Love and WWOOFing in New Zealand

After over a year of being back in the US of A, I am finally getting some perspective on my time abroad, the culminating experience of which was undoubtedly New Zealand. Some wind blew me over to that side of the world after knowing I needed to leave Spain and then after visiting family in Russia, knowing it was time to leave there too.

I had read about New Zealand and WWOOFing there, and was drawn. Sustainable farming, living in harmony and peace in community and nature…this all spoke to me. Now I realize that I subconsciously (and consciously) thought I might find the healing that I need at places like that. And I was at least partially right.

(Get ready...stream of consciousness begins here)

I have gone there and back, literally and all else. The pure land churned up things inside me I was and was not ready for. The people were the mirrors to my pain and joy. I experienced and saw so much compassion and love. Also other pain. I saw a lot of everything. Everything from the land to lifestyle to emotion to pain to awareness to God to living in peace and joy. It was a kaleidoscope of what's possible, what was, what is. I was faced with my own pain over and over. Some understood, some didn't. Some were just as lost, whether they were traveling or not. Some shone bright and that was both healing and difficult. It was a journey of surrender. Surrender to myself, surrender to what's real, to what's here. To what needs to be done, to what I need, what I want. A letting go of desperate searching and reaching.

The pure land and the openness of the people I met was the canvas for me to see myself, just as I am, with all the pain and sometimes with my gifts shining through. It was very very hard to get those reflections back to myself, not so much the gifts, but the pain. As Benjamin (my travel and heart companion for a time) liked to put it, it was a constant washing machine. I come to a new place, I meet some people, they inspire me, then they start triggering me, emotions come up in me and sometimes in them, my pain is sometimes in the spotlight in front of almost strangers, I try to deal with it the best I can with or without help, and then it's time to move on.

In my journey there I opened up more and more and I started finding more and more compassion and love, either because I was going to those places or because I was more open to it, or both. I processed (a word I came to use quite often by the end of my time there) and I released, and I surrendered to myself. I started being a lot nicer to myself and not making myself move from place to place every week. I spent lots of time alone on top of the hill living in Margaret's van (used by her as a closet). It was hard to do that too as waves of travelers and WWOOFers passed through Tui (the community where I was staying). Some were shining lights, some just enjoying life, and they would gather in groups and I would be alone, processing. Whether this was good or bad or right or wrong doesn't matter. It's what was. Oh the regret is there for sure. So many beautiful places I saw and didn't take in fully because I was processing emotions. But that is the regret for many many moments of my life and regret is pointless. It only recycles the same.

I am humbled when I think about this. I am humbled and I am even more committed to my journey of self-love and healing. I see where I am now and I see how New Zealand played a big part in opening me up to myself. It was very uncomfortable for the ego and that is how it goes. Clearing must happen through not around. I can't avoid it. Uncomfortable situations usually lead to growth because they show me where I still have pain. And if I still have pain then I'm not seeing the love and joy all around me, no matter if it's the most beautiful scenery I will ever see in my life or if it's the leaves rustling in the wind on the tree outside my window.

So thank you New Zealand and the humans traveling and living there. I was shown so much compassion, and wisdom, and also pain, and I'm thankful for every bit of it.

Here are some pictures of the journey through the land and through the heart.

5Rhythms

Today I skipped and did pirouettes down the street (Venice Blvd to be exact). It was leftover glow from the 5Rhythms class at the Masonic Lodge in Culver City that happens on Sundays. If you don't know what 5Rhythms is, it's dancing in a studio with bare feet, and the idea is that you are letting your body do the dancing without concern for social expectations. Ever since discovering this form of dance I can't go clubbing again.

This was the first time I attended a conscious dance class since coming back to LA. It far exceeded my expectations - almost 3 hours of dancing with 40 or so people to beautiful music, completed by a circle holding hands. And a sweet ritual for a birthday girl where she went into the center of the circle and was lifted up by many hands while everyone was OM-ing at her and sending her loving energy. If this sounds too out there, don't knock it till you try it! I know I'll take loving energy from 39 other people sent my way any time. I cried even before she did.

A temporary dip into loneliness in the evening, but I somehow brought myself out, and that's when I ended up skipping down the street. The skipping didn't come right away. First I had to look at the loneliness and see the falseness of it. The old story. Its' premise is all off - that I need something or someone else to fill up. No, I just need to see that I'm already full, even without 5Rhythms. And whenever I want company, the class is there, a gazillion other groups are there, and my sweet friends are always there.

And that's the end of another Venice weekend!

Venice Beach, CA

The ocean was whispering to me.

It started with a flat bike tire. Surely as a message from the Universe, in my rush to do errands after a day of doing errands, it was a clear sign to slow down.

