I had a dream to play on a certain stage.
I snuck on that stage one sunrise and played my set with the songbirds.
And now, here I am.
I’ve returned to the wild.
What songs will play through me in this moment, this time?
I smiled as the machete fell through the fresh coconut. 20,000 IDR for refreshing clear coconut water, full of electrolytes to refresh my traveled body. I walked barefoot down the firm sand of Seminyak Beach, threw myself into a handstand and heard a crunch in my left shoulder. Over eager I asked my body to do something it simply wasn’t ready to do. As I said once in my twenties, “I showed up with too much enthusiasm and fucked the whole thing up.” (The injury isn’t that bad. It’ll heal quickly and in the meantime I’ll focus on strengthening my core muscles so future handstands will be stronger). The sun burned my shoulders in five minutes and I went to sleep at 3pm. I woke up at 4am for meditation. I held my breath for over two minutes. I ran down the beach until my hips were sore. I feel age in my body. I run with my sandals in my left hand and my phone in my right. I run barefoot and I wish I could say the same about my hands.
As I run on this wide open beach, warm air on my skin, I miss home and I feel at home. I feel a warmth in my chest when I see my adventures and interests leading me closer to my family. My mother can teach me how to stand on my hands better so I will have more fun upside on the beach. My brother can teach me to play guitar so I can write more beautiful songs at sunset. My husband can teach me to play games with sharper strategy so I’ll relax more and perform better at work. My dad is teaching me about wise financial investments so I’ll be able to enjoy creating more freedom so I can run on beaches as long as I want to. I am remembering and celebrating that the humans around me are happy resources. As I’ve lived with CPTSD for the past few years, humans have more often felt like disregulating chaos and danger to my peace and wellbeing. Taking myself to new countries is helping me emerge from protective isolation, remembering the strength and safety I have within myself and my community.
Today my path crosses with Arno for the first time in twelve years. My parts feel nervous and excited. A part of me wants to impress him with who I’ve become. Will we celebrate how we’ve progress in life since university? What will he see when he looks at me? How has his face changed? I’m afraid to see his wrinkles and I also know they will comfort mine.
Preparing to meet with him, I lay beneath a swaying tree beside a round turquoise pool. I’ve desired this beautiful life close to nature and I’ve moved myself closer to it. I fear it being taken away. The beauty of Earth and humanity can so easily be ripped away. My mother’s fascination with the human body and my father’s love of the wilderness are both within me. The more I love my body the more I love the Earth. I rest my hands above my head and slow down into the breeze. Everything I’ve built can be deleted with the click of a button, so can life.
I wish I could be happy and grateful in all situations. I wonder if I would change if I practiced loving-kindness meditation and gratitude daily. I wish I knew how to change in certain ways. I wish I could guarantee certain things wouldn’t happen again. What happened to my relationship with music? How did something so beautiful crash? I still feel strong desire to sing and my voice has felt tight, too uncomfortable to come out and play in most places. I wonder what it would feel like to sing freely everywhere? I want a studio or a stage, a place where I am allowed to belt it out, a place where I am supposed to let loose. Why not let loose all the time? I don’t want to disrupt people and yet I sense this is an old rusty idea that can be change. My voice has the power to heal, to bring peace, and joy. I’ve heard this too many times to doubt its truth. So imperfectly, with curiosity and wonder, I’ll continue listening for the music.
I see the dog basking in the morning sun and taste coffee. I love the beauty, simplicity and slow energy in Bali. I feel peace in the air and there is so much space for all these thoughts to roll through me. I empty them out. I have felt such a fight to keep the past alive and I feel ease in surrendering to flow which will take me somewhere new if I allow it to take me.
My feet in the ocean water, running on the sand. The light of the sky reflecting on wet earth. The road of the waves. The way the leaves move in the wind. The air on my skin as I ride on a scooter. The brightness of sunshine, the light is beautiful. Mom reminds me to ‘always look for comfort.’ I am comfortable here in Bali.
Love & Rainbows,
Cha Wilde
