For a month I helped build an eco-friendly resort in Puerto Escondido called Barbarenas. We worked mornings from 8 to noon, sorting through piles of rocks, grouting walkways, and plastering the pools with natural mud. By midday, it was in the low 90s and we enjoyed lunch together (rice, beans, and veggies in a tomato base). I worked with my roommates (Niels (pictured), Nada, and Stijn). There was a local artist, originally from Cuba, named Yunior Marino, who was part owner and in charge of the interior design. He’s a phenomenal painter and sculptor. He enjoyed sitting in the shade and smoking cigarettes. My other coworkers were locals who worked extremely hard for very little money (although a decent local wage). On the walk home down the hill and towards the ocean, I’d enjoy a paleta. The rest of the afternoon was mine to play volleyball, surf, and swim.
Everything beautiful blooms from self love
I’m learning that the practice of self love is the single most important thing in life and that my life must be devoted to walking that path, eternally. To walk when I am tired. When I am aided. When I feel there is no further to go.
That is to say that the arrival is never further than the step that is being taken. And somehow it’s even closer than that.
Everything beautiful blooms from self love. I always thought the pain was the catalyst. The paradoxical mystery that can both shatter and erase, simultaneously. But maybe I relinquished too much to my agony. I’m starting to believe that it’s not about the pain itself, it’s the response. The relationship with it. The ability to say, “this, too.” The appreciation for the altitudes—as well as the depths, of the path. The love for one’s self.
Did I find the will to love myself in the heart of the abysmal dark night? Can I walk, one foot after the other, blindly, towards whatever lies ahead? Can I love myself for the part of me that does not love myself in any given moment? Everything beautiful blooms from self love. 30 years to even sit with that, and 60 more to remember that it’s okay to forget it.
Layerless
above all, thanks
in the surroundings
Call of the Sea by Carole Rosenstein
From my Grandma’s “A ‘Little Book’ of Verse”, a collection of Carole Rosenstein’s poems from her teens/early twenties that was posthumously compiled by my aunt.
all within
תִּיקּוּן עוֹלָם
“It’s not about healing the world by making a huge difference, it’s about healing the world that touches you, that’s around you”
Ruta 5
It was pretty much out of a horror movie. We pulled in to this hotel late last night while heading south on Ruta 5. As we parked the car it started to pour as a light switched on and a man came out to greet us. Jeff may have cried himself to sleep but we've finally made it to Pucón. And we’ve named our car Hoopdita.
2014
ginger licorice tea
I’ve been trying to take care of my body more— better sleep, cleaner meals, stretching, moving my body daily, cold finishes in the shower, meditation, slowing down.
This morning I made a ginger licorice tea and put on a Tara Brach meditation. I felt resentful of how hard I have to work to be in the moment. I’m swimming up stream. Why has stimulation become the baseline of my life? “Even if your mind feels lost in the clouds of thought, just come back.” The act of returning is the practice itself, right? But still, why is it so hard to take 18 minutes out of my day to ground myself and keep clear of the noise?
We are living in a system of distractions. Is it possible that all the noise and routine of Western society is humanity’s tool for avoiding our own pain? What is it about stillness that is so scary to us? And how much pain are we creating by leaning into these systems that do not gift us the opportunity to turn inwards?
Still by A.R. Ammons
peace in the mundane
Roles See Roles
for my great grandmother and those before her
Somewhere along the way I learned not to take up space. Maybe it formed in me as a child, or maybe it was passed on to me through my great grandmother, who would sit at her table and quietly observe us. I’ve felt left out of many of the environments that have been created that reward noise. So I am working on creating my own spaces, where noise and existence are not synonymous. I will continue to work in my little corner, for now, and I will continue to help rewrite my (and my family’s) burden of feeling as if we don’t deserve to be heard. I will find solace in my breath, the true and constant reminder that I am meant to be here. In the mean time, you are invited to join me in this space. In fact, you’re already here. Thank you for supporting me in my work.
We're singing the blues
“We’re not “failures” if we don’t feel happy. Sometimes healing and connecting more deeply to the love inside of us is painful. It can bring us in touch with something we have hidden from. It’s this pain that leads us to deeper questions: What is it we’re looking for? What is it we really need?
You know, this is the blues. We’re singing the blues. And there’s a joy, a strength in our yearning. There’s a beauty in our yearning. And tears are not a sign of failure. This is the world of tears. And there are so many different kinds of tears.”
Krisha Dass