This Year, I Want -- Lake Atitlan, Guatemala

It's 2018. 

Holy bananas. 

It's 2018. 

How did this happen? Where the hell did a whole year run off to?

In 2017, I traveled to eleven countries. I studied Thai massage, picked up my brushes, and started fiddling with an ukulele (fiddling with an ukulele... get it?). 

I learned to make some kickass naan. And while I haven't mastered the fine art of puff-pastry, it doesn't scare the bejesus out of me anymore (puff-pastry is unequivocally scary). 

I had two CAT scans, one surgery, and several well-earned hangovers. 

Have I done anything else? 

Hmmm.... not sure. I... uh... had food poisoning twice, witnessed a solar eclipse, sold milk duds to Christian Bale while volunteering at a film festival... 

Yeah. I'd call it a full year. An abundant year. Full of physical, emotional, mental ups and downs. The highest ups and some of the lowest downs I've experienced in my life thus far. 

For those of you who've ever had a yoga class with me (and survived), you'll know that I love quotes. At the moment, a quote that resonates with me particularly powerfully is one by Frederick Buechner. 

 

“Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery it is. In the boredom and pain of it, no less than in the excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the holy and hidden heart of it, because in the last analysis all moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.”

 

It's all grace. And it's all been important. And I can be grateful for every moment. Even the moment sitting alone in the hospital of Chiang Mai. Even the moment with the creepy dude in Pristina, who only had one couch and no blankets. Even the loneliness. Even the sadness. Even the isolation.

It's 2018. Last year, I spent New Year's Eve in Pokhara with my Kiwi, eating pani puri and drinking cheap Nepali wine on Phewa Lake. This year, I spent New Year's Eve drinking cheap Chilean wine, eating potato chips, and hanging out with my German tentmate on the top of a mountain, watching fireworks explode into dozens of vibrant colors over Lake Atitlan. 

Could be worse. 

Now I'm at Circles Cafe, writing from a hard bench with questionable cushions (that's a lie. The cushions aren't questionable. They're downright nasty. I've seen the things dogs do to them). A family of three reclines on the bench in front of me, man and woman chatting in German (of course) and a small boy playing on his iPHone, wriggling his toes in the speckled sunshine. 

The boy has created a massive, topsy-turvy tower of salt and pepper shakers, a mason jar of sugar, more salt and pepper shakers, then a gum package with a solo dried leaf sticking out of the gum package. 

I would be impressed, if I weren't so nervous that one of the eighteen million dogs living in Circles would barge into it. 

CRASH

CLATTER

Shards of glass scattered all over the wooden platform. 

The parents glanced over from their conversation, seeming to only just notice the fact that their child had constructed a flavorful Tower of Babel on the cafe table. 

The boy didn't even glance up from the game on his iPhone. 

I am never making babies. EVER.  

Last year, my Kiwi and I set intentions for ourselves. I just reread over mine, and the only ones I really fulfilled was to a) do more yoga (but only because I'm currently living at a yoga retreat. So it's hard not to), and b) paint more. 

That's enough. I can be grateful for that. 

This year? 

I want to keep my camera on me more often. Capture more of this year's grace.

 

Michelle is six months pregnant. Anna, Nele, Kayla and I painted her belly.  

This year, I want to work harder on listening. I want to be aware of myself when I listen and am already thinking of my response, instead of just listening and trying to understand. I want to be aware of this, and I would like to stop doing it. Please and thank-you.

"Listen with curiosity. Speak with honesty. Act with integrity. The greatest problem with communication is we don't listen to undrstand. We listen to reply. When we listen with curiosity, we don't listen with the intent to reply. We listen for what's behind the words." 

~Roy T Bennett

This year, I want to practice listening to what's behind the words.

Mama Michelle did Cirque du Soleil for several years. Mama Michelle can do anything. Including effortlessly holding handstands whilst six months freaking pregnant

 This year, I want to prioritize community. I don't want to move with nearly the same velocity that propelled me last year. I don't want to move to see places. I don't want to move to check countries off my "HOLY BANANAS, I'VE BEEN TO ALL THESE PLACES!" list.

After two months at The Forest, I now wear sparkles on a fairly consistent basis and have a feather earring...

 I want to move in order to feel happy and fulfilled. And at this point in my life, some sort of community, some sort of yoga, and some sort of art makes me happy. So I'll stay here until I'm no longer happy and fulfilled. And then I'll move.

Although... seeing new places can be pretty cool, too.

This year, I don't want to worry about money. At all. I just want to trust that when I need money, I'll find a way to make money. I want to trust myself that I have the skills to provide for my needs. So when I want to spend money on a coffee, or a hike up a volcano, or another hippie feather earring, I can. Without guilt of wasting money or fear of running out of resources.

This year, I want to find flow. And I want to be okay when "flow" means staying put.