Aimee Loves Brittany (and tortugas) -- Puerto Escondido, Mexico

I love massages.

I love giving massages. 

I don't so much love receiving them. It takes a lot of trust for me to close my eyes, relax onto a mat or a bed and receive a massage because of how I've been molested in the past (three times. Once on a bed in Nice. Once on a massage table in Munich. Once on a couch in Sicily. Two out of the three jerks were professional massage therapists, so I felt like I could trust them. It took until Barcelona for me to work up the courage to tell my Italian host to lay off and that I didn't want to be touched, grazie anyway. Girl doesn't learn her lessons the first time. Ever. Apparently).

But I love giving massages.

And being so disrespected has taught me how to respect the bodies and honor the vulnerability of people who ask to be touched in a loving, healing way.

I woke up at four thirty yesterday morning and fiddled around on my laptop until six, researching yoga for bikers (I've had an Australian couple participate in my yoga class the past two nights. They biked here. Not from Australia, but from Alaska. Which, while it doesn't involve detours to Atlantis, is still a decent amount of epic). As soon as the clock on my laptop hit six, I leapt from my bed like one of Pepe's cats leaps onto my lap when I'm eating a chorizo tlayuda, and sprung (as quietly as possible) over to the coffee pot. I sipped my freshly brewed coffee slow-quickly, because I wanted to savor it but I needed to finish it before six fifteen so I didn't have to pee during yoga.

These are the struggles of a yoga teacher. When to eat/drink so that you don't pass out during class but also when to eat/drink so you don't have to piss all over yourself during class. 

Another line. Ha. 

However, it was Saturday morning and no one came to rooftop yoga at 7:00 am, thus the time at which I finished my coffee was irrelevant. So I Facebooked Brittany and told her I was available to give her an "I love Brittany" massage.

"Aimee loves" massages were invented for my friend Sara. I've had a bit of training in Thai massage and some in therapeutic flying and feel fairly competent and confident in my ability to make people feel good using these techniques. However, although my friend Sara enjoys massages, my friend Sara also adores oil and being naked. Oil and Thai massage are not friends. Sara and being upside-down are, umm... a far cry from chummy.

"Err... well, I want to give you a massage... but... I don't have training in Swedish or Rolfing or Shiatsu or anything else. If you don't like Thai and you don't want to fly... why don't I just give you an "Aimee loves Sara" massage?"

During my time in Grand Junction this October/November, I managed to squeeze in three "Aimee loves Sara" massages. These involve me rubbing hands, feet, back, neck and head with intuition and all my focused loving, healing intentions.

They do not involve one iota of training.

But Sara seemed quite happy with her "Aimee loves Sara" massages.

And Aimee was thrilled to give something that made Sara happy.

When Brittany asked for a massage and seemed less than enthusiastic about Thai, I offered her an "Aimee loves Brittany" massage.

Which I gave her yesterday morning.

She was happy.

I was happy.

She gave me two hundred pesos.

Whoa. I just made four days of rent. Giving a massage to a beautiful person. Could life be better? 

The answer to that question was an emphatic yes.

Scott Ridley sea turtles came to lay their eggs on La Escobilla beach yesterday afternoon. As Pepe had to stay at Casa Kei while Maestre Reyes built the new treehouse yoga room, he told all three of his workawayers to head to the beach and watch the turtles.

"I wish I could go. Seriously," Pepe surveyed the ongoing construction. "But I have to stay here with these guys. Otherwise they could leave."

Ha. Mexico. The place where your employees only stay there if you're around to keep an eye on 'em. 

So Joy, Vajra, Samantha, Tomo and I boarded the Gran Papi Pirate bus (hilarious) bound for Pochutla and disembarked at La Escobilla.

After a good deal of walking and confusion regarding whether or not we were actually allowed on the tortuga beach (there were military personnel avec large weapons blocking the way), we ended up at a promising looking restaurant behind a church where turtle guides seemed to congregate.

It was a roasting afternoon. Joy and Vajra took turns fanning us with their hats that cost 50 pesos but created a priceless breeze while we waited for out turn with the tortugas.

After what seemed like seven forevers (excessive heat tags an extra forever or two onto everything) , we climbed into the back of a truck and jolted, jostled our way down to the beach (waving and laughing at the men drinking cervezas whom we'd passed by two times already).

On the drive out, we discovered that the only two others accompanying our group on the tour were from the same small Swiss town in which Joy was born.

The small Swiss town has a grand total of 2000 people.

