The Ocean Won't Dry -- Puerto Escondido, Mexico

I'm starting this post from the checkered table of Casa Kei. Two Spanish acrobats discuss their plans for travel, I sip on a fresh "coco", Liz works on a painting and Pepe flutters about, attending to the needs of his new guests.

Well. Perhaps flutters is a strong word. I don't believe anyone in Puerto Escondido is capable of true "fluttering". Puerto Escondido is a land of moseyers. Of amblers. Of meanderers and dilly-dallying hippies.

I felt like I was a fairly slow mover (according to American standards...). And then I came here. And still find myself a tad surprised when Pepe taps me on the arm as we scuff through the sand and reminds me to take it easy.

"El mar no se va a secar."

(The ocean won't dry)

Maybe this will be the place that slows me down...like Devon. Devon slowed me to an absolute crawl. 

It wouldn't be such a terrible thing to learn to mosey again. 

I'm so happy to be at Casa Kei. To no longer be a part of The Sanctuary and participate in awkward morning meetings wherein we all sat in a circle and tried not to volunteer for work. We would look at each other and away and down. Then Pete or Noa would inevitably turn to Juan (a university professor from Mexico who speaks poor English) and say, "Juan? Will you dry out the cow dung for the morning meditation?"

Juan would always nod his head yes.

And I would always feel bad. But not bad enough to volunteer to dry the cow dung.

When you feel like you're being taken advantage of and sucked dry, you start conserving energy. Feeling protective of your resources. Feeling resentment for every bit that's taken from you. . I don't mind chores and I love helping out, but I didn't like putting my energy into a place like The Sanctuary. Where locals were expected to volunteer their labor (or fired right before Christmas) and employees weren't even given their Christmas bonuses (something expected in Mexico) until they asked for them.

This place gets no more of me. 

I'd originally planned on living and volunteering with Pepe, but continuing to teach at The Sanctuary. But after I heard the Christmas bonus story, I decided I wanted to give that business no more of my energy.

Minerva said something to me once that resonated profoundly.

"Aimee, you have a lot to give. But you need to make sure that the people you're giving to will continue to give. The gift can't stop with them."

I feel like I owe the universe a lot. A lot, a lot, a lot. I owe the universe for Jonas' kindness when my 300 dollars were stolen. I owe the universe for Cathy's kindness in filling her fridge with cheese and noosa yogurt and letting me live in her spare bedroom for a month and a half. I owe the universe for Janet and Dave and Troy and --

-- and I want to be giving back something.

But what am I giving to? 

I don't feel like The Sanctuary passes on the energy of its volunteers. But I feel like Casa Kei does.

This place is WAY more healing and restorative than "The Healing Haven." This is where I want to put my energy. 

Pepe cracks open a "coco". With a machete. Like a real man. It is my new goal to learn to use a machete like a real man. 

Liz works on her koi mandala. 

Mexican spices/sauces that make everything better.

The coco. I like that it has scruff. And is so delicious and refreshing. And costs about a dollar. Things like this make me want to live in Mexico forever. 

Pepe's cats scare off all the spiders. And cuddle all the guests. They're kind of perfect. 

 I'm finishing this post from the same checkered table.

It's been nearly 24 hours since I left The Sanctuary.

Girl's got no regrets.

Pepe took me to watch a sunrise this morning over La Barra.

(we made Casa Kei coffee to go)

This was my sunrise.

It doesn't need words.

"What do you usually have for breakfast?" Pepe asked after we'd returned to Casa Kei.

I glared at him.

"Let me rephrase that," Pepe laughed. "What would you like to have for breakfast?"

"Not a smoothie," I said.

"I usually have eggs. Do you want some eggs?"

"Pepe... I would love some eggs."

It's juice fasting day at The Sanctuary. It's eggs and coffee at Casa Kei. I feel like this is similar to Eddie Izzard's options of cake or death. Which I'm sure Pete does as well. But we just have very different ideas as to which is cake and which is death. Life lesson: always be on the same page about which is cake and which is death. 

Lunch was chorizo tlayuda at Amoki. I met with "my people" from The Sanctuary and chatted about goings on.

Goings on = mass exodus. Only one or two volunteers plan on staying.

And while it is somewhat validating to understand that I'm not the only one who feels the experience was disappointing, it is somewhat heartbreaking to see such disappointment.

But it's also inspiring to see that these sassy ladies (and Clinton) don't take no shit, either.