The Language of Smiles and Eyes and Laughter

Today began like most, with coffee and conversation on the little deck outside our kitchen door. We perused the property we are staying on for the perfect furniture to make our little covered corner a perfect sanctuary and found a few dusty leather and wooden handmade rocking chairs two small foot stools and a round cast iron table. I always travel with table cloths, extra linens and sarongs to drape over everything and after cleaning the furniture and covering the chairs with soft bright sarongs and the table with a happy green printed cloth our cozy corner was complete. Our dog, Deva, sits on a cushion on the ground between our rockers surveying the grounds for errant squirrels and pozotes, which look like a cross between an anteater and a raccoon, but are vicious with a big sharp hooked claw on the end of their feet. I have to be careful and make sure Deva doesn't chase down the wildlife. He's only 7lbs but he thinks he's all man.

Today we had every intention of going to yoga together, but ended up walking the beach, coming home and making love then hopping on the quad to run a few errands before coming back and going back to the beach. The tide was out and the tide pools were full of crystal clear water that reached my chin in some places while standing on my toes. The pools between the rocks are narrow and the bottom is soft sand. Today I could follow the channels between the rocks almost all the way to the mouth of the sea. I soaked for hours and played with three young girls who clung to me with complete trust sharing with me their beautiful smiles and happy brown eyes as I played with them in the water. We sang songs and floated together and when big sister Luna came to take them back to shore we had a group hug. Suspended in these prehistoric pools today I had the realization that this is indeed one of my most favorite places in the world; in that water, between those rocks, on that beach, under that sky.

Its strange to think that I'm feeling like I haven't found a rhythm here yet. I'm finding how different it is to be here with a partner and as lovely as that can be, I also have all these "ways" of being and doing here when I'm alone, which has been my experience here. So, I'm dropping the past...at least trying to. While I'm at it, can I drop my expectations too? Expectations about how much yoga I should be doing, how much time I should spend writing, playing music...why do I do that to myself?

I have no idea how things are going to unfold here  I own nothing, I have no commitments to anything except playing music here in the jungle twice a week for the next month and a tentative hold on a hilltop casa until April. To release any anxiety that arises when my mind starts asking, "what are you doing with your life?" I started thinking about everything that I am doing as a prayer.

"Hear me, I am offering my song here and my heart with the utmost trust that this is where I should be. As I move through my days here, guide me, show me where I can be of service... show me the way. Thank you."

I'm pretty sure today that meant holding the sweetest brown bodied girls in a crystal clear tide pool where the language of smiles and eyes and laughter prevailed.

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.

Garlic and Butter

There is a huge palm tree trunk right in the middle of the main beach and everyday I come I see that the trunk is never in the same place. Sometimes it completely parallel to the sea making a perfect seat for sunset and surf gazing and then other times it is perpendicular to the sea forcing us to step over it as we make our way up and down the shore. I expect to come one day to find the tree has gone out to sea where maybe it will float onto another tropical paradise to serve as a seat, shelter or food for bugs there.

Guiones Beach at sunset is to the Outer Banks Beaches during a benefit surf competition. Everyone you know is there. I set out this afternoon after sleeping late-9:00 am- and hanging out at home all day while it rained nonstop. I cooked, read, wrote a little, napped and after watching at least six monkeys eating leaves on a nearby tree, I roused myself from my daze, threw on some cutoffs, cowboy boots, slung by backpack on my shoulder and headed out.

The rain had miraculously stopped so I decided to walk the beach to the first of my desired destinations. I was on a mission to rent a movie, get online (I haven't had internet in three days) and eat pizza. Stepping onto the beach through a clearing in the jungle, I navigated a small river that was making its way from jungle to sea by walking on the heels of my boots and then headed north on hardened sand just out of reach of the incoming tide. I picked up shells as I walked and stopped to talk to three locals who were, I discovered, digging little mussels from the sand and placing them in plastic bags bulging with the little treasures. Waves were double head high and the surfers looked eery cutting in and out of the gray water against even grayer skies.

