“Yoga doesn’t make you feel this way. This is your default state. Yoga brings you back to it,” said the yoga teacher with deep passion and a familiar Los Angeles accent. At 9am I pushed back into downward dog and behind me saw a vegetable garden. The wind blew through the open studio and I heard a clear voice in my head say, “I don’t want to go back to Seattle.” Why would I leave the warm soft wind and outdoor yoga studios? This is amazing.
From a coffee shop loft I attempt a YouTube livestream. This only leads to frustration or exhaustion (not sure which), exasperation? Bad internet means my livestream cuts out every few minutes so I started it late and ended it early. It’s somewhat easy for me to let this go. One of my intentions for this traveling adventure is to test my business and learn how to work remotely. Internet failure moments are part of this learning curve.
Giving up on YouTube, I turn to Facebook messenger and call Davey. He dances around the kitchen naked, smiling and pointing to a freshly baked pie. He says he misses me and wants to see me soon. My heart starts beating and feels nervous. A part of me feels pressure to travel home sooner than Ive been daydreaming. A part of me wants to keep traveling and another part wants to go home and cuddle. Internal storms rising.
He suggests we go snowboarding next month for my birthday. I feel tension fill up my body. I was just been laying on the yoga mat in the tropical wind hearing that voice in my say it didn’t want to go to Seattle or anywhere cold. I love the soft warm wind and my almost naked body outside. My husband invited me on a fun adventure in the snow and all I felt was a big misunderstanding. This part of me who has longed for warm weather was shocked. Why would he think I would want to go to the snow for my birthday when all I daydream about is sunshine?
He starts telling jokes about something else and the feeling of disconnect grows as his energy lifts and mine drops. A part of me feels unseen and hopeless as we struggled to communicate. Moments crush in as he says with a stern hurt face that he needs to go to sleep and my heart feels broken as my new day begins. Timezones.
The rest of my day was churning through this deep uncomfortable painful emotion. All the years of painful moments have been surfacing to the top layers of my awareness.
Finally, after weeks of showing up with pure curiosity to a variety of healing sessions throughout Ubud, the deeper layers have been touch and seen more clarity and the tears break free and the release begins. Rainy season has arrived in my system.
I loved myself today, practicing yoga twice. I drank many glasses of fresh juice, filled 7 pages with ink, struggled to do a YouTube livestream (internet sucked), and found light in the present moment, my love of creating and the warm air.
From 1-3pm, I was receiving a 1:1 Batik painting class from Wayan. I found this opportunity on AirBnb experiences. It was charming to be in the mess of a family’s home as they wrapped me up in a sarong, held my hand to show me the proper angle for positioning the tools on the fabric and laughed with me for being their least talkative student. “Other students talk and don’t do. You don’t talk. You just do.” They found it amusing that I used multiple colors and liked to blend them in rainbow pattern. I was in a paintbrush meditation and roosters were in conversation all around me. Jerry the dog kept walking around and a staple gun was snapping nearby, attaching fabric to wooden frames. This lesson was given to me by the son of a Batik artist. The father had been creating Batik for 35 years. His son makes the tools, teaches lessons and drives taxi. Friendly as always and so grateful. “Thank you for support me on AirBnb. Thank you for give me job.”
With a wet Batik painting stuffed into my backpack, I headed to The Yoga Barn for a second yoga class of the day.
“Vinyasa is the art of listening to your breath and flowing with it,” said the yoga teacher in a commanding yet smiling Balinese/British accent. At 4pm I turned upside down and let the tears roll into my ears.
Limbs loose and emotions still heavy (I felt like I was carrying around a fish tank full of water in my chest), I sat in the yoga studio cafe to eat dinner. I ordered a Buddha Bowl, a sparkling ball, and a ginger Kombucha. All I crave these days is raw veggies and meat-alternatives for protein. I crave juice, probiotic drinks and medicinal cleansing potions. The idea of heavy foods makes me feel unwell. So a bowl of simple cut up whole food was chewed as I listened to voice messages from my best friends.
The music for ecstatic dance was starting up. The moon was up and the yoga studio was transforming into a dance party. Heavy still in my chest with no space to connect with any of these beautiful humans around me, I called my mom. “Hi mom, I feel so lonely. I need a hug from someone who loves me. Everyone who actually knows me and loves me is so far away.” For two hours I told her all my problems and she totally understood them all. She reminded me to take care of my basic survival needs. “When the problems feel overwhelming, return to keeping it simple. Walk, eat, drink water, sleep, breathe. If you do this you can find peace knowing you’ll survive and if you survive then everything else will pass. You’ll make it through and eventually be able to solve the other problems. In fact, you’ll solve them better later once you’ve taken care of your body’s survival needs. If you’re in survival mode you won’t be making wise decisions. After food and a night of good sleep, your problems probably won’t even feel like problems anymore.”
I am so grateful for modern technology allowing me to stay in conversation with my beloveds. I am so grateful that I am the daughter of an adventurous woman who loves being a mother. She promised me I can call her anytime for the entirely of my life. “Remember, moms don’t have timezones. I am always happy to hear from you.”
Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde
