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.