The Day I Learned To Swim

I remember at a very young age, my father taking us in the winter to an indoor swimming pool at a local high school in Milwaukee, Wisconsin so we could learn how to swim. I have vague recollections of jumping off of starting platforms into the water and swimming in the lane back to the platform. I was six and by summer I was swimming like a fish. My father was a swimmer, a water lover. I’ve seen photographs of him as a young man, lean and happy posing with friends and at family gatherings held on the lakes so abundant in my home state. He was also a merchant marine and relished his time on the great lakes. I lived in Milwaukee until I was nine years old. In the winter we would frequent indoor pools at nearby schools, jumping off the diving boards, flying out of our dads arms as he tossed us in the water, swimming back to him for more. In the summer we swam in lakes and fresh water quarries with crystal clear waters surrounded by rocky cliffs that we could leap off of into the crisp cold water. Soon there was a pool in our back yard that could barely hold our family of seven (my brother wasn't born yet), much less all of the neighbors and cousins who clamored to join us. “Just put your foot down child, the water is only waist high. I’ll let go of you gently, so you can swim to me.” These words from a Kate Bush song remind me of those times. I never feared for my safety in the water, my father’s strong presence and encouragement emboldened all of us. We became expert divers, back flippers, strong and capable swimmers who never tired and who swam outside even in the cold until our lips were bright blue. When we moved from the city to the country we scoured the vast landscape surrounding our humble farmhouse looking for bodies of water. It was a different time and place and though we were quite young we would explore our pristine surroundings unsupervised for hours emerging from rivers and hidden ponds glorious and dripping wet sometimes with leeches between our toes from the muddy bottoms. In high school I swam competitively on the school team. Although I was not a much of a disciplined athlete I loved the water and can remember my dad coming to my local meets after work smiling as I stepped out of the water following a race-never winning, but not losing either. “I’ll let go gently, so you can swim to me...” Learning to swim brings to mind that scary moment, that place between the fear of letting go and letting go, that moment before jumping into the water for the first time or off of a high dive, those choices that involve the risk of facing the unknown as opposed to the safety and comfort of what is known. Contemplating my time away, my “space” I am now faced with the challenge of integrating the lessons of my journey into my reality. I feel it is time for bold action, time for me to pursue my dreams and goals and I pray for the strength to take the first steps trusting that the universe will provide everything I need.

Exodus

I couldn’t sleep. The driver was coming to pick me up at 7:30 so I could be at the airport for a 2:30 flight. The sun rose at five and I followed close behind making tea and finishing my packing. I left three umbrellas- Lord knows they will need them more than I will. I also left a half a bottle of Flora De Cana rum, my beach towel and a spare suitcase. I did manage to fit all of the shells I found on the beach and both pairs of boots-my Dingos and cowboy boots- in my suitcase! I took one last look at the beautiful backyard at Casa Del Ray, the sloping hill going down to the pool, the ocean in full view in the background, all the beautiful tropical foliage. I thought about how much I will miss my nightly "skinny dips” in the pool before going to bed. I walked through the apartment to the front porch where I got into a hammock and swung lazily, listening to the sounds of the jungle, trying to memorize as much of it as I could. The monkeys were howling, the birds were singing, squirrels and lizards scurried about. I thought about how much I have grown accustomed to their exotic sounds and how much I appreciated being witness to such amazing diversity in this jungle. I started crying and then realized that my ride should have arrived. I called Victor at Harbor Reef, who arranged my travel plans and he said I should be seeing my car and driver in minutes. One half hour later after frantically calling Victor again, I was running down the road trying to find this lost van driver. I live in the “middle fork” of three dead end roads; surely he could figure it out! When he did, he was frantic, spitting out harsh words in Spanish through his toothless mouth. We drove up the hill to grab my things and we were off. We did not get very far before we came upon road construction. Road work in these parts consist of dumping truckloads of dirt and gravel down on the existing excuses for a road and trying to smooth it out as much as possible, then cross your fingers that the rainy season will not wash it all away. I was starting to panic because we sat there for what seemed to be at least a half an hour. I did not want to miss my flight. I fought back tears and the driver was cleared to move forward, yelling and cursing and looking at me in the rearview mirror. Meanwhile I’m wiping my tears that are now mixed with sweat because he has no air conditioning, or he won’t turn it on. After a few more miles we approach yet another construction zone and this time my driver loses it and springs from the car running to the man holding the flag. I start crying for real knowing there is no way I will get to San Jose on time. The driver returns and calls Victor. After a brief conversation he holds the phone out to me and says, “Victor”. Victor tells me we will be through this road block in ten minutes and that I will still have plenty of time to make my flight. Slightly reassured, I hand the phone back and soon we are traversing the perilous twenty plus kilometers over the flooded, muddy, bumpy terrain until paved road. Once on paved roads, I tucked a small travel pillow under my head and tried to sleep. I awoke when the van stopped thinking that we might be at a gas station and how I could really use water since my body was sweating buckets of it in the oven-like van. I sat up and found myself looking at a woman staring at me through the window. She gestured and I shook my head and said “No”. She knocked on the window and I realized that she was a police officer. Two other heavily armed officers stood by. Another delay. I handed her my passport and told her I was a tourist. She reached in the van and touched my backpack and motioned for me to open it. “You want to look in my backpack, really? It took me twenty minutes to fit everything that it is in it inside. It’s a mess.” She smiled and waved for me to show her. So I showed her my Laptop, cords, magazines, notebooks. She pointed to a small brown bag. “It’s my new bikini” I said. We did not understand a word we were saying to each other, but I could tell she wanted to see what was in the bag. When I pulled it out to show her holding it up to my body she said, “Sexy”. I spent the rest of the ride between trying not to be a backseat driver-he was so slow- doing deep breathing to relax and napping. I woke up to my driver shouting “Aero Puerto!” He swung around and approached the departing flights terminal, looked at his watch and rejoiced holding out his hand for me to high five.