What are the odds?

Not large. Those odds are definitely not large. 

It was late in the afternoon by the time we finally set foot on the military guarded sand.

The turtles were few and far between...

But the turtle action we did see is something I'm going to remember for at least five forevers.

For the first time in a long time, I felt fully silent.

For the first time in a long time, I noticed all the things I overlook when I move too quickly.

I'm someone who learns through making connections and comparisons between nature and my life.

And nature is like google. Or worse. It's so big and full that you can find whatever answer you need or want whenever you need or want it.

I believe nature just helps me to understand what I need and want.

The bumblebee on Vis Island. The big fat bumblebee that taught me to be mindful of my feet and the ground.

The stick in Bratislava. Rumble, tumbling down the stream. Getting stuck in an eddy. Not knowing which way it was going, getting tremendously nauseous (sticks get nauseous too), but being moved along the current despite its discomfort.

Like how deep a footprint melts into the sand.

And how the waves melt back into the print.

For the first time in a long time, the crashing of the waves, the thudding of hooves, the salt wind off the warm Pacific and the glittering orb behind the glistening blue seemed to meld and harmonize instead of create clutter in my brain.

I paused more often then not.

Took pictures of things that interested me and no one else.

the footprint of a barefoot horse. The V is called the "frog" and it's what pumps blood back up a horse's leg. Perhaps this is where our image for a heart comes from (totally not, but I'm allowed to make wild conjectures whenever I so please. It is my blog, after all). Horses have heart feet when they don't wear shoes. 

These turtles are a beautiful reminder to just move more slowly. 

Move slowly and persistently. 

Especially when out of my element. 

The next big step of my journey is returning to GJ, Colorado to be with my boy for two months. 

 And GJ. Is not my element. 

And neither is having a boy. 

(I've already signed the boy up for walking across Switzerland and buying my father multiple cups of coffee. I told him about these things today (after the signing up had happened). He was a good sport, but mentioned that in the future, I might like to run things by him first. This confuses me. Being a girlfriend, in and of itself, is confusing for me. "You mean I can't just tell my friend that we're going to live with her for the month of September? Why not? You have a real job? What's a real job? Commitments, shommitments. Who needs those things?")

Nothing that makes me feel attached is my element. 

And having to ask before I make a major life decision is SO far removed from my element. It's like, on another planet. Actually taking active responsibility for the fact that my decisions have a huge impact on the life of another person whom I happen to care for very much indeed. 

Scary stuff. 

So.  

This is where I need to stop thinking about flow. 

And just think slow. 

Move softly. 

Sensitively. 

With heart feet. 

This turtle had injured its back legs and couldn't make it up the beach. Vajra is a healer and focused lots of love at the sad, exhausted lady (he wasn't allowed to physically help her along). However, on the way back and under the cover of darkness, Vajra lifted the turtle and gently set her down further up the sand hill. Vajra is the best kind of healer, I think. There's all the loving energy and the loving action. 

No privacy. Not even a little. 

Come on, guys. Seriously? I mean, laying a hundred eggs after scrambling up a steep beach is not exactly a pleasant swim along the California current. You could at least give me a wee bit of privacy. Feeling a little vulnerable here. 51 eggs down, 49 to go. 

After the turtle finished laying her plentiful white eggs (only one in every hundred survive the perils of young turtlehood, so there's a solid reason for the mass amounts of huevos), she packed down the sand with her flippers. The front flippers flipped the sand up and -- floop -- back and the back flippers pound, thump, thwacked the sand flat.

"Compacto," the turtle man who helped us past the gun men informed me.

I nodded knowingly.

"Si. Compacto."

Dogs and birds find the turtle eggs rather delicious. Mama turtle has a hella lot of work to do compacting the sand enough to keep away the ravenous street dogs.

Returning to her element.

I wonder if this is how I will feel

When I board the plane for Guatemala 

This May. 

Or when Troy and I hop on a plane for Europe together.  

(After he finishes up all his silly shommitments in Colorado, that is)

We'd missed the last bus back, but the Swiss couple happened to have a large truck and Casa Kei happened to be on their way home anyway, so they offered us a ride.

Joy and Vajra sat in the cab and talked about Swiss things.

Sam, Tomo and I sat in the bed and looked at the stars.

Well... the money from the "Aimee loves Brittany" massage didn't go towards four days of rent... but it did just give me an afternoon on the beach with turtles. 

This. 

Is how I want to give and receive life.