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.

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.

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.

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?

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!

Trust Part II

Toady I spent a good hour playing in a tide pool with a seven year old boy. He spoke very little English, and I very little Spanish, but somehow we managed to communicate. I learned about his family, the fish he and his brother were catching, pelican eggs, words for cooking and night, the name of his dog and much more. We skipped rocks and laughed, I shared my dried bananas with him and we counted the fish his older brother reeled in. I felt giddy like a girl and the tide pool was so fresh and clear and deep enough to swim underwater with my eyes open and float on the top.

Life is unfolding here, taking shape. I am feeling a sense of trust that this good intention, my good intentions, to work here, to become a part of the community will create work for me and a safe home to live in while I'm here.

There was a time in my life where my perceptions about trust were completely attached to my  primary relationship . I was so involved in my life as a wife, mother, professional, daughter, sister, etc. that it never occurred to me to stop and think about what I was doing, where I was going and who I really was. I way too busy doing it.

When my life as I knew it turned on a dime and left me with no solid ground to stand on, nothing to trust, I felt like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, far away from home and desperately trying to find a way back.

Not trusting anyone around me including myself, I set out on a journey to put back the pieces of my life that remained and build from the smoldering ashes (I'm not kidding, ask me about it sometime) something brand new.

This brand new might look scary to some because it's ambiguous and mysterious, it flows and moves and can not be predicted or tied down. I really don't know what tomorrow is going to bring me. I can think I control various parts and people in my life, but in reality, I control nothing. There was a time when that would have been paralyzing to me, but looking back I see I was paralyzed.

I want to float in a tide pool and feel the south wind move my body through the water and trust in myself to know I have what I need, especially the ability to create whatever kind of life I want.

My Tide Pool At Sunset

Trust Part 1

Early this morning I went to the local weekly organic farmers market. I can't believe how lucky I am to be able to trod down my jungle path a short distance and step into a veritable feast for the senses. There underneath a rustic structure constructed of tree trunks and palm fronds, vegetables, fruits and all kinds of farm stand offerings both familiar and not, were grouped in bundles and piles on tarps all over the ground and all around the perimeter on rough hewn planks supported by makeshift saw horses.

Papayas, plantains, citrus and squashes lay next to stacks of brown eggs, purple roots, perfectly ripe tomatoes, avocados and watermelons. There was  fresh coconut juice right out of its shell, cups of cool ceviche, tropical baked goods, sweet and savory and steaming cups of organic Costa Rican coffee. What to do? Keeping in mind that I live in a tiny studio with a just a little bit larger than dorm sized refrigerator, I filled two small cotton sacks with freshly hulled speckled beans, tomatoes, oranges and limes (to mix with my rum), fresh basil, tiny yellow squashes, an avocado, onions and strange looking purple tubers.

Once everything was back in place in my casa, I prepared for my yoga class and hit the trail again. I ended up being the only student in class today so my instructor, a beautiful 29 year old dancer and yogi gave me a totally personalized experience. She told me moved here two years ago to dance. Imagine that? Moving to a remote, tiny jungle community to dance. But that is just what she has created for herself. She teaches dance at this studio and at the local school here and told me she was involved in putting together a performing arts group for students- the first of its kind here. Before teaching yoga this morning, she choreographed a routine to "Thriller" with a group of local parents who are going to "flash mob" their kids on Halloween!

I'm inspired by people who trust in their gifts and carve out a creative existence no matter where they choose to land. The more I think about trust and faith, or more importantly, the more I engage in trusting myself, others, my surroundings and circumstances I can see how wanting to dance in the jungles of Nosara is no big stretch at all.