It Will Be Soon

Today I woke up to another rainy morning, went back to sleep and dreamed of a huge green snake, woke up, dozed off again and when I finally dragged my body out of bed, I made a cup a tea and booked the first flight out of here. My time in Nosara has come to a close and tonight when I sang my final song at the Guilded Iguana, I cried. Being here has meant more to me than I ever could have realized and now with a few more weeks before I have to officially re-enter my world, I am feeling the need for a change of scenery, an energetic shift. I think I need a “middle ground” between Nosara and my life that is chomping at the bit for me to return to. So this morning when I woke up and found it was so easy to rearrange my plans, I did. I had imagined that my departure from here would be dramatic with a celebration that would incorporate all of the wonderful people I have met along the way, but I’m leaving the way I came, quietly and I am so grateful that I was able to see my friends who were out tonight and to hug and kiss them- until next time. I know it will be soon.

Transparency

I’ve been thinking about transparency a lot lately. It is a word that has surfaced over and over again in my recent journey to heal my marriage after my husband’s affair. At first the word transparency seemed to apply only to him. When we were in the middle of working through the pain and lost trust it was necessary that Dan become as transparent as possible in order for me to regain some comfort-trust, in the relationship. At first this was pretty uncomfortable because before the affair, we were used to quite a bit of autonomy with all kinds of things going on in our individual lives that we had no need or time to share. But after the affair, I needed to know what Dan was doing, who he was doing it with, what he was thinking. It also felt like I cared more, I wanted to know. It was hard, especially for Dan, but somehow he understood how the importance of being transparent was in order to come full circle with trust again and to heal. It was hard for me too, because I never considered myself the kind of person who “keeps tabs” on her mate- I always just trusted him. Now that we are well on our way to closing that chapter in our lives, I started thinking about transparency in relationship to my own life and how I move through the world. I don’t want to have secrets. Secrets feel like fear and lying. I don’t want to hold back or be ashamed of anything that I do or have done. By shining a light on my life and being transparent, I hope to invite others who share some or any of my experience to share their experiences with me. In doing that I don’t feel so alone. In fact I know I’m not. Before doing Kundalini Yoga this past Saturday night the instructor talked about transparency and how much our world has changed with social media and modern technology and communication. We know an awful lot about each other and we can use this knowing, this transparency to bring us closer; make us feel like the human family that we are. The instructor said, “Transparency equals freedom” Tonight at a lovely gathering of new friends over food, passion fruit margaritas and drumming, I spoke with someone who said everything we do is all out there anyway. Do we think that nobody sees us? Even if you don’t believe in god or a higher power, our highest self always knows. So this transparency to me is a calling to bring forth my highest self, to move in this world as if everyone can see what I’m doing, to be the kind of person I am aspiring to be, unashamed, alive and free.

My World According to Zena

Sunday, Domingo, a day of rest. I started my morning with yoga at the Nosara Institute with Danielle and afterwards came home and decided to do a little nesting. I cleaned, cooked rice and beans, made a salad, caught up my correspondence and took dips in the pool. My thoughts of yesterday traveled through my mind while I enjoyed the quiet and rhythmic movements of cooking and cleaning. Yesterday I woke up feeling energetic and ready for the day. Morning yoga with Karl was fun-Karl is somewhere in his early fifties, but looking like somewhere closer to thirty with a compact, muscled body clothed in nothing but baggy board shorts for class. He’s a total Venice Beach California guy and his classes are hard. There were about five people in the class who had never done yoga before, but they hung in there and tried everything Karl dished out. There was a lot of laughter. Afterwards I headed towards town, my backpack packed for the day. I ran into Schlomo on the street in front of his organic market, Organico. He was excited,they had just made fresh ginger candy and he was also high on the discovery of some new music. Schlomo is a Kundalini yoga teacher and he sings and plays devotional chants with his guitar. He was in the street because the day was so beautiful and his energy to “big” for the inside of his small market. He reminded me that there was a Kundalini class at the Yoga Spa, a retreat center high in the hills outside of town. For twenty dollars you get a ride out to the spa, a Kundalini class and a family style dinner. I told him I’d see him at four and continued through town stopping at Café De Paris for a coffee and mini quiche, the bikini shop to get fitted for a custom made suit, and Body Works to confirm a massage for my sciatica. When I walked down the steps from Bodyworks, I noticed the building next door was a doctor’s office. Curious, I walked in and inquired about the possibility of getting a shot to alleviate my sciatic pain. My friend Brenda the boxer told me that is what a lot of the yogis do, because apparently sciatica is a common issue among them. Five minutes later I was laying on an undressed table with my shorts down, the very young doctor asking, “When was the last time you had a shot in your butt cheeks? “ Me asking, “Are you a doctor?” He was and for thirty dollars I received a non-steroidal injection for my pain-no paperwork-fifteen minutes later I was on the beach. The day was perfect, dry and sunny. I gathered seashells, swam, read and wrote a little. At four I went to Organico Market to embark on a Kundalini adventure. People started gathering and by the time we were ready to depart we had three big vehicles full of people. The Yoga Spa is past town and on a piece of property that appears to be the highest elevation in the area. After a steep climb we arrived at a gorgeous facility perched along a cliff, panoramic views of the ocean and jungle canopy surrounded us. The rancho that we were going to practice in was a massive wooden structure with a tall peaked roof made of tightly woven palms, the wood floors and supporting beams were all hand hewn made of dark gleaming wood. We settled in and sat quietly for awhile, some of us peering over the precipice to watch monkeys eat leaves and hang from the trees. It was a first monkey sighting for some. Schlomo started strumming light chords on the guitar and then led us in a chant with just the word Hari. We moved into the sensual practice and fluid movement while the sun set on the horizon into the sea. Afterwards we all gathered in the outdoor kitchen where long wooden tables were set with placemats, cloth napkins and beautiful flowers and we shared a tasty vegetarian meal and good conversation. I jumped in the first ride down the hill so I could shower- I was still sandy from the beach- and dress for Gabby and Francella’s birthday. The party started at Il Basilica and was to move to La Banana and then the Tropicana. I heard the belly dancing music from the street and hurried into La Banana to catch the end of an exotic looking woman in full belly dancing apparel coming to the close of her routine. From the reaction of the crowd it must have been good. I had fun dancing with the girls for awhile and then realized the belly dancer was reading tarot cards after her show. I waited for on opening and sat down for a reading. With the cards shuffled and spread out on the table, Zena said, “Oh my, how emotional!” I just smiled. The first card representing me was justice. Zena told me she could see I was a strong and fair. The card over me signified a young man who was apparently causing me much strife. It went on from there with Zena telling me that this is a karmic relationship that spans many lifetimes and the negative cycle needs to be broken. She added that, “It is too hard for you, too much effort in this relationship to keep your balance.” The good news is the future projections had all of the best “love” cards in it. “So whatever happens” Zena said, “ It’s all going to work out for you, you are going to have the love you deserve” I skipped home in the dark kicking up gravel with my cowboy boots thanking the stars for such a good day.

