Happy Lobster -- Split, Croatia

Jurate gives me so much. She's continually presenting me with oranges and seems surprised when I say "no, but thanks" after consuming my third orange for the day.

I'm a lady who never craves fruit in the morning. I'm a lady who craves protein in the morning.

This morning, I was absolutely desperate for an orange. Desperate, I say.

Jurate, what are you doing to me? Gah!

When I see Chipotle, I think of my little brother and his addiction to their gigantic burritos. When I see chicken tortilla soup, I think of that one recipe that my mother made. Three times a week. When I see chicken galanga soup, I think of Janet.

When I see oranges, apples, or pears, I will FOREVER see Jurate.

"You want a fruit? No? What? Are you sure?"

Jurate gave me a gorgeous piece of jewelry she made from the beads of an old grandma necklace. She gives me hugs every morning and asks me how I slept. She buys extra coffee and is always interested in listening to my stories as we sip our steaming mugs.

She gives me relaxation massages and cuts my hair by the sea.

Milda's younger sister flew into Zadar late last night (to lend a couple of much needed hands at the last retreat), so Mario and Milda and I took a long, luxurious detour to pick her up from the airport.

If I overheard Mario correctly, this is the first church in Europe to be built entirely of stone.

The first day of the last week of retreat starts tomorrow. I'm going to miss the tranquil island of Vis, my cheerful partner in meditation and being able to teach what I love on such a consistent basis -- but I feel ready to move on to the low-stress volunteer situation in Solin. In yoga, we are taught to play our edge, and although this past month has shaped me as a person and as a teacher in profound and (I feel) positive ways, I think that it has been beyond my edge. Playing so many vital roles has left me feeling stressed and overwhelmed -- especially when I don't have enough time to take my barefoot walks and reconnect with myself.

It's worthwhile to go beyond our edges every now and then for it's only when we go beyond that we identify where the edge truly lies. But the moment we discover the definitive lack of ground beneath our feet (it's amazing how long it takes some of us to notice that we're treading air),we melt down to rest and regain our breath. Once our breath has returned to its natural rhythm, we find our flow, gifted with a new awareness of where we are in that moment.

Where am I now? I think I'm in a place wherein I can happily lead bunches of optional yoga classes, weekend workshops and long retreats wherein I have loads of support and am working as a member of a dedicated yoga team. At this moment in my life, being a solo yoga teacher at a retreat is beyond my comfort zone in a way that isn't healthy for growth. It's like being out in the sun for two hours and turning into a lobster instead of going out fifteen minutes at a time and getting a healthy tan. I'm a lobster right now. A happy lobster, but a lobster nonetheless.

I will regain my breath in Solin. Regain my breath and allow my body the time to de-lobster.