I'm starting
this post from The Fifth Dimension (whatever that is) in San Pedro La
Laguna. Tammo sits next to me on a couch that is far more
uncomfortable than it originally appeared, and the water of Lake Atitlan
shimmers in front of me. Two rather flimsy hammocks hang from the
rafters, accompanied by a flier with hammock rules.
- please remove your shoes
- only one person per hammock
- no unsupervised kids
I thought I was escaping hippie-ville... yet I find myself at a restaurant that has a kombucha/vodka cocktail.
...
Just go with it, Bourget.
One thing that becomes absolutely unavoidable after living in San Marcos La Laguna for a few months is an awareness of the moon cycle.
I chose a different chair at Circles Cafe the other day.
"Hey! Hey you! Where you going with my cappuccino?" I playfully yelled at the barista, who was walking towards my usual seat.
"You moved!" he started. "You're not where you're supposed to be."
"Must be the new moon," a bystander/total stranger chimed in. "New moon is coming. Bringing changes with it."
"That must be what it is," I replied, hiding the laughter in my eyes behind the giant cappuccino.
Along with being in touch with the moon (and all the changes it brings), San Marcos is also in touch with the seasons. And solstices. And I'm sure a lot of other things I don't know enough about to even be aware of. The Yoga Forest is no exception, and although people don't tell me that the reason I'm sitting somewhere else is because the moon is waxing or waning, we did have a pretty epic party this last Thursday. A winter solstice party, to celebrate the shortest day of the year.
What did this mean for us, as volunteers at The Forest?
Lots of bliss balls. Lots of cleaning. Lots of chaotic organization. Lots of moving yoga mats from one shala, to a porch, to another shala, back to the porch, back to the first shala.
A shit ton of dishes.
The
day started off like usual. The guests and volunteers gathered around
the cafe bar, held hands (right palm down, left palm up. Giving and
receiving energy. Don't be a greedy bastard and have both hands palms
up, receiving all the energy. That's only what heathens like
myself accidentally do when we're so excited for scrambled eggs that we
forget everything else), and performed some manner of meal prayer/chant.
Sometimes as simple as an, "Inhale to sigh, then inhale to OM".
Sometimes as funny as, "Inhale to smell the food, then inhale to
MMMMMMMhhmm." Sometimes as complex as, "thank-you worms, for giving us
dirt! Thank-you dirt, for giving us food! Our daily bread, we're gonna
get fed! Thank-you worms, for giving us dirt!"
After breakfast, I scurried down the mountain, tripping over the toes of my chacos and nearly face-planting several times during the short jaunt. Which is normal for me.
"I stumble all the time," I told Tammo the other day. "But I never fall. I always somehow manage to catch myself."
That's my life in a nutshell.
Kayla is a stage manager back in France. Amongst many other things, of course. So she felt right at home with her multiple radios, overalls and cup of instant coffee.
I love watching people do what they do best. I'm sure Kayla has many amazing talents (I mean, I've already seen plenty of them), but this is something she does fucking WELL. And you can tell it means a lot to her and she takes pride in it. And it's inspiring to watch her step into these stage manager shoes.
Kayla and Jonas managed the Solstice. Michelle answered mountains of obnoxious questions. I frequently checked the toilet paper status (there's never enough toilet paper. No matter how many rolls you pile in. It's never enough) in the one composting toilet readily available to about a hundred and fifty guests (we encourage peeing on the grass). Mollie taught yoga and helped sell bliss balls. And we all just tried to be around to help out where help was needed.
There were yoga classes, and fluffy dogs abandoned outside of yoga classes.
Solstice guests were offered a choice between Forest food, and the extensive menu of a couple local caterers. Anna and Nele helped out with the menu, and I helped out by documenting Anna and Nele helping out with the menu (have I told you how very helpful I can be?).
I've already forgotten the names of the caterers, but I will never forget their hats.
Or their pants. I want everyone who prepares my pizza to wear hats and pants like this. Holy bananas.
 |
Tammo was technically more helpful than me, washing dishes as I photographed him washing dishes.
Pretty sure everyone is more helpful than me, right now.
Oh well. At least The Forest will have some fun photos of the events.
Tammo manned The Forest lunch table, while Mera and I (very helpfully) played ukulele beside him.
After lunch, I popped down the mountain to the gate to see if I could help out Nele and Anna at the very official entrance desk. But ended up just doing a photo shoot instead.
Just as I had given up on actually helping out with The Solstice, I was plunked down behind the bliss balls and the last dregs of cacao. Which I very helpfully sold all of.
At LAST! I am being PRODUCTIVE.
The solstice ended in the Cave (an overhang with a firepit where most of the volunteers live) with music and dancing. Lots of dancing. In which I participated with carefree abandon (the beer I'd hidden in my water bottle helped) until a previous Forest guest laughed at me and said, "Aimee, you look like a clown!"
At which point a took my tired, bruised, clown feet (and clown ego) to the bottom of the hill, checked my bed for scorpions, and retired for the evening.
One of these days I'll feel fine about dancing like a clown/Mister Bean. But you know... today isn't that day. And that's okay. Today, comments still affect me. Today, comments can still make me feel like shit about myself. That's something that I can slowly work on. And part of that work includes not beating myself up for, well, feeling like shit.
At least you danced. And sold HEAPS of bliss balls. Good for you, Bourget. Good for you.
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