Sing Breathe Rest Believe and Eat Pray Love Too!

Yesterday a good friend of mine forwarded the NY Times review of the movie, Eat Pray Love based on the best seller by Elizabeth Gilbert. Eat Pray Love is the story of a woman’s journey to find herself after her marriage ends in a divorce. The book came out during the time my husband and I were dealing with the unraveling of my husband’s affair with another woman. The trauma and stress of that experience resulted in me suffering from post traumatic stress syndrome and anxiety attacks-something I’d never come close to experiencing before and I hope I never will again. During this time it was difficult for me to focus enough to read fiction and it was next to impossible to watch, read and listen to anything remotely related to infidelity, mid-life crisis’s, etc. I had to walk out of the movie, Waitress, that I went to see with Dan and my Grandmother. So I did not open the pages of Eat Pray Love until I was on a little more solid ground and even then I identified with the story and the main character a little too closely and was a little envious that I could not “globe trot” for nine months at that time trying to figure out my life. All in all I found the book a good, light read and I devoured it in a day or two. The review talks about how unusual it is for a woman in a Hollywood movie to be concerned with herself, her creativity and spirit and not focused on finding a mate. The happy endings in most mainstream movies involve the woman getting the man with all happiness ending at the altar. I have had a lot of people comment on my writing and the similarity between Elizabeth Gilbert’s journey. I think it is every woman’s journey, every “humans" journey- our quest to find our individual selves outside of anything else. Here in Nosara, I talk to people, men and women, everyday who are doing exactly what I’m doing. I’m glad such an inspiring story is actually going to reach the masses. Perhaps we can all be encouraged to share our stories with each other, all the real, raw stuff that actually makes up a life. Leaving for my two month journey to Nosara, Costa Rica, I talked to a woman who acts as a coach for me sometimes, she is a Jungian therapist and life coach and has been invaluable to me in regard to bouncing my ideas off of her, sharing my thoughts and feelings- and in return I receive very pragmatic and wise guidance- mostly she just helps lead me to my own truths. I was sharing with her the fantasy that I had about meeting another man in Nosara, one who would sweep me off of my feet and take me away from my reality. This fantasy bothered me on several levels, first why does it have to be a man, a knight in shining amour to save the day? To rescue the damsel in distress? I think as women we are so preconditioned to that kind of outcome. I’ve always considered myself a woman who is strong and independent. I want to break free from that inclination, the belief that all will be right with the world if the right mans comes along. Another reason this concept bothers me is I don’t believe any other man can fix this. I know the man I’m married to loves me and I also know he is human and like all humans, we make mistakes. I truly believe that building a foundation on the goodness that exists-if it does indeed exist- is better than jumping into the open arms of a stranger. Even so, before I left I had this feeling come over me that I wanted to bring condoms with me on my trip. Again, it was just a thought but it bothered me and I thought it important enough to share with Dan. Dan’s response amazed me. He understood how I felt and told me he thought the condoms were a metaphor, a symbol of how free I needed to feel during these two months alone. Condom as metaphor. Who knew? I think my husband is very wise and his perspective helped me to put my feelings in the right place- I packed just one, the metaphorical one.

Another Day

I watched the sunset at Guiones Beach and the tide was high, leaving just a few hundred yards of sand for those of us gathered there as spectators for the sunset or for the surfers- the waves tonight were massive. Watching a surfer slice through the middle of a pale grey wall of water I calculated the wave was over twice as high as the person riding it. My friend Catherine arrived with a bottle of wine and two glasses and we sat on a blanket taking it all in while sipping a nice Malbec and getting to know each other. I had just taken a restorative yoga class at the institute with Jane earlier and felt really open and energized- a feeling I have not had since Dan left. I’ve been really struggling with the sciatica in my right leg and it has definitely cast a bit of a shadow on my experience here. At a time when I could really use the cooperation of this body, it has decided to rebel. The positive aspect of dealing with a chronic pain in a “yogi’s world” is that there are a lot of practitioners who want to help, give suggestions for stretches and massage you every day. The flip side of this is that some of these yogis believe pain in the body is a message from the soul, Jane in particular telling me, “Your issues are in your tissues” Yikes. I prefer to think of my yogi friend Yali’s advice telling me that it is blocked energy and you just need to keep the “prana” (life force) moving around. So I’m moving it around and trying not to give my discomfort too much attention. There are way too many other things that deserve it. After the sunset Catherine took me to her house and made a homemade pizza, with chicken, mushrooms, olives, onions and three cheeses. She is an artist and a fine painter, her work displayed throughout their home. Her recent paintings are studies on waves and bring to mind several of the local Outer Banks artists who have mastered the wave on canvas as well as the board. Catherine began surfing during a transitional time in her life, right after turning fifty after fully recovering from breast cancer and dealing with a broken heart. Now her heart is fully healed and she has a wonderful relationship with a beautiful man and her fifty plus body is sculpted and toned from her daily surf sessions. Like many of us who live creatively, she does what she can not only to make ends meet but to live fully in her environment, selling jewelry, paintings and teaching. The more I learn about this place and the people, who make their home here in Nosara, the more I realize that it is not so different from where I live on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Arriving home, I had a brief talk with Dan who is in Denver to play at the Mile High Festival. We both agreed that this was a really difficult week for both of us after our week of “total immersion”. Eleven days left of my journey before I return home. I’m going to concentrate on keeping that Prana moving around and staying open to the endless possibilities in every day.

