Throwing in the Towel

I'm in an antihistamine haze. After a sleepless night of constant itching, tossing and turning due to an allergic reaction to something that manifested itself into a head to toe body rash,  I broke down and went to the doctor today who gave me a shot of antihistamine in one thigh and a steroid in the other. The crazy thing about this is is that Dan has the same thing. He started itching Friday night as we were playing at El Chivo and after our first set he was convinced that he was being eaten alive by sightless bugs, critters, or whatever else lurks here in the jungle. After inspecting him in the light of the next day, I determined that he did not have bites on his body but an all-over rash. It wasn't until the next morning that mine appeared.

I've been thinking a lot about how I take care of myself and the wise messages my body sends me unbidden or not. The months leading up to coming here I was recovering from a slew of maladies that started with a chest cold, moved to pneumonia then onto a positive test for mono. "Hello Laura, this is your body...WTF??"

The thing is, I don't really like to talk about this stuff. I have a few trusted souls that will actually listen to me and the stories I wouldn't generally share, and one of them is my wise teacher Al Bailey. He has a way of putting everything into perspective in a sentence or less. I was on his table not long before coming here and I meekly gave him my recent diagnosis of having the Epstein Barr virus and mono and he said, "Man...they got a name for everything."

Yes, I understand that to try and name and label everything that happens in my body is a fools game. When Al said that to me my entire body sighed, "Ah ha!" I aspire to listen and allow, but sometimes its easier said than done, especially when your face and hands are swollen beyond recognition. Still, Danny has chosen to allow and let the reaction take its course and he seems fine.

There is a part of me that is so invested in the strong woman persona that I reflect out into the world, that makes it hard to admit that I'm weak and I need help. Today I threw in the towel. The drugs made me sleepy but that is exactly what I needed. I awoke as the sun was setting and joined Dan on our tiny veranda for a cold drink and a chat before moving inside to cook some chicken and coconut rice for dinner. Sleep is calling me.

I am grateful for the wisdom all around me and for discernment. Somewhere between allowing and breath, western medicine, the sea and the sun, my healing is here.

Free

I have been taking classes at the Harmony Healing Center since my arrival with the exception of one transcendent Kundalini class last weekend at the Bodhi Tree Yoga Resort. Dan came with me and we walked the beach for an hour from our nest in Pelada to the brand new studio in this stunning resort. As soon as we settled on our mats the rain began pouring down on the jungle over palms and trees and all the sounds around us became hushed as we awakened our life force through breathing and movement under the wise guidance of Shivanter.

Most of the time I am trekking off to class by myself  happily lost in the magic of my surroundings knowing Dan is just fine. I bought a five class pass at Harmony Healing Center to get me started, basically because they offer some nice easy flow classes and also because its closest to my home. My first class was a "Honey Flow" class taught by Ashley and five minutes in I had a new teacher. Ashley teaches from her heart and breath and depth of her being. She is hands on and her knowledge comes from her bones...a Nosara Goddess.

I always give myself extra time when I am walking so I can rinse off the sand from the beach, change and cool down, but this day I had almost 45 minutes to spare because I had the class time wrong. I settled on my mat and let my mind run. My body was feeling tense and achy from not sleeping well on the ancient mattress in our casa and as I lay there I clearly heard my mind say, " I am always in pain." As soon as I said that tears sprang to my eyes. Then I mentally stopped myself and said (internally) "Really? How are you feeling right now?"

With that my tears stopped instantaneously and I began a scan of how I really was feeling in my body and guess what? Aside from some tightness along the back of my left side, I felt pretty good. After five minutes of sending some deep breath into that area, I realized that at that moment there was no pain in my body. What I was telling myself subconsciously was just not true. I am not always in pain, but apparently it is a story that I have been telling for a long time.

When I focus on the facts of what is happening in the moment and nothing more, I become free. Free of my stories, free of other peoples stories about me, free of my projections into the past and future, free.

Free.

Gratitude and Self Sufficiency

Even though I am in a country that doesn't recognize our American tradition of Thanksgiving, it seems no matter where I am or what I am doing, on Thanksgiving my gratitude practice becomes an endless mantra. All day long my focus is turned toward gratitude...thinking of all of my people, my ancestors, my surroundings... and then look, I have hands that can wash these dishes, a bed I can take a nap on, a phone to text my mama and peanut butter.

On this Thanksgiving after talking with my beautiful daughter in Europe and sharing messages with my son in Brooklyn, after holding down the home front while Dan was out in the jungle taking care of business, after playing to a beautiful crowd of people enjoying a home cooked feast at Kaya Sol where I met people from my home town...at the end of it all I was struck with an overwhelming sense of gratitude for self sufficiency.