I wandered to the Mystic Journeys Bookstore. So many amazing books. All proclaiming to have the answer to my true happy life. For a moment I felt inferior, unrealized. Wanted to read all of them. No. Today, the way my life is now, imperfect, this is it. I searched inside myself for the next step. It came. Go walk.

Unsurprisingly my feet led me to the beach like they usually do. It's a drum circle day! And it was close to sunset. I almost ran. This is just what a need, some booty shakin'!

I ran into it full of energy...a moment of shame...but heck with it. I danced up a storm.

Out of breath now I found myself outside of the circle next to a drummer. It was just after a pause and he had the beat. He had it but no one else was caught on yet. Finally, one by one, they joined him (it was inevitable) and there was like a satisfying clicking in moment. Oooo yeaa I was in heaven.

Finally I settled into myself and the group, or maybe we settled into each other. The sun had just set. Then the bells and the voices started coming in. I felt the rightness of it, all of them in perfect harmony, and my body too, moving just slightly now in perfect harmony with the sounds.

The police came quietly to signal the end.

I walked to the ocean to let the experience settle. My senses were heightened. I heard the ocean whispering to me. I let myself feel love. So this is God.

Bye bye Spain!

A post to close this Spain chapter as I move on to the next adventure - New Zealand!

I'm noticing a strange thing lately. My life has become impressive to some people. And it's true, when I think about it, all the moves around the world do sound courageous. And they are. But it's also become less of a courage thing and just something I know I must do. A feeling of 'I have to go there.' For a long time I was resisting the Europe thing and finally just gave into the feeling. Was it a good idea? Yes absolutely. Did I know it would be beforehand? No. But I finally heeded the pull to come. 

A feeling of understanding this experience came to me recently. First of all, the mind's curiosities were fulfilled such as learning a new language, meeting people from different cultures, finding out what it's like to live in another part of the world. And trying a completely different job. These were all unforgettable experiences, but what's the even better part to it is getting to know myself. There were many many joyful moments, feeling connections, finding the things and people that resonate for me. Some of them, like the international yoga class are special to the place. I couldn't find that in LA for example. There were other, difficult things that would nudge, poke, and just pierce the various emotional barricades I had, the masks I was wearing, the stories I've gotten used to about myself. Sometimes it felt like crap. Like the teenage students that I had no idea how to deal with. The only way out of this was to look inside, to examine what it was in me that was making me feel bad. I am sure more triggers await, but I won't go out looking for them now. I've learned how to be nicer to myself and allow myself to rest, to take the easier path if I want to. To stop proving things to myself and others. 

Thankfully along the way I found that support is always available if you look for it. And I did. Big time. And I found lots and lots of it in various beautiful forms. Without it I would have crawled into a little hole in a cave somewhere near Granada and not come out. So that's what they call 'growth'. Uf what a way to grow. My living question now is, can you grow without being forced to? That is, without something poking at your usual image of yourself and the world? I had a conversation last night with someone that works in new product development for a technology company. The question was very similar. Can you innovate and be creative without constraints? 

It's not necessary to grow when your life is running along perfectly fine. Unless it's not. That is unless you feel an emptiness inside, a begging for something different. Nothing is wrong per se but yet your soul is begging you for something. That's what took me to Spain and that's what's taking me to New Zealand now. 

So if it's in your heart to travel, to move, to change jobs, to do that thing you feel an indescribable pull towards, it's for a reason, and it's just going to stay there until you go and do it!

Dive headfirst into the unknown. That's where all the goodies are!!

Community

I was shocked to hear Virginia tell me that we foreigners are all lost and what are we running away from anyway? Something I wasn't used to hearing coming from my circle of expat friends in Madrid where constantly changing the country you live in is seen as the ideal life. But she saw it quite differently and it was a good lesson for me and made me think. She tried the living abroad thing for the summer in England, and even though it was great she finally decided it was nothing like living with the support of her family. She was perfectly content to come back after the summer and continue living with her parents. 

I have to agree that living with family in your hometown can feel wonderful. That's what I'm experiencing in St Petersburg after many years of living independently. People spontaneously doing things for you that you didn't ask for and asking about every detail of your life might sound annoying to some, but it's actually nice for a change. My roommates have never made me healing tea in the middle of the night for example!

Alas what to do when intuition pulls us to the next country? Not much but to trust it and keep going until you feel like it's time to stop. Trust that the time will come when it needs to come. (See below for a hint about where I'm going next!!) For my next project I want to learn about communities, what are they, what do they mean to their members, what does it mean to choose your community as opposed to family/neighborhood that you didn't necessarily choose. Maybe even test out what role I like to play in them.

As I was going through a fun exercise of brainstorming how to contribute to the places where I'll be going (playing music, singing, face painting, crafts, yoga, games) I was struck that each idea came from an example of a community I was a part of. That it doesn't have to be labeled as such to be one. This was such a great discovery that I had to make a list.