When You Know You Know

Today my friend Ali married her soul mate Brandon on the beach in Nosara at five this evening. I arrived just after four to prepare; I was going to sing the welcoming song and wanted to be there early enough to help, and lend any support I could. Katherine, (Kati) who is a Kundalini Yoga teacher and priestess was there readying her smudge pot, a ritualistic fire whose smoke is used to cleanse the atmosphere as well as the participants in the ceremony. Schlomo, the officiate was gathering everyone as they came in keeping a watch on the time and the scene. Jane, who I can only describe as our wise woman in this community kept time on a Tibetan bowl with a wooden stick. How this event unfolded is like a dream. First of all, the fact that Ali and Brandon were marrying on the eighth day of their union caught us all by surprise. Knowing Ali for over a month now, I know her to be a no nonsense, dedicated woman to her business and practice here in Nosara as the Pilate’s guru and teacher. I also know her to be dedicated to this community and have had several conversations with her about her gratitude for Nosara and what it has done for her personally, how this community has enabled her to cultivate her strengths and passions. Then out of the blue this man drops in. I saw them together for the first time last Friday night at our concert with Edin Solis, my husband Dan was there and we both witnessed the connection and intense energy between Ali and Brandon. It was palpable; we actually talked about it. Four days later I was asked to sing at the wedding. I asked Ali and Brandon what they wanted me to sing, but they wanted me to choose the song. I told them I would meditate on it and I did. Between late Tuesday evening and the next morning the song that gravitated to me for Ali and Brandon was, The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face. I don’t really sing this song, a Roberta Flack song, but it is my mother’s favorite and exemplifies a pure and simple love that I felt was perfect for Ali and Brandon-“And I knew our joy would fill the earth, and last till the end of time..the first time ever I saw your face..” It was hard to sing with out crying. I was honored to open the ceremony. We were all in a semi-circle around the couple, a perfect mix of our treasured Nosara community; surfers just out of the surf. wet and wearing only board shorts and bathing suits, women and men half dressed, bathing suit tops over flowing skirts, crisp white shirts thrown over bathing suits, more board shorts no shirts, people dressed for the occasion in beautiful dresses with flowers tucked into hair, and dogs every where running in and out of our circle barking loudly as I sang. All I could see as I sang was Brandon crying so I closed my eyes. Afterward Schlomo lead us in a Kundalini mantra, Sa Ta Na Ma, Earth, Living, Death and Rebirth- we chanted this for at least ten minutes, together our voices rising and then falling to a whisper and then rising again. There was a reading from the book of Solomon and words of wisdom from Jane about “Sacred Time” This ceremony was taking place on a graveyard by the sea and we acknowledged the ancestors and recognized the holiness of this union on this particular spot and also acknowledged that everything past, future, present, is right here in the now and the now is all we have. There was another reading, “Poem to my Wife” by M. S. S. Vikram Singh Khalsa that completely hit home with me, and then the vows written by Ali and Brandon, quietly spoken to each other. After sealing it with a kiss, we expanded our circle out towards the beach and chanted a closing mantra- Ali and Brandon chanting, “Sat Nam” and us answering, “Wahe Guru”. Truth is our identity, bow to the divine wisdom within. The rain that had been threatening the entire afternoon, never really fell, the sun burst out of the clouds to set on the horizon at the height of our singing and finally Brandon and Ali vibrating with all of the love and support given to them in this sacred hour, tore their clothes off, grabbed their surfboards and jumped into the ocean as we all watched them paddle into the setting sun. “When you know you know” (Ali)

