A New Gift -- Lake Atitlan, Guatemala

I'm starting this post from Circles Cafe. I've got my pink MM earbuds in and my music cranked UP because the most offensive chap of all time ever is chatting with a moderately less offensive chap behind me. While I like to think I'm an open-minded lady, I don't exactly enjoy the way they're talking about female anatomy and how to get more intimate with it on a more regular basis.

I don't wish them luck in their endeavors.

I'm hunched over a small table, furiously slapping white-striped mosquitoes and wishing that I had a proper chair upon which to sit... instead of three tuk-tuk tires bound together with twine. These are the things that a tourist finds novel and romantic at first --

"Tuk-Tuk tires! Ah! How delightful. How quaint! How positively not American!"

And then one spends three hours hunched over, writing a blog and Skyping one's boyfriend. And one begins to find tuk-tuk tire chairs significantly less delightful.

It's Friday afternoon. I have three more classes to teach at The Yoga Forest. Three more salads to prepare with filtered water, kombucha vinegar and whatever vegetables Petrona and Angela (the kitchen ladies) will let me run off with. Four more Skype dates with Boy (hopefully) before I take the boat to Panajachel and then an eight hour shuttle to San Cristobal de las Casas.

My feelings about leaving this place are absurdly mixed. On the one hand, I've experienced some beautifully uplifting community. On the other hand, my work schedule has been very demanding and my intestines have spent more time in an uproar than... umm... just peacefully passing on my poo. And a busy schedule in conjunction with peevish innards has rendered it tremendously difficult to actually take advantage of the beautifully uplifting community. When I'm not teaching yoga, leading meditation or making salad, I'm either sleeping or talking to Boy. Period. I simply don't have the energy or the space for anything else.

It feels a bit bizarre to be skedaddling in four days without having experienced a single night out with the other guests. In fact, if I stay up past eight o'clock to participate in a bit of after-dinner drumming, it's a freaking miracle. A miracle comparable to parting the Red Sea or turning water into wine.

The lunar cycle of May 18th - June 16th was not an easy one for the resident yoga teacher at The Yoga Forest. As I believe I mentioned earlier, there are usually several yoga interns to share the... ummm... not light work load. But May is a slow month, so just about everything fell to me. The salad making, the toilet checking, the shala maintenance and the yoga teaching. May is also the beginning of the rainy season and the month wherein most people get direly, dismally, despicably ill.

I've been sick three times during my four weeks as resident yoga teacher. Diarrhea, nausea, body aches, cough, fever and projectile vomiting plagued me for approximately two and a half weeks. Hence, I've only felt happy and comfortable being in my body for a week and a half of my stay here. The rest of the time, I've been pining for my own bed, a hot shower, Boy's cuddles, my mom's tea and a toilet close to my bed.

I actually had a dream about an ensuite toilet the other night. It was one of the best dreams I've ever had. And one of the most disappointing to wake up from.

I've spent some time here and there complaining about my persistent illness and feeling a bit disgruntled and overwhelmed by the hefty schedule... but in the end, this experience is probably exactly what I needed.

Physically.

Spiritually.

Mentally.

Emotionally.

As Boy can attest to, I was feeling incredibly anxious about coming to The Yoga Forest. Leading vinyasa flow sessions, thai massage and acro yoga jams are the places I come alive as a teacher, but restorative yoga and meditation are very far removed from my comfort zone. I've led both before, but never regularly and certainly never with a smidgeon of real confidence (this is where my degree as an actor comes into play). However, I want to be the kind of person who teaches yin, mediation, vinyasa, thai and acro.

So I put myself in a situation where I had to explore all five.

If there had been other teachers available on a consistent basis, I probably would have given in to my insecurities and sloughed off the majority of the restorative classes to my poor yoga interns. But I had no yoga intern (although a permaculture intern led a few classes for me -- god bless her muddy, hippie wellingtons), so I had no choice but to work through my insecurities and step outside of my comfort zone.

I taught classes whilst holding in an impressive amount of liquid poo. I taught classes whilst holding in coughing fits. I taught classes whilst feeling like all the vegetable curry I had for lunch had migrated to my throat and was desperate to continue its migration onto the wood floor of the yoga shala.

And I'm glad I suffered through a menagerie of ghastly bacteria and repugnant parasites (in retrospect. I would have never said this in the moment. Ever. What I said in the moment was a menagerie of four letters words/"Iwantmymomandmyboyfriendandafuckingflushingtoilet"). Being so ill helped me to fully understand the beauty of restorative yoga. And after four weeks of teaching yang in the morning and yin in the evening, my body doesn't even feel balanced unless I do both.

So even though it would have been an easier, more pleasant experience had the load been lighter and the explosive diarrhea been less frequent, I wouldn't have learned what I needed to learn. I'm leaving The Yoga Forest this Tuesday feeling stronger in my body, more confident in my teaching and deeply appreciative of a style of yoga that hardly interested me before. But now I understand the healing power of yin and I have another gift in my backpack. Another tool that weighs nothing at all and can bless so many people.

A gift I now feel confident in giving.

I'm leaving The Yoga Forest this Tuesday with a better understanding of permaculture principles --

Meet Harry, new permaculture instructor at The Yoga Forest. He's rather delightful. I wish I could stay for another month to participate in all his classes. 

I approve of his chicken drawings. 

 -- with new friends literally all over the globe --

 -- with an even greater desire to one day have a cat named Montezuma --

This is Marni. I love her. I will one day live with her in New York and teach her yoga every morning and cook dinner with her every night. Also, I have named the grey kitten Sherlock and the grey and white kitten Montezuma. We'll see whether or not the names stick. 

 -- and I'm leaving The Yoga Forest this Tuesday with a routine that I'd like to keep in my life for as long as possible. Morning pages. Vipasana meditation. Mindfulness walks. Vinyasa flow. 

And a gentle, restorative session in the evening. 

This month has been a lesson in self-compassion. In letting go of expectations. In remaining calm, centered and focused even though 107 percent of me just wanted to curl up in a ball and bawl my eyes out. 

I've loved my time here and I can honestly say it's been one of the best volunteer experiences I've had thus far -- in spite of all the illnesses. I've learned an incredible amount during my time here and have met some astonishing people. But I'm ready to leave this Tuesday. My physical body needs a lighter work load (and more access to cheese and bacon) and my emotional body just needs more alone time. 

San Cristobal, here I come.