Hug Ninja -- Vis, Croatia

It's Tuesday.

It's 12:55.

Eggs are on the stove.

Paint is on my fingers.

Construction workers are filling the pool with water.

Gardeners are digging trenches for the irrigation system just outside my window. .

I find a moment of silence to prepare myself for this evening's routine.

I'll teach yoga from four to five. I'll give massages from five to five thirty. I'll put willing participants upside-down from five thirty to five forty-five. I'll help lead meditation at six. I'll participate in evening reflection at eight.

It's Milda's birthday. I stayed up late last night to paint a butterfly card. It made me happy to realize that even though I don't have extra money to spend on gifts, a small painting is always something I can give. And small paintings are usually appreciated because people realize you took time out of your day to paint.

Also, a painting the size of a postcard doesn't add much weight to your life. This is something I try to think about when I give gifts.

Is this a gift that will make his/her life unnecessarily heavy? 

American pancakes are about as common in Europe as Vinyasa yoga (so not very), but are much more popular (immediate deliciousness as opposed to immediate anguish helps them out in this regard). People love the chubby, hearty pancake as a variation of the standard crepe.

So I made Milda pancakes. American pancakes.

They were chubby. Chubby and delicious and topped with powdered sugar and strawberries.

I'm almost finished with this situation. I've been in Croatia for less than five weeks, but it feels like five months. At least.

So much has changed. So much has developed. I don't like saying that I'm a "different person" because I believe that the core of who we are doesn't change. The core just is... no messing around with the essence of Aimee. But so much has... has been stripped away. I move like a different person, react like a different person, LOOK like a different person (hey there, body hair). Four weeks of wearing guru shoes (and being barefoot) has changed the way I walk. 

And I think my posture is much better now. 

Jurate and I have developed a routine to help manage our stress levels in positive ways. We set little mantras for ourselves every morning.

"I had terrifying nightmares as a child. One of the ways I coped was to visualize a beautiful dream. A place I would love to be. Then I would imagine standing at the edge of a cliff with my feet pointing in the direction of that beautiful dream floating in a calm sea below.  I would close my eyes and hope that when I fell asleep, I'd fall into this beautiful sea instead of the hellish, raging nightmare over my shoulder. This is how I view setting a mantra in the morning. If my mantra is "let yourself be loving" or "enjoy the moment",  I'm pointing my feet in the direction of the beautiful dream. I understand that things happen. An earthquake or a hurricane or a super-nasty person could push me off the cliff and into the nightmare (or I could trip over my own two feet), but the point of the matter is that I set my toes in the direction. Then I let go and let life happen."

"What's your mantra, Aimee?"

"What's your mantra, Jurate?"

We're so stinkin' hippie. WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?

I feel peace about leaving this place. At the end of most placements, I'm desperate to move on. To try something new. To feel the freedom of movement.

But finally, finally, at this moment, I feel content. At this moment, I feel like no situation is inherently worse or better than any other. If I approach softly, slowly with a beginner's mind, I can learn everywhere I go. If I can listen to life's lessons through the unique ups and downs of every placement -- if I can manage to not leave before I've left -- then I'll be able to flow naturally and with equanimity.

Which is great.

An up about this placement is all the touch. I touch through massage, through assists in yoga, through flying and through heaps of hugs after practice.

And heaps of hugs in between.

I relish/cherish every touch I feel. I pounce on every opportunity to steal a hug. In fact, if I catch myself leaving the room in the morning without taking advantage of Jurate's hug, I'll stop in my tracks, tiptoe back into our shared space, wrap my arms around my friend from behind and whisper, 

"I am the hug ninja."

She giggles. I giggle. We relax into this rejuvenating touch.

I'm glad her mantra is "enjoy".

I read through some journal entries from a few days back. I think I'll post snippets here (although I'm sure anyone who reads this blog already has a very firm grasp of how my brain works).

~

Only a few more days of the retreat. I'm so happy and sad and nervous. I'm starting to worry more and more about hitching. What will that entail as far as a bed goes? As far as water goes? how will we get in and out of big cities? I'm worried about making it to Bratislava on time. It would be pretty damn sad if we weren't able to arrive on time for my acro yoga training. The ice cream store would be closed and I would be an unhappy panda. Pandapandapanda. 

I wonder what these three ladies will be able to do in class today. I still feel so awkward around them. But this is my issue. I need to get used to teaching people older than myself. More experienced than myself. Once again, my lenses are different so I have a unique experience to share. 

I wonder what Milda and Mario will pay me for my work here? I'm really not in a state of mind where i care too much for money. I'm just fine with having enough, and I've learned that as long as I say it's enough, it's enough. It doesn't take more stuff to make enough. It takes a mind that lets go. That needs less. If you approach enoughness by needing less, then you'll surely have a full life. If you approach enoughness by cravings -- to satisfy some manner of emptiness, then you will never be full. We become what we dwell on. If we are seeking things and experiences that make us "enough" we are telling ourselves we are empty. We are lacking. We are not enough. 

Whatever it is, it is enough. 

~

It's difficult to feel like a disappointment. I don't know how to cope. I don't know how to cope most of the time, but I somehow manage. I'm not sure how, but management does seem to happen. I am able to get through. Perhaps not with flying colors, but I can get through. I wonder what would have happened if I had gone to see George now instead of last June. How would the experience have differed? would I have been okay with his brusqueness? Would I have been better at tolerating the loneliness? Or would I have stood up for myself and left even earlier? 

What have I learned since George? 

I've learned to listen more. I've learned to be less sensitive and I've let go of my need to make an impact on the world. Let go of my need to be remembered or anything like that. Helps me enjoy the moment in a way I really couldn't before. 

I can't really enjoy the moment if the majority of my time is spent focused on how I'll be remembered. 

Ha. I'm always so critical of myself.... so afraid to take risks if I think about the future. Of what someone will say next year, next decade, next generation.

But I no longer feel the pressure of "should". Letting go of making an impact really has minimized the use of "should" in my life. Which I find particularly liberating. 

I can enjoy painting without worrying about needing to write (although I sometimes worry). I can enjoy writing without worrying about needing to practice a foreign language (although I sometimes worry). I am giving myself the gift of peace of mind when I relinquish my need... my desire for remembrance. 

I can be an invisible person. 

I can pass away unnoticed. 

But my life will not go unlived.  

~

I love this meditation thing. I love it nearly as much as this yoga thing, as a matter of fact. I love being able to share my musings in such an honest way with people who are so receptive. I love exploring different techniques that allow people to find peace. I'm so damn happy that I asked if I could help out with this class and that Jurate was so open to all my suggestions. 

But I feel burned out. Oof. I'm honestly nervous about getting through the day. How will I manage? I will. I simply will. When I'm present, I can work with people and with myself. The morning's class will be a lot of flow. A lot. We'll breathe together for a good portion. Basic. Basic with airplane. Basic with warrior two. Basic with warrior two and half moon. Basic with warrior two and half moon and triangle. 

Oy. Hard week.. Beautiful week. Why do hard and beautiful so often come hand in hand to me? I use those words together constantly. Blurgh. Let life be soft and beautiful, Bourget. 

~

I sometimes feel as if I'm putting on a show. No. No, I generally, usually, always feel as if I'm putting on a show. I don't exactly practice most of this mindfulness business. I mean, I've pointed my feet in that direction, but the wind definitely blows me back and forth, around and around, willy-nilly more often than not. I see to live in a bloody hurricane.

I didn't even go walking this morning, for pete's sake. I can't practice, but I share revelation after revelation as if I were already this enlightened guru who has so much wisdom to share that she just can't keep it in. 

It takes so little to ignite my feelings of self-pity. It takes so little for me to start waiting... to start living as if I've already left. It takes so little for me to think, "Why did I decide to come here?" Am I just super lazy? Is everything an escape? Do I want to learn or do I just not want to work? Do I want to meet new people or do I not want to meet old people? Do I want to find peace or do I want to avoid conflict? Do I want to share yoga or do I simply want to share my practice? What is the difference? 

I hope that what I have to share will be available for the people at this retreat. I hope they can glean something from what I have now, in this moment. I just feel like I have so little to offer. 

I have little to offer, but I do make a habit of offering it all (for better or worse). Perhaps that's something that makes my gift special. It is usually whole.