"Como te llamas?" they ask whenever they see me.
"Aimee."
"eh-may?"
"Aimee."
"Eh-Muh."
I shrug, accepting whatever vowels they decide to give me. As "Nele," the German girl does whenever I butcher her name.
"Can you say your name again for me?" I ask her.
"Nele."
"Nay-luh?"
"No, Nele."
"Nee-luh?"
And she shrugs her shoulders and smiles. Letting me know that I haven't quite gotten it right, but that she's not going to make a big deal about it. Which I'm sure she's used to doing.
A group of Belgians just stumbled up the hill, panting heavily and sweating prolifically. Wearing shorts and sports bras.
They. Will be devoured alive, I thought in alarm. Even though the daytime weather of Guatemala is quite toasty, I never wear shorts. Or my sports bra (by itself, at least).
Ever.
I usually wear long sleeves, long pants, and boots. I would much rather melt into a puddle of stinky sweat than blow up into an itchy, pink bug bite.
A light breeze brushes against my cheek. Sunlight speckles the leaves overhead. Indie sits in the corner, basking in the morning warmth.
The smell of eggs makes my empty stomach rumble in anticipation.
I've been losing weight. Not only are the stairs sculpting my ass better than Michelangelo sculpted marble (David ain't got nothing on this shit), I have been reduced to two vegetarian meals a day. Else my stomach is forever a restless, bloated ball of fomenting gaseous fury. So I eat breakfast at 8:30, have a cappuccino for lunch, and then eat dinner at 6:00. My poor, grain-ridden belly can't handle any more than that.
Bre (like the cheese. At least I can say her name) served the Belgians some steaming lemongrass tea, and now they're sitting around and sharing life goals, travel plans and such. As one does here.
I love that this is the kind of space that leads to important questions. That creates such openness. Such immediate openness.
I led my first mind-dump style meditation a few days ago. In my notebook, my cramped hand furiously scribbled, "I feel like my thoughts are flowing too quickly to work with right now. One flying after the next in such quick succession that each thought seems like a half thought. That's what my life feels like some days. A half life. A half baked something or other. I begin in one direction but another idea, another passion barrels into me and I'm redirected. Am I afraid of finishing? Or... am I afraid of never starting? Never exploring that new idea, that new passion. Not giving every single part of myself the chance to be examined. Maybe it's a bit of both."
I wrote yesterday that a dramatic change would need to occur in order for me to stay here. Especially with all my other passions calling me. Loudly.
I believe that dramatic change happened last night. In the form of a new manager, a German fellow named Jonas, and Michelle, his Swiss/Australian girlfriend from the circus. These two exude community. If that's a possible thing to exude. They're also committed to giving us volunteers more of a voice in our lives here. We will get to design the schedule ourselves, picking the shifts that work best for us. We can also branch out to help in different areas, which is what I'd originally wanted when I contacted The Forest a few months ago. I'd like to create a position for myself wherein I photograph guests and trainees, interview them, and post the short interviews with a couple of photographs on The Yoga Forest's facebook. We also discussed how to advertise myself as a massage therapist and artist.
Although I haven't got my oils with me. Just these watercolors, which I don't exactly feel comfortable with...
I attended a writing workshop yesterday, led by a British chap named Nial, a work-exchanger at Circles. The workshop took place in Eagle's Nest, a small portion of Fungi Academy (you can guess what they do there).
The view was spectacular.
Most creative endeavors in San Marcos la Laguna commence with cacao. And Nial's writing workshop was no different.
Kayla chopped cacao and brewed a massive pot of the thick, fragrant, heart-opening, hippie beverage. She was especially fond of her whisk. And demanded a picture posing with it.
Remember. It's a secret. It's a super secret. Should you share this super secret, Kayla has made it clear to me that she will find you. I asked what she would do to the people she finds, and she said, "I'll leave it to their imagination."
So. There's that.
And here's this: Kayla's Super-Secret-Amazingly-Spectacular-Orgasmic-Englightening-Cacao-Concoction
Water. Lots of water. Kayla lost count of the cups, so she can't really confirm the exact amount.
Cacao. An abundance. So much cacao. Usually a block is for 12 people.
"How much is a block?"
"I don't know, grams and shit is on the internet."
Boil lemongrass and panela. In the uncertain amount of water. Once water has boiled, remove the lemongrass.
If you prefer sweet cacao, add more honey and/or panela.
If you want something to hit the bloodstream faster, add cayenne, turmeric, ginger and cinnamon. You can also add medicinal mushrooms. Not the crazy kind. Can add orange flavor. Two drops. Because it makes the cacao oily and greasy.
As the final hippie culinary note: lots of love. And sun. And other hippie rigmarole. Like gratitude. Drink an abundance of water after (this can be served with or without love/sun/gratitude). Don't drink if you have heart condition, depression or are of the canine/feline species.
I found the final exercise of the writing workshop the most interesting. Primarily because it showed me what clear direction I have. Which is something I rarely feel.
Our prompts were the following:
a) What would you congratulate your future self on?
b) what achievements would you mention?
c) what vision do you see?
I gazed out at the lake as the sun drifted down behind the mountains, leaving a pink hue lingering in the sky, like a final breath.
Congratulations for finding honest peace. Not peace through escapism. Not peace through denial. Honest peace. You can feel comfortable examining every bit of your heart. You've cast out, dissolved any dishonesty and delusion without yourself. And are just... at peace.
You've found a place you fit. You've faced your fears, explored your fears, and formed a community in a city that makes you happy. And now you can be an active part of that community
I see myself working with people who struggle with trauma and addiction. Using yoga. Mindfulness. Cognitive therapy.
I feel safe. At home. My feet still itch, but I'm happy to invest my time and energy where I am.
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