Action

The nonstop rain since last night feels like a veil of sleepy mist that I am enclosed in. I slept late into the morning hanging on to my dream state until I could no longer. My mind a swirl of energy since Dan’s departure keeps thinking about all the wisdom that has come my way since my arrival forty days ago, particularly, Luigis- “Wherever you are looking, that’s where you’ll go.” I think since finding out about Dan’s affair I have been looking for an escape from the reality of it all. My happiness has been out of reach for quite some time, the promise of time and space heals all existing in some future realm that I can not quite access. The last twenty four hours I have had three completely different perspectives on life and love from three unique women. One woman, just entering the sixth decade of her life has chosen to move on from a fifteen year marriage that both parties have been unhappy in for a long time. Separate bedrooms, distance and no love for years are now seeing change as fear is being replaced by action with her telling me, “The fear was paralyzing, the action is empowering” Another woman living here, in her thirties and a veteran of at least two serious relationships met a man who was traveling to Nosara last week. Last night the two of them were out at my singing engagement, glowing telling me they are getting married tomorrow on the beach and would I sing? They look so in love and are so empowered by their brave decision to just go for it. Talking to them and just looking at them gave me chills. I believe they can make it. I married Dan after knowing him for six months and believe that the initial passion, attraction and immediate “knowing” that we were soul mates is what gets us through the rough stuff. Finally a woman I have become friends with along with her husband told me that they never spend more than two weeks away from each other. If work of something takes them away from home longer than two weeks, they make arrangements to go together. “After two weeks it feels strange”. I have been looking outside of myself and quite frankly outside of and away from home. When I starting thinking about what I want, especially in my relationship with Dan, I started questioning my need for “space” Do I really need it? How much do I need? I think in part it is just prolonging the fact that I have to accept what happened in our marriage and move on. I’ve heard from reliable sources that sometimes it takes a few years to completely get over the devastation of an affair, so all these ideas about love-for myself and patience- for myself really mean something to me now and are not just new age concepts we talked about so flippantly in the late eighties. With Dan gone, I really feel the emptiness; I really feel how much I miss him. I love him. He is my best friend and we have so much fun together. I also know that this much space and distance could potentially be damaging. I’ve been exploring future scenarios here in Nosara, but the reality of that is, it does not serve my relationship with Dan- the two of us living in different countries, might be a problem. I think it is just another way for me to avoid truly recommitting to my marriage with Dan. I think about the Chaka Khan song, “I’m Every Woman” and the three women who I have encountered within the past day. How can I be the wise woman who sheds her need for a man late in life in exchange for her own radiance and be the hopeless romantic who believes in true love, romance and marriage and be the woman who has a found that balance of relationship and space all at the same time? I truly believe I am not limited to any one idea of what a woman can be. There are too many amazing women in my life that embody “Every Woman” and show me otherwise. One of the intentions for this trip was to create a plan of action to implement upon my return. Knowing first hand how paralyzing fear can be, hearing someone tell me how empowered she feels since taking action has fanned the spark in me. I am starting to see and feel the action I need to bring forth.

Love and Patience

I arrived back in Nosara at around 2pm yesterday after taking Dan to the airport. I stopped for gas at the “bomba” just before the road turns from pavement to hell to fill up the rental car and buy a cup of fresh ceviche from a man selling home-made goodies out of his cooler. One thousand colones, roughly two dollars, bought me a plastic cup of probably the best ceviche since my arrival; the perfectly marinated pieces of tender white fish were cut into tiny pieces along with fresh cilantro, red pepper and plenty of lime. I tipped back the cup and drank it as I drove to the intersection. I noticed that it was only 5 kilometers to Samara from there so I thought I’d take a short detour and check it out. Playa Samara is another seaside village that appears to have most of the “business district” settled right off of the beach. There were flea market style vendors set up selling the usual tourist jewelry and beachwear and several artisans selling hand made jewelry on the streets. It looked like there was one main beach access to a small stretch of pretty beach. I parked and walked around for a few minutes and then hit the road. Instead of leaving the way I came in I followed signs to Nosara that took me on unpaved roads immediately. I talked to myself as I seemed to travel far away from anything resembling human existence, telling myself, “You can always turn around!” A person on a bicycle smiled as she passed and a dirt bike drove by. I can’t be too lost, I thought. A few hundred yards after passing the dirt bike rider I pulled up to the river. I was not really sure which river it was, but it was big and brown and there was no way I was going to drive through it on my own in this tin can of a rental car, especially after hearing tales of alligators eating horses and families being swept away by river currents. I turned around. Continuing to follow signs, I made my way to a familiar place on the road and headed home. I laughed at myself thinking about taking the “back roads”; lord only knows where one might end up. Rental car returned and back at Casa Del Ray I had just enough time to dress for yoga and walk to the Nosara Yoga Institute. I was happy to find out it was a gentle “restorative” class. I needed it. Our instructor Jane was a beautiful, fit woman who had no problem telling us she was in her 60’s. I actually knew her through other friends here but had never had a chance to talk with her. After class our conversation easily turned intimate and I found out she was getting ready to break free from her long-term marriage stating, “We just don’t bring out the best in each other”. She gave me a ride home and we talked for awhile on my front porch. I told her I thought she was brave. How many women in their sixties would make a change like that for their own personal “radiance”? This woman is committed to shining until she can no longer shine and when she no longer can it won’t be because of anything she has or hasn’t done. I am having dinner with her tomorrow and look forward to more of her stories and wisdom. After she left I lounged around and finished the book I was reading, a very good mystery written by a local Outer Banks man, Joseph L.S. Terrell called, Tide of Darkness. The entire novel is set on the Outer Banks and revolves around two murders of Lost Colony cast members. Awesome read! After finishing Tide of Darkness, I read a book called On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan. There were only one hundred and sixty six pages and I breezed through the melancholy, ill-fated love story quickly drawn to the last words on the last page. “All she needed was the certainty of his love, and his reassurance that there was no hurry when a lifetime lay ahead of them. Love and Patience-if only he had had them both at once-would surely have seen them both through." My immediate reaction to these words is to project outside of myself. But then, today in yoga, I realized that the love and patience I am looking for has to come from myself. Why is it so hard to be patient with myself? What is the hurry? Why the need for answers? As my husband wrote to me so eloquently in his parting letter, “I long for this journey.” Why do I struggle so hard on this “journey”? I am now home after singing to a very crowded Guilded Iguana restaurant and bar, the rain is falling and I am at peace here in my quiet apartment, with myself and my thoughts and the tiny new born geckos that seemed to have hatched over night and are singing me lullaby’s while they scurry around my walls and ceiling. I feel very good about the few weeks left ahead of me, glad to be back within my "space", fully realizing that I am still needing it.

Re-Entry

Dan left today. We spent last night in Tamarindo at a beautiful hotel, The Garden of Eden, leaving only once to walk the small seaside town before dinner. We talked seriously about our relationship and the need we both have to feel free within it. Dan wrote me a letter while I slept that said, “My heart is big yes but I know all of the stuff that comes with 26 years of being together and trying to make sense of it all and giving us our freedom and feeling really truly centered in this is not a given. It is a passion that has to be tended to. There is no future there is only you sleeping next to me in your anniversary dress that I bought you during rough times. The road is long and I long for this journey my Laura.” I woke up exhausted from too much wine, not enough rest and from the intensity of the past week. Feeling sad about Dan’s departure, but relieved to have my time back I drove the two and one half hour journey over rocky roads back to Nosara.

