I’m so grateful for his presence in my life and I trust that when I am feeling separated from my wisdom-my strength -he is there, just as I’ve been there for him. But my trust in the collective wisdom goes far beyond my primary relationship. Wisdom is everywhere, in friends, family, collegues, strangers, animals, nature-everywhere. The wise old owl is a reminder that wisdom is all around me and it’s up to me to open my eyes, ears, heart and soul and take it in.

Warrior II

I was wearing my V Warrior t-shirt when I burst into the bedroom where my husband of 22 years was in bed with another woman. V Warrior stands for Vagina Warrior. It was a souvenir t-shirt from a Vagina Monologue production that I co-produced in our community for Hotline, a women’s crisis intervention organization. It wasn’t a surprise to me. I knew what I was going to find as soon as I saw his car in her driveway, but I certainly surprised them as I walked right in, grabbing the sheets and tearing them off of the bed leaving them exposed. I never saw my husband move so fast, his hands covering himself like if I couldn’t see all of his nakedness it wouldn’t be true. I can laugh about it now. Five years ago on that 4th of July when everything started falling apart, in addition to writing “Independence Day” in my journal, I also wrote, “Tragedy + Time = Comedy”. And although what followed was a lot of pain and heartbreak, so much of my journey through that time became the greatest teacher in my life thus far. I was immediately thrust into a place where knowing and trusting my own heart was essential- and I fought, sometimes blindly for what I ultimately believed in. Virabhradra is the name of a fierce warrior, an incarnation of Shiva, described as having a thousand heads, a thousand eyes and a thousand feet, wielding a thousand clubs, and wearing a tiger’s skin. Virabhradasana II, Warrior II. This is the pose to practice when you want to feel powerful, grounded and calm. What speaks to me about this pose is that although there is energy and intention moving forward through an extended arm and a strong bent knee, the body is solid-grounded and steady on both feet, yet the heart is completely exposed and vulnerable-open- and that right there makes all of the difference in the world. I can be a strong fierce warrior woman, but if my heart is not open, if I am not somewhat vulnerable, I’ll never know the true joy of victory or the utter bitter sweetness of defeat.

It's You vs. You

Whenever I find myself doing battle with “outside circumstances”, things that I tell myself are out of my control and I can’t help, I practice a little trick I learned somewhere I like to call, “Change Your Story”. My husband's parents came to visit over Easter, they have a home on the Outer Banks of North Carolina that they live in all summer with family and then they visit in the off season, spring and fall, by themselves. Dan and I were leaving the day after they arrived so we planned to go out for dinner and catch up. As we were driving in the car to go to dinner, mom asked me, “Laura, how’s your job?” Without a beat or a breath I immediately went into a story about how much I was working, how stressed out I was and how I didn’t have any time for myself. After unburdening myself of this list my mother-in –law may have made a sound of acknowledgement or short comment- I don’t remember. What I do remember is that I shut the conversation down completely. It bothered me for days when I thought about all the other true things I could’ve said that were wonderful about my job-how we’ve trained artists to work with hospice patients, how we are getting ready to move into an historic landmark that has been vacant for 6 years, how there is so much creativity in our small community-but I chose to complain. Had I told any of the other stories I’m sure it would have invited an enthusiastic response from my mother, more questions that would possibly lead to more stories, hers and mine. There would be room for opening not closing. Why do I do that? It’s easy to fall into the martyr role, to look at life’s circumstance s and say, “Why Me?” “Oh, poor Laura, she works so hard” Those kind of statements will get you attention, but not necessarily the attention you need. It’s actually easier than saying, “Wait a minute. There is another way to tell this story.” When I change the story a whole new world of possibilities opens up for me. I’m no longer fighting outside circumstances that really do not have anything to do with me, my being, my soul- who I am. I can then see I am fighting myself, and it’s a constant battle for balance, for the quieting of that voice inside of me that tells me- “your not, you should, you don’t”. My gloves are up, my right hook mean. It’s Me vs. Me and I’m going the distance.