Even though there was no visible sign of a setting sun through the deep dark clouds, the usual crowd of locals gathered anyway, a true testament to the importance of this community ritual. Walking the beach I like to look everyone in the eye, smile and say, “hola!” Everyone looks familiar because I am walking everywhere, every day and I get to witness the workings of daily life here. Several people who were at the Gilded Iguana last night stopped me to say they enjoyed the music and I talked to a young man I met last night who is working on his singing. He gave me the name of a song that I am going to try to learn for him so that perhaps he will sing with me.

Continuing to move with the ebb and flow of life here I am like that tree trunk on the beach, not quite sure where I'll be tomorrow, but imagining the possibilities of those tender treasures just beneath the sand....with garlic and butter!

"Be"

Emma, my 19 year old niece who died suddenly just two weeks ago, had a document tacked up on her bedroom wall that included two columns; Life is About and Life isn’t About. Under each she outlined in great detail what those meant to her-  Life is about: Helping those who need it, Protecting the earth, Creating, Living for today and Loving. Life is not about: Being caught up in the past, Waiting around, Being selfish and Wishing things were different.

In her bedroom there was also wall space painted with chalkboard paint where she very artistically wrote, Be. I don’t know if it was her favorite word or her mantra, but I like to imagine that when she woke up each day in her bedroom full of visual and spiritual inspiration, she would see that word there and it would inspire her.

Today was a "Be" day here in Nosara. With the stress of last night’s gig behind me- it’s hard to believe I actually stressed about it.... it was relaxed, I did fine and people seemed genuinely appreciative- I gave myself permission to sleep late, staying in my dream state until thunderstorms coaxed me out of bed close to noon!

Moving with no plans,  just “being”, I prepared beans, rice, tomato salad and some kind of pumpkin for a later meal. Jane invited me to come on an afternoon outing so I hopped in the car with Jane and three friends and headed to the property of a man who runs a sort of superfood mecca from his home.

Driving in and around Nosara is not for the faint of heart. There are really no roads to speak of only stretches of gravel, dirt and mud riddled with huge holes and crevices. There are also no shoulders and at times it seems as if you’re going to topple right off into a roaring river or deep gulch full of who knows what. We spent about twenty minutes navigating this madness until we reached our destination.

Pulling into a lush yard full of tropical vegetation, coconut and banana trees, I noticed a huge organized pile of raw coconuts, looking like cannon balls, waiting to be processed next to a bunch of roots I couldn’t identify. Skeins of bananas in varying degrees of ripeness hung from the rafters and a refrigeration unit on the porch outside the entrance door held bottles of mysterious concoctions while clean floor rugs beckoned us to remove shoes and step inside.

Just inside the door there was a wooden table crafted from the trunk of a tree where we gathered to sample and taste todays offerings. There were juices fermented and fresh, good for cleansing and daily drinking, spicy roasted coconut, dried banana and guanybana, organic chocolate and delicate oils for the body. Behind the counter were floor to ceiling shelves stacked with jars and bottles full of mysterious ingredients. Glass fronted refrigerators revealed rows of bottled juices and potions. Bob Marley was everywhere, on posters and t-shirts hanging on the walls.  Thank you letters from school children filled an entire door.

As we gathered our purchases I toyed with the pronunciation of guanaybana, a tropical fruit loaded with vitamins and reported healing properties, which in Spanish sounds a lot like the word in the Muppet song, monomena (bu be ba dipee), so of course I had to sing it and was promptly joined by our host and we sang together joyously a few times through even though everyone else in the room had no idea what we were singing!

I left with six homemade juices, chocolate, dried banana, coconut and body oil and an appreciation for the wonders of the jungle and the people who carve out such creative existences here.

Back at home, Jane and I took Charlie, Jane’s amazing dog, to the beach for a walk and a game of throw the stick. I shared my dinner with Jane and now I am enjoying the complete quiet of the night save for a few insect chirps and random monkey howls.

Just Being.