The Rarest of Places and Times

Tonight we watched the sunset over Guiones through layers of clouds and light rain with the sun breaking free from the clouds a good thirty minutes before finally disappearing beyond the horizon. It was low tide and the reflection of the clouds on the sand along with the glowing pink colors emerging as the sun set lower could only be described as magical. I greeted friends while Dan took a short run; most of the locals come out for the setting of the sun- a community ritual. It is Dan’s last night here in Nosara with me. We rented a small four wheel drive vehicle today and plan on driving to Tamarindo tomorrow for one night before his flight takes off on Monday. It has been an eventful visit to say the least. Thinking about Dan’s post on “minimal” takes me to our night of music last night. My guitar player, Bill McPherson and his fiancée, Janette manage a small hotel high on a hill in Pelada overlooking the sea. It was there that Bill arranged a “house concert” of sorts, featuring Grammy award winning guitarist and Costa Rican Native, Edin Solis. The night was billed as “Two Guitars and One Voice” and it was my understanding that I would perform some of my material and perhaps Edin would play along with us before he would do his own thing. Fifty people came to the venue that was aglow in the setting sun with candles and lanterns set all around the pool and property with a covered poolside veranda set up for the music, comfy couches, lounge chairs and seating arranged casually around the “stage” There was a cash bar and plates of tapas available for sale and folks sat down family style at a long wooden table next to the kitchen to nibble and talk before the show. What happened next was like a dream. Dan, Hernan, the bass player, me, Bill and Edin sat in chairs arranged in a semi-circle giving us all the ability to look each other in the eye and there we stayed all night, playing together, taking turns soloing, listening quietly when Edin played, smiling and shouting out during spirited percussion breaks- Dan playing on nothing but a toy Remo hand-drum that belonged to Bills daughter, using sticks and his hands to coax as many sounds from the drum as humanely possible. Edin and Bill both played beautiful nylon stringed classical guitars, each with a distinct tone and style that complemented each other, the audience responded in a way that elevated the performances of every one of us. We did not want it to end. I realized that I had just experienced one of the musical highlights of my life and many people in the audience afterwards told me that it was the same for them. It was one of those rare experiences that can only happen in the rarest of places and times.

Infrastructure

Last night I dreamed that I was in a sand sculpture competition and my partner was a small child. I remember thinking about what it was that I was going to create out of sand, this big figure, something massive. I strategized beforehand how we were going to get the water to the sand to form the sculpture-the child would fill pots and pans at a nearby faucet and wet the sand as I molded it. Well, the child could not handle the heavy pots and by the time he/she got to the sculpture and me, there was very little water left. There was a body of water nearby, maybe an ocean, but it was dry and we could not get any water in to the pans. The last option was tapping into some other nearby water source and I can remember someone saying to me in my dream, ‘Don’t you know that that water is very expensive?” I scrambled around and when I returned to my sculpture someone else had formed all of these small cake-like shapes with my child partner and said, “We’re done, this is what we made.” I was furious and annoyed at all of the silly little sand shapes, my grandiose sand sculpture unrealized. Going over this dream with Dan at the pool this morning, we talked about what it meant. Last night we were having a conversation with Lorena and Edin, who live in San Jose. They were talking about the scarcity of water and how too much development and greed had compromised the water source. The walk back from our music engagement last night was also very dry. After so much rain and so many muddy walks home, I realized that my regular routes had dried out a bit and were much easier to tread. Then at home, Dan and I had a fight and I went to bed angry and sad. Thinking about all this today I pondered the thread that wove this dream together- infrastructure. Infrastructure is the basic physical and organizational structures needed for the operation of a society or enterprise, or the services and facilities necessary for an economy to function. Our argument was not so unique, as a matter of fact it was a chronic one and centered around tone of voice-Dan- and what is being said-me. Apparently, it doesn’t matter what I say to Dan, if it is said with a certain tone of voice, it immediately puts him on the defense. Unfortunately for me if I am passionate about an issue or feel like I need to raise my voice, Dan immediately turns off and get’s defensive. Not fun. For me, what is being said is paramount. I listen to words, and not only do I listen, but I remember what is said, and I often times take it personally. We learned this about each other at a “Healing From Affairs” weekend, a weekend seminar we took when we were looking at anything and everything to help us on our journey. Brave seekers that we are, when it comes down to it, it all comes back to infrastructure. Is it here? Do we have it? Is it enough? Will it get us through? After fighting with Dan over the same basic things we always get stuck on, I have to ask myself, “ Is the foundation really here, because this seems so lame!?” When in the midst of a fight it’s easy to go to that place where, “Nothing works out, We’re no good for each other.” Who really wants to deal with the alternative-looking at each other in the eye, owning up to our short comings, breathing and apologizing, sitting within the silence of a situation-being? It is not for the tender hearted, but I have never considerd myself tender of heart. After a day of trepidation and tender re-emergance, I can step back and take stock of this man who I’ve called my husband for over 26 years and honestly say, I’m proud of him, I’m hot for him and I’m so glad we can be here together to experience this crazy life. Not only that, but after 26 years there is a certain organizational structure to our relationship that can not be denied, even by me- we have not only existed here, but have thrived as individuals, and the foundation of our realtionship has been established and carefully maintained even in the most difficult of times. Infrastucture. I want to make sure everything is in place so I can realize the “sand sculpture of my dreams” and not lament that it is all small cakes and shapes out of my control.