I have watched in amazement as Dan has navigated this terrain since our arrival, identifying our needs and going after fulfilling them with a vengeance. We now have our own small sound system that will enable us to work anywhere and we can work anywhere because he also found us a used quad, a four-wheeled mode of transportation favored by locals, to get us from point A to B, all in nine days. He has hopped into cars with strangers and walked the dusty roads on his quest for these things that will hopefully bring us closer to a point of self sufficiency during our time here in the jungle.

Tonight we traveled to and from our gig riding our newly acquired vehicle, me sitting snug behind him with my arms wrapped tight around his waist my backpack on my back full of equipment and my guitar and his drums tied to the front and back racks with ropes and bungees. The way home was guided by the moon and the summer breeze cooled our faces. I leaned forward and spoke in his ear, "we can go anywhere with this."

Sinking In

As I sink into the familiar rhythms that guide, inform and inspire my daily life here, I am aware of how different it is to be returning to a place that feels so much like home to me with someone else. You see, for the past five years I have been traveling to this lush jungle village on the Guanacaste peninsula almost every year for months at a time, alone experiencing moments completely unburdened. Doing anything by yourself that is without fear and motivated by heart and passion, curiosity and love is like giving yourself a precious gift that can never be taken from you. Some of the most profound and joyous moments of my life happened here with only nature as my witness. "The joy of love is possible only if you have known the joy of being alone, because only then do you have something to share."

This time I am sharing my journey with my partner of 32 years, Dan and the newest love in my life, my fearless 8 lb. rescue dog, Deva Om. What I notice most for me is that this new experience in this most familiar place only requires one thing, more breath. Now I am not the only one to consider when making choices about the days journey...my rhythm and time need to make space for someone else's rhythm and time and the best way I know to make space for anything is to breathe.

We've fallen into a nice daily flow. Dan usually wakes before me as the howler monkey's beckon, Coffee is on when I roll out of bed and I wrap a sarong around me to join him on our little covered porch outside the kitchen door where there is a small table and two chairs. Deva sits on a cushion on the tile floor and we drink coffee quietly gazing at the endless varieties of flora and fauna surrounding us. Sometimes we each pull a few tarot cards that spark conversations about deeper things...longings, visions, questions.

This is the first time Dan has taken this much time and space for himself. I half jokingly told several friends before coming here that this trip would either make us or break us. I can already sense how important this is, for both of us. 

I Choose Heaven

I am back in what I call my spiritual home, Nosara, Costa Rica. There is always a dance of letting everything go as I journey from my home in Eastern North Carolina to the outer reaches of this lush beach side jungle in Playa Pelada. Not just the daily routines filled with creature comforts and instant gratification, but the letting go of accumulated stress from working too much too fast, from making choices that may not serve my body and busy mind... from any preconceived ideas about anything.
The ride from the airport in Liberia became my initiation. I had thought that I had arranged a private van to transport me, my partner Dan, my dog Deva Om and all the accouterments one needs to live and play music and write in the jungle for an undetermined amount of time. Basically, a lot of stuff! Lo and behold, our chariot was in fact a shared one with four fellow travelers including one woman journeying with a household of belongings. She was moving here permanently from Canada and altogether our belongings filled the entire van before we even tried to squeeze in. The driver was visibly stressed while tying to communicate his strategy to us which we didn't really understand and then he jumped in the van and drove away. With all our "stuff." He eventually returned and we found a shelter to park under because it was pouring rain so he and Dan could load all of the luggage and boxes onto the top of the van and then secure the mess with one tarp and one rope. It looked like a Dr. Seuss-mobile tilting ever so precariously like the huge reindeer antlers on the tiny head of the Grinch's dog. We had to stop several times to adjust the rope and tarp, but everything was getting wet even though we were only driving 40 miles an hour. I was really feeling for the driver. None of this was his fault, it was clearly a miscommunication. At a certain point early on it seemed like all of us decided wordlessly to become joyful; in our interactions with each other, with the taking in of the natural beauty unfolding before us; the roosters, children on bicycles, fruit stands, dirt roads and potholes, skinny bridges spanning rolling brown rivers, mountains and palm trees. We connected, laughed and eventually made it safely to our destinations... a bit weary and wet.

The days since my arrival have been filled with myriad choices on how I can perceive my reality. All the things that can happen here and do, can really trip you up; forgetting my umbrella on my walk to my first gig and getting drenched in the rain and having to play the show soaking wet, slipping on the jungle path and falling into a pit of mud, fire ants and funky smells outside my bedroom window and that just scratches the surface.

It fills me with gratitude to know that it is my choice at how I see and experience what is happening to me here. I can choose heaven or hell and the doors to each are not far from each other and reside inside me. I choose heaven.

Hidden

The hidden behind what the eye initially sees is an ongoing theme for me. As days extend and time stretches here in the languid lushness of the jungle, I can feel my senses sharpening and everyday something new reveals itself to me.