The House That Dominatrix Built

The cabina I am staying in is on a piece of property in Guinness Beach, Nosara called The Enchanted Forest. Owned by a woman named Brenda and purchased 10 years ago, this small piece of pristine jungle has been gently habitated by Brenda and her 3 dogs- gradual additions of small rustic cabinas as money came in from whatever creative source Brenda could muster-a woman alone in a small remote village in a third world country Although access to Nosara has become easier over the years with the addition of the Liberia Airport 2 1/2 hours away, once you get past a certain point you are catapulted onto a rocky, unpaved, precarious, potholed road-and I use that term loosely. I've been coming here for 5 maybe 6 years and I've seen some minor changes-progress, but I came as a tourist seeking family fun in the comfort of air-conditioned, well equipped vacation rentals. When Brenda arrived the journey was much longer, the closest airport in San Jose was 5 hours away and 10 years ago there was not too much development, not too much to do, a small community of pioneers making their way in the tropical jungle retired or catering to the tourists who stumbled upon this piece of paradise in search of surf, fish, relaxation and adventure. When I think of Brenda I think of adventure. This morning over tea and yerba matte she rattled off a list of her past professions; hazardous chemical tank cleaner, underwater diver to recover dead bodies, autopsy assistant, caregiver and professional boxer. That's how I know her, Brenda the Boxer. Tiger Boxer is her fighting name because she has tiger stripes tattooed down the length of both sides of her entire lean body. She had an illustrious career, fighting in Vegas, traveling the world competing against all of the best women boxers in her time. She was second in the world for her weight, 115lbs. When you enter the Enchanted Forest it's hard to see what exactly exists in there because hardly any of the jungle has been touched in order for Brenda to make her home there. Everything kind of blends in to the flora and fauna and all of the unique structures seem right at home. Hand painted signs inform visitors to the Enchanted Forest- Bano, Healing Massage and yes- Boxing Ring. Brenda has a full sized boxing ring in the middle of her jungle oasis complete with stadium seating. There is a collection of every sized boxing glove, jump ropes, weights and anything else you would need to train for a match or a life in the jungle. In order to survive in the jungle one must be very creative and resourceful and it appears that Brenda has done just that. While sipping my tea she tells me about the people she's trained, the boxing matches she has put on for the community with local youth trained by her, the fun fundraisers featuring women vs. women matches, the characters from all over the world who find thier way to the Enchanted Forest and how each cabina came into existence as small amounts of money came in. It turns out that a man from Nosara could only cry if he was "dominated" by a woman. Seeing a need and a potential cash flow, with the help of a riding crop she helped the man cry. I really didn't want to press for details. There are some things you just don't want to know, and after all it was morning and I was drinking tea. (This may come up later at night over rum) What I do know is that my sweet little cabina was built on the tears of a very repressed and unusual man. I can only look at it now as the house that dominatrix built.

Savasana, Time to Feel and Recieve

Nestled high on a hill in the middle of a dense jungle sits a space open to the air, ocean breezes and jungle sounds. A yoga studio. You can find your way there through winding paths that meander through ancient trees, birds of paradise, ferns, hibiscus and every kind of palm you can imagine. Stairs that cut into the side of the hill lead you to this perch in paradise. The studio is part of the Nosara Yoga Institute, a teaching center that offers daily classes to visitors and residents and also certifies and trains aspiring yogis to become teachers. The rain began almost as soon as we began our practice and under the spirited guidance of "Gabby" it was languid and intentional with just enough exertion. The time came for final relaxation, corpse pose, Savasana. As we lay on our mats on our backs, eyes closed, breath slowing, Gabby said, "Savasana, time to feel and recieve". Time to feel and recieve. How do I do that? When I practive yoga the time for "feeling and recieving" is built right in at the end of every single session. But still, sometimes as I am lying there my mind is way ahead of me, thinking of future tasks, obsessive thoughts, random musings-chatter. What if I can't take a yoga class? How do I make the time? How do I feel and recieve when I am on my blackberry 24/7? Talking on the phone in the car, texting on the beach, in the store and even at dinner, checking my email how many times a day? When I arrived in Nosara, Costa Rica four days ago my fingers were twitching, looking for some buttons to press, my mind telling me I needed to talk to my husband Dan because after all, we call each other at least five times a day, in a panic because I hadn't had my cell phone to my ear in almost 24 hours.
Time to Feel and Recieve. I can feel the gradual disconnection from my need to be constantly connected to the outside world. I can feel that by taking this time to recieve I am making the space I seek. My undisciplined thoughts want to travel to the future, to the what ifs? The how cans? The when wills? I bring myself back and think of what Ahn, an Outer Banks Yogi, always says during our practice. "You make the space".

These Boots Are Made For Walking

I love wearing boots. Winter, spring, summer and fall, boots are always in season as far as I'm concerned. My two favorite pair are a 20 year old pair of black Tony Lamas I purchased at a western wear store somewhere in Florida after the birth of our daughter Lucy, and $4 vintage Dingos found at Hotline, our local thrift spot. I didn't think twice about taking them with me on this adventure. It's the rainy season here and with not a paved road in sight I couldn't imagine tramping throught the mud and puddles in my flip flops. Boots would do just fine and I think they look better when they are all muddy and scuffed-like a cowgirl just off the range. Since my budget does not include a car, quad, golf cart or any other means of motorized transportation folks use here and since the bike I am supposed to be using has mysteriously vanished, I'm walking everywhere. When you are walking it is so much easier to connect to where you are. It forces you to slow down and notice your surroundings-the sound of the waves crashing on rocks, the smell of roasting meats from an outdoor barbecue along the path, friendly greetings from people passing by. "Ola!" " Buenos Noches!". The birds, the trees...what an amazing world! The funny thing is, all of my soul searching questions are totally trumped by the more important ones. "Is that howler monkey in the tree above me going to attack?" "Any chance a snake will cross this jungle path I'm walking on alone?" "If someting did happen to me, how would I let someone know with no cell phone, walkie talkie, mega phone-nothing!?" "Did I remember to put my rain poncho in my back pack?" You get the picture. The life that is happening all around us right now needs our attenttion! You never know when a scorpion is going to crawl out of your coffee cup!

Independance Day

Independance Day.
Five years ago on this very day I wrote these words down in my jouranl as I was driving to our mountain home in Asheville, North Carolina to take a break from a confusing and painful situation at home. My husband Dan had become very distant and strange and I knew something was horribly wrong, but I could not figure out what it was and he could not expess what was going on with him to me. So I left. I took 10 days, starting on Independance Day, to clear my head, clean our mountain home, practice yoga and meditate on my marriage. It was the first time in our 22 years of marriage that I was truly alone for that length of time and it gave me the opportunity and the space I needed to sort things out. What came were more questions, but also the knowing that my love for Dan was deep and true and that I couldn't force him to do things my way or to "give ultimatums". "I am not an ultimatum giving person" is what I wrote in my journal during that time. I knew Dan loved me and that our relationship was unique and strong. What I didn't know, and I found out two months later was that Dan was having an affair. So now on this Independance Day, five years later, I am again alone and feeling independant in almost every sense of the word. I am still married to Dan and we have both worked long and hard to bring our relationship back to balance. It hasn't been easy and it has taken up alot of my "space". And as we've healed our marriage and ourselves, my soul has been asking for space. I have been asking for space, out loud, on paper and in prayer. Then an email from a musician friend arrives late May. "Can you come to Nosara, Costa Rica to sing and teach for two months?"

Departure

This morning I left the comfort of my home and the security of my job to escape to Costa Rica for two solid months-alone. At work they are calling it a sabbatical, which sounds professional and easy to understand. I, however do not know what to call it..all I know is that if I hadn't left I would have gone crazy or even worse, lost myself completely. I say completely because I feel like I have been gradually losing sight of myself, who I am, what I am meant to do, what brings me joy, what ignites my passion. The past few years have been challenging and I am wondering if some of the decisions I made during these trying times were the right ones. Did I fight for my marriage because I really wanted it? Or was it because I can't stand losing? Is working in my current position as Executive Director for a small cultural arts non-profit what I really want to do? Or does it feed my ego, keep me "in place" when part of me has felt like running for so long? So here I am sitting in the US Airways club in Charlotte NC, waiting to fly away-for two months-to hopefully answer these questions, reset my buttons and regain or maybe even find for the first time my true sense of who I am. One thing for certain, I am traveling forward wearing some pretty spiffy cowboy boots thanks to Cynthia.