Minimal

Good day friends of my Songbird. Laura’s husband here to give my baby a rest from her blog. I have seen in person the effort and thought she puts into this so I am glad to try and fill in. After being here a few days it is so easy for me to fall into the pace of this lifestyle. It is simple and pure. Laura’s life here is simple and pure also. There are not many needs. I am taking back with me a very large suitcase of the majority of her belongings. What’s left here will be minimal. A few dresses, boots and flip flops, and her earring tree that sits on a shelf in the bathroom. It’s somewhat of a symbol. Laura has brought so much joy to this small, secluded area. It is a simple life with low stress, low pay and low needs. I feel like an intruder at times here as I am a tourist. And maybe I feel like I have taken Laura out of her game with my presence. I melted in with her days in a way, just playing music and letting her go through her days with a minimum of my influence. I go with the flow as best I can. Having a life partner, there is always an unspoken energy that says “I am not on my own and I need to think about this other person”. Giving each of us space is a balance and is sort of a challenge for me. After all, Laura came here for space. I know when I am home alone beyond being busy with my work I find peace by myself and I try to make the most of my alone time. At this time in our live's with our children more or less on their own it is a whole new world of alone time. Laura has created a very cool space here in Costa Rica and I am so proud of her spirit. This village is unique because you have all of the locals but then the influx of international surfing families from different parts of the world all here to surf. That is really it. Beyond the Yoga institute there is just surf -a few markets and bars- just the minimal. I have been playing a lot of music here with Laura and with many amazing players and I am doing it with a very small hand drum. Creating with this minimal instrument has been refreshing. This seems to be an evolving theme in today’s world. Minimalism. The energy of money and excess the way I’ve seen it is truly over. I feel like the world is in denial. There seems to be no value in money. The banks and Wall Street and the CEO’s are using the same road map now with the bail out money. It appears to me that nothing is being done so it seems inevitable that there will be another crash. Maybe this time we won’t have any means to buy more time in this fantasy world. The physical world that we live especially in the United States is full of selling. Sell, sell, sell, consume, two for one, bargains, advertising, you need this, look who is wearing my line of clothes- it goes on and on. I am being seduced everyday and really every minute of my existence. A friend of mine went camping with her family and upon her return posted on the internet the words, “Simple, Simple, Simple.” Here in this village of Nosara sure, there is some seduction but on such a small scale. As I evolve as human on this planet I will learn minimal. I look forward to this. Lose the clutter and material things I can do without. Be free from the maintenance of them. As I go inward I can adopt this feeling too. Should I hang onto the past? Good or bad it’s gone. There is only the now. It should be simple. I struggle with the past and the future. I worry and I regret. I am learning however that the change is now. I can not keep thoughts or feelings with me that do not serve myself or others or inspire me to be my best. I can not maintain them. I must let go and be my best in this split second. No baggage. Free. Free from seductions and needs. Just breathe. Everything I need is inside of me. Breathe in and out. That is all I need. Now that is Minimal.

These Are The Days Of Miracle And Wonder

I’m lying in a hammock on the front porch of Casa Del Ray listening to Paul Simon’s Rhythm of the Saints on Dan’s laptop, Dan is in his “spot” sitting in a “Tico” rocking chair, the rain gently falling through the palms and trees surrounding the house. We are in a groove here, sleeping late, waking up in the pool, drinking coffee and tea in the shade in rockers and hammocks or in the sun on lounge chairs by the pool, snacking, napping, reading and talking before heading out for our nights of music. Casa Del Ray has been an answer to my prayer for not only space, but peace and beauty as well. Lying here rocking gently in the soft woven, multi-hued hammock I find myself mesmerized by my surroundings- long palm ferns bend over me with the weight of the rain, stalks of bright fuchsia and burgundy leaves sprout from spindly wooden stems, wide green banana leaves act as a backdrop to more shades and shapes of green leaves, red flowers and a canopy of hardwoods towering above. Monkeys play here so do the orange squirrels with the bushy gray tails. Butterflies in all colors and perfectly formed hummingbirds flit about. Almost every morning a bird with the most amazing call I have ever heard wakes us, its single voice sounding like two distinct birds screaming in distress or competition- I have yet to see it. I look away from the jungle on my left to the right and see Dan, skin brown from the sun, dark eyes fixed on his computer. Paul Simon sings, “These are the days of miracles and wonder, don’t cry baby, don’t cry…” I have been crying the past few days thinking about the family of our friends Janet and Gordon, their youngest daughter Isabela, Bela, is in critical condition at a children’s hospital after a blood vessel burst in her brain Saturday from a birth defect that went undetected until now. Isabela is a miracle. She was born with heart problems that required surgery soon after her birth. She not only survived, she thrived and has become quite an amazing young woman with a feisty spirit, creative, sensitive mind and heart and with a unique energy and determination that she brings to everything she does whether it is making her trademark soaps and bath salts, playing the violin, working on a school project, or just hanging out with her family and friends. There is something special about this girl and for those of us who are lucky enough to know her, we know that to be true. I believe in miracles. How else can I explain this beauty that surrounds me right now, the love that I have in my life, my children, family, my life and breath? What else can we do but live in wonder and amazement amidst all of these gifts? Gordon wrote today thanking everyone for their prayers and asking for more prayers for these critical 48 hours. He said, “...Every second of life is a gift…” These are the days of miracles and wonder and I am holding the miracle of Bela in my heart.

Do Over!

