I do believe in an everyday sort of magic – the inexplicable connectedness we sometimes experience with places, people, works of art and the like; the eerie appropriateness of moments of synchronicity; the whispered voice, the hidden presence, when we think we’re alone. ~ Charles de Lint
During my last practice in the shala I have a strong deja vu moment. Have I been here before? Does it mean I’m on the right path? Is it a temporal lob seizure or a past life experience? Strange and strong and notable, I’m left to wonder its significance, if any.
My intention today is refreshing and new. Live life to its fullest. Every moment. With Joy. One life, Jodi. This life.
No monkeys today. I was hoping they would come to say goodbye.
I have a good practice. Cucko stops by to show me the scorpion that was on his towel this morning. He had his eyes closed and was drying his face, felt something scratchy. When he opened his eyes, he saw this creature.
I eat my traditional breakfast of rice and beans, egg and toast with coffee. I pack. I think I have too much stuff and I’m worried my guitar won’t travel well. I don’t have a case for it yet.
One more time on the biomat, rubbing Deep Blue into sore muscles. I borrow the sage from the yoga studio to smudge my room, release any negative energy that I may have brought into this space. I want the room to be clean for the next guest. The smudge stick is difficult to light. Everything is so damp here. I get it smoking and walk clockwise through the space, room to room, wall to wall, reaching high into the corners where stagnant energy can linger.
As I return the sage to the yoga shala, I take a moment to formally say goodbye to my hammock, my view, the portal, the yin/yang, the forest, and the trees that have all become my daily companions on this spiritual journey. Each has played their part, and I am thankful for them all, for supporting me, for being spacious enough to contain everything that came pouring out of me these past weeks. All of the joy, and all of the sorrow.
All of it.
It’s time to go. I feel this incredible fear. I am afraid. What if where I am going is more challenging than where I am at? What if…what if…and what if it is amazing? And wonderful? What if that happens, Jodi. Trust. It’s time to go.
2 hours later, through cold, constant rain, we round a corner and come upon a sloth. A sloth! In the road. I have the driver pull over and we escort the little guy off to the side so he doesn’t get hit.
By the time we come back to the car, my hair and clothes are soaking wet. I am grateful to arrive at Lorena’s home in the mountains. She makes me coffee and prepares food. Fried plantains, cheese, and bread. More coffee. Hot, delicious coffee.
Her sister, husband and two children arrive home. I greet them all. We eat together. Her brother arrives, he lives just down the way. The father lives there too, but is at a book fair where he is working, drawing caricatures for the patrons.
These will be my people for the next week. My family. There is no awkwardness between us. I am welcomed with open arms, immediate trust, food, drink, and curiosity. They have never hosted a girl from the States before. This is new for us both.
We make a fire, and begin to share our stories. We play pool, laugh, listen to music, dance. The fear that sat like a heavy stone in my gut the entire ride here is long gone, replaced with warmth and companionship. I am joyous.
Finally, it is time for bed. It’s been a long day and I am tired.
At various points in our lives, or on a quest, and for reasons that often remain obscure, we are driven to make decisions which prove with hindsight to be loaded with meaning. ~ Swami Satchidananda, the Yoga Sutra.