Panama!

Its been a while since my last installment. This is more due to the fact that Ive been finding the internet connection here extremely slow on the singular computer that is shared between staff and guests here at the hotel. In addition to the general unavailability of the computer, there is the problem that when it is available, the keyboard is arranged for german speakers and the keys tend to stick so one needs to pound on the keys with extra force in order to make it work. Its a hunt and peck situation, folks.
On this lazy afternoon in the tropics I have a few minutes to relate some of my journey since leaving Nicaragua two weeks ago. The journey in itself could really be a blog entry. It was an epic 36 hours between leaving Inanitah and arriving at Hotel Hibicus Garden, my new home. Check it out at: www.hibiscusgarden.com . The epic part was really two boarder crossings, one into Costa Rica and one into Panama. On a bus, everyone needs to get off the bus, stand in line at departure country to get stamped out, walk down the street to the next countrys boarder crossing, get stamped in, then take our luggage off the bus and pass it through security before getting back on the bus to get on down the road. This process took about 2 hours in Costa Rica and about 3 hours in Panama with 50 people cycling through together. Mind you, I had my backpack and a massage table with me as luggage, which made the transport a bit more of a challenge. I found myself carrying the table on my head across bridges, streets, and through bus stations alike, often being heckled a bit by bemused locals.
Once in Santiago, I was met by two of our staff members, where we spent the day doing grocery shopping and other random chores in the big city before heading down to our little haven on the beach. The drive down is about 2 hours normally in the 'flying sausage' van. Named so because it has flying sausages painted on the outside, or did, until Mick recently had it painted white. I think I preferred the character of flying sausages to white unmarked van, but not my call to make. Anyway, flying sausage got a flat tire on the way back home, not surprising due to the nature of the roads here and by the time we arrived I had a full blown fever and went right to bed.
Two days later, I emerged from my feverish state, head clear, and began to have a look around me. We are in a place called Lagatero, which is a bay on the southern coast of Panama. It is about a 10k drive to the larger ocean with real waves and lots of surfers. I discovered why its called Lagatero when I went jogging on the beach one of my first mornings after recovery. Lagatero is the Spanish word for Alligator. I found a dead one on the beach! Big one, maybe 6ft long. I told Mick at breakfast about my discovery and he sent Adan and I on horseback to retrieve the head to make alligator tooth necklaces! This was super cool. Adan weilded a machete and cut off the giant head, which probably weighed 15 lbs. or more and tied it onto a rope which he then tied to the saddle of my horse. So, I got to drag a giant alligator head down the beach by horseback. This was a lot of fun, but kinda tricky because I had to steer clear of getting it caught in driftwood or brush while it bumped along against the surf. The next morning Adan tied it up to a tree and about 100 or so vultures held council around this great feast, divying up the goods. I am looking forward to wearing an alligator tooth necklace when the head has fully decomposed and no longer smells of death.
What else? Lets see...I am doing a few massages on guests and staff and teaching yoga at a hotel in Santa Catalina where the beach is located on Tuesday afternoons in a beautiful treetop studio.
Im working kitchen shifts 6 days a week in trade for my room and board and having a good amount of time each day to reflect, read, relax and melt into a hammock. Its a really sweet way to spend winter.
Ok, more soon. I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season. I turned 37 here last week, which was quite, sweet, and the chef made me a lovely coconut, pineapple, rum cake which was amazing.
Love to you all. Write and let me know how you are...

Days Between

Waking up this morning, I heard an old argument going on in my mind. It said that morning meditation was happening NOW (as dictated by the gong sound down at main camp) and if I wanted to join in I'd better move it. My head was swirling with dream images and lost in a world of disjointed emotion and memory. My body still half asleep, bladder full, eyes open but turned inward I searched for my journal to write down the dreams and flashlight as it was still dark (5 a.m). The ancient argument was between my movement being dictated by a gong and the imminent beginning of a group event of which I wanted to take place or allowing my movement to be organic and in accordance with my inner timing and flow, which would most likely cause me to miss said meditation. The "outer world" movement was tainted with a pang of guilt, reminding me that I had requested this specific meditation the night before and how "bad" of me not to be present for it. It was also coming from a place of habit. Deeply ingrained as a child that when I was woken up, I had to get out of bed shortly thereafter to go to school. I remember my parents frustration at the snooze button on the alarm clock being pressed again and again by my sister and how I tried my best not to provoke the same frustrations when it was time for me to go to school. Getting up at a predisposed time because I was trying to please someone else. That is the habit.
The inner world told me to let it all go and that nobody would be bothered or upset by me taking the time I needed in the morning to wake up the way I want to wake up. The "inner world" voice was also concerned with pleasing others. Interesting. It then told me that it was OK to rebel against the structure set up around me and that I was prepared to accept any consequences of not following said structure. The rebel and the good girl having it out in my head at 5 a.m. How many times have these two had it out? They play against each other, polarizing my personality in seeming antithesis. Furthermore, the dreams I'd had alluded to a time in my life as a teenager where I was in full rebellion mode and that little rebel had the good girl tied up in a closet only to be let out between the hours of 7 a.m and 3 p.m for school and on family holidays. She developed some interesting habits at that time that would do me good to re examine, but that's another blog.
Upon noticing the internal chaos, my guru came in and settled the disharmony by reminding me that my deepest commitment at that moment was to loving myself, and from there, it became very easy to choose the following actions: I allowed that space/time to empty my bladder, scribble notes in my journal, and lay back down to comfortably meditate on my own process. I could hear the screaming going on below as they were practicing OSHO's dynamic meditation, which includes a releasing of held emotional energy by vocalization. It pierced through my heart. I woke up fully (around 6 a.m)...spending time arranging my belongings, and being peacefully present with my own voices, emotions, and judgments.
Here I am a few hours later, realizing that I have only 3 days left at Inanitah before heading off to Panama on Thursday morning. In these next few days I am going to focus on opening up space in myself, in my body, in my heart. Getting clear. I no longer have to have such a strong focus on holding space for others the way I have for the past 2 weeks in class, the way I have for the past few years in session after session of bodywork. The focus can shift freely from one place to another without greediness or urgency or desperation. I will be giving plenty of massages and space holding for others over the next few days, but the bulk of my energy can focus on self love, joy, and the adventure of living.