When I first arrived in Nosara I could hear the the deep guttural growls of the Howler Monkeys everywhere I went, but I could not see them through the layers of verdant vegetation. Then one day as I was just sitting in my small studio, looking out at nothing in particular, an entire family of frisky howlers appeared before me, methodically picking and eating the leaves off of a nearby tree. Ever since then I see them everywhere, everyday. It's almost like I've been sprinkled with magic dust so that I can see things no one else can; lizards camouflaging themselves in a perfect shade of brown to mimic the hand-hewn logs holding up the corrugated plastic shelter at the Surf Dog Cafe, tiny ants in a line carrying neon green leaves twice their size to an undisclosed location, bright red crabs hiding in the brush on the beach path, the growing of the plants outside my door after 24 hours of rain.

Yesterday I went to the beach during high tide and walked south for as far as I could. The waves were coming in fast and choppy, the sky clear and blue with no sign of approaching afternoon showers and I had the beach all to myself. When I turned around I noticed the tide had receded and there ahead of me were my beloved tide pools. The were completely submerged just an hour ago and now ready for me to soak in the calm waters resting in the stone.

Most every night after I climb up into my comfy loft and turn the light off, my ears begin tuning in to the sounds of the jungle at night. I'm not so enamored with some of theses sounds because they are the sounds of creatures who are scuffling around on the rooftop right above my bed and sometimes it sounds like they are inside my casa. Last night as I was reading on my little couch before bed, a little black creature scurried in and disappeared. I was comforted only by the fact that in no way could this creature make its way up my ladder and into my bed! I do feel safe and before my eyes close I gaze out into the night as my vision adjusts to the darkness and I listen to the monkeys, rain and wind in the trees.

Things hidden can be frightening or enlightening depending on how you look at them. Tuning in to all of the frequencies around me I am opening myself to a world of possibility and in that opening I am also vulnerable. It scares me sometimes but then I think of all the things I would miss, heartbreak and healing, monkeys and tide pools.

Control, Turning In and Rebel

My friend Jane has been craving Coq Au Vin so we made the trek into town on a mission to find chicken. Nosara proper is about eight miles away from the beach, but it takes almost thirty minutes to get there because of the road conditions. The main form of transportation seems to be motor bike and it's not unusual to see a family of four including little children, sometimes babies, crowded onto one as they navigate the treacherous terrain. Jane has an SUV that complains audibly as we dip in and out of craters and enormous puddles. Life expectancy for vehicles here is short.

The Super Nosara is a huge store that is housed in what looks like a gigantic tin shed with concrete brick walls. It has every single thing you could want and at the best prices. It's dimly lit and laid out in no particular order with nary a sign telling you where anything is so I wander down each and every isle like its a new discovery and it is.

Everything has to be improvised in a jungle kitchen. Invariably you are not going to have the perfect pan, the required spices or the correct oven temperature. I eventually figured it all out and before long savory aromas were wafting from the cocina. While we waited Jane brought out some Tarot cards and after shuffling, cutting and concentrating on picking the perfect cards I drew three that were supposed to signify my past, present and future. I picked Control, Turning In and Rebel.

I was happy to see that control was in my past! I know there is a time and place for control, but to strive for an ordered and perfect life leaves no room for spontaneity and more importantly to me, vulnerability. I learned to let go of control the hard way and maybe the way most of us do, by having something happen to us in our lives that we did not plan and had no control over. When you hold on so tight to your beliefs, or people, or things, its so difficult and painful when change occurs.

When I checked on our dinner after almost two hours, things were not moving as planned! The vegetables were still hard and the chicken was tight on the bone. I realized that the shallow aluminum pan that we were using was not working, so I pulled the entire dish out of the oven, juices spilling everywhere, making a huge mess on the floor and in the brand new oven. Determined to remain positive, a smaller pan was located, the meal divided into more manageable portions, put back in the oven, mess cleaned and disaster averted!

Back to the cards, I looked at what was to signify my present state-Turning In. Ultimately turning in, in this sense means taking a distance from the mind, just watching. Pulling this card means one is ready to do that and says that all the running and scrambling towards fulfillment and desire only creates frustration and misery. "All journeys are outward because we are already in."

I think this idea of turning in is really resonating with me here this time around. My last visit to Nosara I spent two months searching, questioning, thinking and running toward what I can now see was an escape from my life. Almost three years later I'm a lot less anxious about having everything figured out. My life is my life, a beautiful mess of family, love, music, friends, nature, knowing and not.

Looking at my future card, The Rebel, brings an immediate smile. I don't even have to read it, I just want to be it! The card says the rebel is the master of his/her own destiny, possessing the light of hard earned truths, a messenger between earth and sky, an upsetting force. One who lives their own truth.

As I bite into a delicious morsel of perfectly cooked chicken, dipping a piece of crusty bread into the pan juices, a glass of crispy white wine at the ready, I feel myself grateful and completely present at the table, that is until my mind goes back to thinking about my future self.........

Can I get a rebel yell?