Think Less, Feel More

I’m trying not to think too much, but it’s not easy especially when I look back at the past few months and everything that has transpired; a move into a new home, a hectic summer of non-stop work, travel, a tragic death in our family and now here.

I can give myself some “slack” some understanding and know that it may take me awhile for me to become centered in my new environ and routine. Gabby asked us yesterday, “Why did you come to class today?" And then said," That is your intention,”

Why do we do what we do? In this moment I am still slightly scattered with my intention to being here in Nosara. Taking a personal inventory I note: I am here to recalibrate my physical body- there is something about my life here that seems to always bring me to a more vibrant, balanced physical place. I am here to work on my music, to become more independent with my performing and songwriting. Nosara has always been such a gracious and welcoming audience. It’s the perfect place for me to delve into unchartered territory and feel loved while doing it. I am also here to expand my writing and begin the outline of a book I’ve had in my mind and in various notebooks for some years now.

So these intentions are what I need to focus on, what will guide me and then I’ll see what happens from there.

In class today we were instructed to bow our heads to our heart center- to let the heart lead. Tonight I played my first solo gig ever to a very welcoming audience. Now on this still evening with the sounds of the jungle lulling me to sleep, I will add to my intentions to think less and feel more.

Namaste

Practice Makes Teacher

I woke to the sound of rain bathing all the layers of the jungle canopy and bouncing happily off of the metal roof of my rancho. A soothing lullaby through the night, I’m told the rain is necessary now to assure the upcoming dry season will have enough water and electricity.

The sun was just beginning to rise as I carefully navigated the small ladder leading to the ground from my loft bed. Every inch of space is precious in my little nest. As I made my coffee I put aside the urge to question what in the world I was doing up so early! I really love sleeping and can usually only be roused from my dreams by my lovers hand holding a steaming mug of coffee and almond milk under my nose.

It would’ve been easy to settle back in and listen to the jungles music, but my commitment to a daily yoga practice while here in Nosara was calling so I made my preparations, packing my backpack with rain gear, sarong, notebook, glasses, sunglasses and money, layered my yoga clothes over a bikini, put on my cowboy boots and started out on the long walk to Harmony Hotel.

Our instructor Gabby has been happily settled in Nosara for some time now. Originally from Costa Rica, Gabby lives life pura vida style, teaching yoga and Pilates, surfing and sharing her love of life with those fortunate enough to enter her orbit. As young as she is Gabby is such a natural and enthusiastic teacher, who incorporates simple lessons, humor and artful demonstrations in her 90 minute classes.

Lying on Emma’s yoga mat, my eyes full of tears, I was feeling emotional at the beginning of our practice , but soon fell into the rhythms of asana, breathe and laughter. Using English and Spanish Gabby showed us how our posture mirrored how we lived our life, hunched forward-in the future, leaning too far back-in the past, standing straight, spine and neck long-voila! Here and now.

She said a lot of funny things like “Friday Night!” when our tailbones were stretched to the sky in downward facing dog. I’m not really sure what that means but It made me smile. She said something else that sounded a bell as soon as I heard it. “Practice Makes Teacher.”

We all know the saying “Practice makes Perfect”, but does it really? How could we ever reach perfection? Isn’t there always room for some kind of improvement? Some kind of transcendence in anything we endeavor to do? When I think about perfection it seems so final to me.

I’ve been repeating the "practice makes perfect" phrase lately as I have been working on my guitar playing. It never ceases to surprise me that I actually do get better the more I play. Even so, I can’t imagine ever saying, “Wow, I’m perfect at this!”

Practice Makes Teacher resonates so much more with me because not only is what we practice and how we practice a teacher to us in so many ways, we can always share what we know, even if it is a brief insight or small detail, thus becoming a teacher ourselves.

Tomorrow night I will play a solo gig with only my guitar and voice at the Gilded Iguana in Guiones Beach. It will be the very first time that I perform solo in my adult life-ever. I’m nervous about entering a whole new dimension, but grateful for the opportunity to challenge myself and to continue spreading my wings.

 Friday Night!!