Down the Rabbit Hole -- Vis, Croatia

Writing has been difficult lately. I've found myself following distraction after distraction down the rabbit hole. Avoiding blogger.com like Domagoj avoided me after I lost my bananas over his ecstatic use of the word "nipples" in a beginner yoga class. I've found myself not wanting to write because I don't have pictures to share. Not wanting to write because I've been sending people upside down all day and am utterly (happily) exhausted.

Not wanting to write because this seems to be turning into an "Aimee's personal revelations" blog, rather than a travel blog.

Sometimes it feels very pretentious to write what I write.

And then I settle into my, "why would anyone want to read this junk?" funk.

And I just don't write.

Which causes me to settle into a bit of self-loathing for not writing.

So I avoid blogger.com with the intense resentment with which I avoid dairy-free cheese.

Which is a god-awful lot of resentment. 

I leave the desk. I make coffee. I sit back down. I stare. I browse yoga journal. I walk to the fridge and see if I have any cheese left (the real kind). I sit down and glare.

This is just my season. I'm sure I'll have something different to share at the next placement. I'll have more funny stories and less tedious soul-searching. I'll have more travel tips and less "OH MY GOODNESS, I HELPED SOMEONE TOUCH HER TOES!" 

But Bourget, this is your life in this moment. Go with it. Just like how you only took pictures of ducks in London because that was your experience. This is your experience in Croatia. Let it be what it is. 
  
I'm learning how to go with the flow and listen to my surroundings in more aspects of my life than just travel and blogging. I've noticed that each retreat has brought out radically different facets of my personality and I've allowed these faces to surface without judgment. It's been an interesting experiment to kind of sit back and observe what other people are able to conjure out of me. A lot of what's been summoned to the surface has caught me entirely off guard.

The first group hauled up buckets of mindfulness, play and joy. The second didn't require a lot, but would pull up a pail of carefree fun every now and again. The third was its own strange animal and definitely stirred the waters and surfaced with heaps and heaps of humility. The fourth?

Free for all. Play, play, play. This group of six women from all over the world is hilarious and excited and eager to try everything I have to offer them.  I've flown all but one and have given massages to three. They get taxis to town to buy ice cream and organize excursions themselves when the weather gets nasty (and the weather has been insistently, consistently nasty). They purchase wine and chocolate and sit around the table and chat about anything and everything until all the wine is drunk and the chocolate is something they stare at with the "I shouldn't, but I want it soooo bad..." look in their eyes.

They even managed to get me tipsy the other night. I haven't been tipsy in ages -- not since Maud and I surreptitiously sneaked (THIS IS A WORD) a bottle of rum into Harriet's alien house last March. I'm someone who drinks socially because I find wine something nice to share during dinner, but rarely/never indulge on my own. I haven't had occasion to drink socially since March, so I simply haven't.

But I was sitting next to the Irish woman last night and I'd forgotten that it's part of Irish culture to never let a neighbor's glass get less than half full. I'm in the habit of drinking to the halfway point (to show that I approve of the drink and the company) and then waiting until I feel ready for the next glass to continue on from there.

The Irish have this insidious, discreet habit of pouring your glass (without asking) as soon as you get to the mark of "I approve of this drink and this company".

It's a gesture that seems to say, "You approve, do ya? Well, go on and prove it then, why don't ya?."

I love this generous gesture. However, this gesture is the primary reason my first hangover was acquired in Dublin. One loses count of how many drinks one's imbibed when required to count by halves (especially after one has drunk one too many a half).

I was exhausted the other day. Mentally, emotionally, physically. I've felt so much stress about being the only teacher at this retreat and worrying about whether or not participants will benefit from what I have to offer that sometimes I just feel like shutting down.

Shutting off.

Holding everything inside.

But the women entered the studio giggling.

That's odd,  I thought as I considered the way most practitioners immediately come quietly to their mats and start centering themselves for their practices -- resting in child's pose, rolling out the spine, etc.

*giggle, giggle, chuckle, chortle*

I... have a feeling this will be an unusual class. What can I do with this good natured energy? How can I use it to create a fun, loving space? Which is all I really want to do in yoga, anyway. 

One of the students piped up, "It's a good thing none of us are too serious about the spiritual part of yoga. No serious yogis here."

I responded with, "It's a good thing you weren't staying during Domagoj's week." And then proceeded to tell them about touching nipples, engaging vaginas and menstruation of the goddess.

We laughed the entire hour away. It was an unusual class... but it was a natural class.

"Well..." I chuckled, "I suppose this is my first venture into laughter yoga."

This group is dipping their bucket into my core and reeling up all-out Aimee awkwardness, unabashed joy, spontaneity and a very new kind of courage. This group is helping me to learn that if I keep myself open, listening and compassionate, I can give a bit of something to everyone.

This is some of the feedback I received: 

"Aimee is great.
I would like to come back if she will be at the villa another time.
she made yoga fun and safe. "

"Absolutely great, excellent! Give me more! The flow could have been with increasing speed (not sure if applicable)"

"Excellent pace for beginners. Aimee taught to everyone's comfort level. She was very supportive, yet, gentle. Very funny and welcoming."

My main worry when commencing this retreat was that I would be unable to make yoga safe and keeping accessible for beginners. My students in Grand Junction were primarily intermediate practitioners, few had injuries and most were very athletic. I didn't have to worry about modifications or contraindications. I just had to flow.  The fact that I was able to make yoga safe and fun at everyone's comfort level... AH.

I have no words.