The pace and direction of my days has certainly changed since Dan’s arrival Saturday- languid is the word that best describes each days flow. Yesterday Dan turned fifty. He was not particularly excited about it and I think he was a bit relieved to be out of the country away from the attention family and friends would have certainly showered upon him had he been home. To be truthful, I’m not particularly excited about Dan turning fifty either. It just means that in, let’s just say “several years”, I’ll be headed in that direction myself- a place, an age and a time I am not ready for. With everything that has happened to me and my life these past few years, with all of the changes, I’ve had this urge to shout, “Do Over!!”. I have this fantasy that I'm starting all over again- anew - and this fantasy includes many things like a new “unsullied” marriage with a possible baby or two. Why not? John Travolta’s fifty-plus wife just conceived! I could create a whole new family and life for myself if I wanted to. If I wanted to. The purpose of my present journey is to meditate on what it truly is that I want for myself and my life and I’m pretty sure starting a new family is not what I am being called upon to do. Besides, my existing family is pretty amazing. I am sure that regardless of my situation, these feelings, these yearnings are common for a woman of a certain age with grown children and a whole new life on the horizon. I remember when my dad turned fifty. We were living in Los Angeles at the time and I was sitting in our small apartment talking to him on the phone and I remember telling him, “Dad, just think you could live for fifty more years-another lifetime”. These feelings also remind me of how traditional I am- how old fashioned. As much as I can see myself as this trail blazing free-ramblin’ woman, I am drawn to the traditional roles and values of marriage and family and I considered that place a “safe haven” until one day it wasn’t. So as much as I am drawn to this idyllic, romantic fantasy of domestic bliss, I realize that nothing and especially no one is going to provide that for me. So what now? Dan jokingly tells me, “So now the golden years, sweetheart. Plant City Florida, complete with golf carts and all-you can-eat buffets of Friday night” I will not go quietly into that night. I’m thinking more along the lines of more tattoos, a motorcycle, rockin’ the skimpiest bikinis as long as possible, living in a third world country, learning guitar and more languages.

Harmony

Today Dan turned 50 and on his day today, his wish was to post this. Enjoy.

One of my favorite discoveries (besides my passion for the drums and rhythm) in my first 50 years on this planet is the discovery of harmony. This is a big word and means many things to many people. When I hear the word itself I can not define it with one meaning. In fact there would be no harmony without more than one presence. I don’t even know the definition of the word but more and more I try to feel it in my life. My most recent experience with harmony as many would know the word was last night. I was at a small bar in Costa Rica singing harmony with my songbird Laura. I was not sure how involved I would be with her Costa Rica tour but was available and as long as I was supplied rum and some local beer I was willing to join my Laura and excellent guitarist Bill. Singing songs we never sang together before and blending with my Laura in harmony is a joy. I can not put this feeling into words. It’s a ride and journey almost another sense. As I write this blog for Laura I am looking over a hillside. Tree tops and a view of the pacific. Too many creatures to count but all living in harmony. The people of this village live in harmony with this eco system. They live off the sea. They surf, they farm, they love, they deal with Mother Nature on a daily basis. Mother Nature is the melody and everything else is a parallel harmony on top or below. Sometimes everything must stop. That in itself, if everyone stops is sort of a harmony. There are many times in our human experience that there is dissonance, or we are not in a harmony that is comfortable or one that we are used to hearing. As painful or as uncomfortable as this is, this must be part of the journey so we can indeed feel the true harmony in our hearts and our human society. There are wars and waste and anger and sometime the wheels fall off and there is a bombastic crash. Know that this is part of the composition of life. There are earthquakes and oil spills and there is loneliness...There is no time for blame. There is only time right now in this moment to find the right part of a chord that fits and helps heal. At some point we must feel this so we can bring things back together in a non sharp or non flat harmonic parallel. You and I can create. We can have. Together. Harmony.

Do What You Feel

It is a good feeling to wake up next to someone you love, especially after waking up alone for almost a month. We woke up to sunshine on Dan’s first day of his visit with me here in Nosara- he must be good luck because it was the first day of sunshine in a long time. We had to return our rental car by ten so we packed the back pack for the beach and headed to town. After returning the car to Alamo- $50 for 24 hours plus the cost of gas is a good way to go if you don’t mind driving. A shuttle to the Liberia Airport, two and one half hours away is at least $150- we walked through town and grabbed a coffee and baguette at Café De Paris, a restaurant and bakery that sells delicious pastries, croissants, crusty baguettes stuffed with meats, cheese and vegetables and a variety of freshly baked goodies, and headed to the beach. Sunday at the beach, especially when it’s sunny is a local affair, everyone is there. Today the surf was huge and there were too many heads in the line-up to count. We layed our blanket on the sand next to my friends, Catherine and David and drank in the scene. The beach was full of surfers, children of all ages, sun bathers reading, beach combers, walkers and runners. I introduced Dan to my friends as they passed by, inducing some raised eyebrows from a few gentlemen who had assumed I was a single woman traveler. It was a nice way to initiate Dan and a great way to experience the “local scene”something that is hard to do in the high season with all the visiting tourists. Nathanial, from Boston and one of the newly graduated yogis, was squeezing one more surf session in before his departure later in the day and wanting a photo of himself with is surfboard, and without his camera, I offered to take a picture of him with my camera and email it to him later. Nathanial was one of the Zen Café regulars and was always working on some words of wisdom or question. Today he said, “Act your highest good and do what you feel”. I love the fact that here in Nosara you hear things like this on a daily basis. Nathanial is a twenty something man who lives on his own and in order to come here and realize his dream to transform himself into a yogi, he wrote letters to everyone he could think of who cared about him to help him on his quest and here he is. All this made for good conversation between Dan and me on our beach blanket as we basked in the sun. Dan said it is about being honest with yourself and others even if the truth hurts. It reminds me of a prayer I heard at my very first yoga class with Danielle a month ago here in Nosara. Lokah Samasta Sukhino Bhavantu- May all beings everywhere be happy and free and may the words, thoughts and actions of my own life in someway contribute to that happiness and freedom. For me acting your highest good means, “do no harm”, right actions that contribute to happiness and freedom, not pain and suffering. A lot to think about and talk about, but instead we went to Casa Tucan and drank fresh fruit daiquiris and ate a big bowl of fresh ceviche before walking home to more relaxing in the pool and lounging in the hammocks. One thing about love, it will get you out of your head.