All summer every Friday Tony would set up the volleyball court no matter what, and if he couldn't make it, he'd pass the equipment to someone else. After, we'd go for pizza and beer. Even if I didn't always show up it was great knowing there was always a place to go.

We had been talking about doing something during the super moon for a few days before. Demetrius brought a drum to Sunshine House, we went to the beach, gathered branches, and lit a fire. We sat and talked and drummed to the full moon and I felt really connected to them.

I had never had a yoga class with a gathering after, but then I met Eliza. The brunch after the class became one of my favorite activities of the week, having meaningful conversations from a just-cultivated peaceful and lovey feeling.

In Taizé monastery the mass consists of songs, the same songs all year in many different languages for the international crowd that comes. You can see people going through many different emotions during the singing and I myself had tears in my eyes more than once. When I went again to a service in Madrid and heard and sang the same songs I was transported back to the huge church and felt the same open and heartwarming feelings.

Victor, my WWOOF host at the Valdepielagos eco village, invited everyone to morning meditation. It was freezing outside on the deck, but he lovingly prepared the yoga mats and thick blankets. We followed him in 3 creaky (he's older) sun salutations, he pointed out where the sun would rise, and then we were on our own. It took little effort but it was perfect.

And lastly, Burning Man. This place is one huge community experiment. I was especially struck that the parts and pieces we were putting together to make supports for all the acrobatic stuff (dubbed The Rig) then became a major gathering place at the festival. A bunch of metal and fabric became a community space!
What's fun is that with a setup like that, minor small-scale spaces easily sprout up with little effort. Two examples. There was a big rug by itself to the side. A few chairs put into a circle on the rug and people naturally started gathering there. Another was the face paint. A spontaneous purchase, it somehow made it's way out and a folding chair was made into a working table. We had zero experience, but tried it out on ourselves, and soon had a camp full of painted faces. A simple idea but so much happiness.

For me community means creating a space. It doesn't take much, but it does require conscious attention and follow-through from at least one person. Then people can create and play within that structure. I'm already sensing into the many other elements of this space, but that's for another blog post. 

I agree with Virginia that you need a support structure, but I wonder what that has to look like and if one can recreate it in new places? I have a feeling that yes (Yay for Couchsurfing.com!)

And now for the hint for where I'm going next ;)

Finding my voice and the art of listening

Phew that's a long title. That's because both of those things are something I'm working on and were the topic of my second Toastmasters speech! 

Yes, I was speaking about listening. 

Because I'm recently discovering how nice it is to be heard, and that there's another way to listen than what I've been doing all my life, which doesn't take nearly as much effort. Read below for the transcript (with nervousness it was all mixed up when I was actually speaking!)

*****

Listen... Do you hear that? Silence. How often do we get to speak and be heard with complete silence?

Mr Toastmaster, fellow members, and dear guests...

There’s a lot of noise around us, a lot of distraction... and there’s always the monologue in our heads...or is that just me? 

We have many tips and techniques for better speaking. How to engage the audience, how to be interesting, how to be funny, strong opening, strong voice...many tips for how to make ourselves heard. 

We’re almost screaming to make ourselves heard. 

And no wonder. Research on listening indicates that we spend most of our time communicating, but a whole three quarters of that time we are forgetful, pre-occupied, or not paying attention. 

Why is it so hard to listen? I think most of us do want to be better at it. There is the distraction, preoccupation with our own busy lives. But there’s something else too hiding under the surface. 

And it’s the vulnerability in listening. 

To truly listen without planning any response, judging what the person is saying, comparing to your own life, means to let go of control. If you’re in your head thinking of what to say next, you’re not really seeing the speaker. To let go means to let them take you to an unknown place. Possibly uncomfortable. It takes courage to listen, and it’s worth it. 

To be heard is to be seen, to be recognized. It’s a basic human need. I’m pretty sure some of my private English students pay me just to listen to them. When you are truly listening, there is a space for creativity to flow out of the speaker, and combined with yours you can create something even greater.

But what about me? I also want to be heard! you might protest. Believe me, I completely understand. I spent my whole life being a “listener”, and it’s part of the reason I’m in this club, to find my voice. But with a little bit of perspective, even those who have a need to be heard can still give the gift of listening. And it is such a powerful gift to give someone, they will usually be more than happy to return the favor. 

This is the stuff that builds relationships, creates teams and organizations, ends the conflict with your spouse, and the Cuban Missile Crisis...perhaps on the same importance level. :)

So what can we do to change this? To not do anything. Just be there, just be present to the speaker. 

There is a technique called active listening, which you might have heard about, which is nodding your head, smiling, giving feedback, asking questions...This is good and has it's place, but sometimes it can be superficial. 

I invite you to just be present. A way you can practice being in the present moment is to take a minute every day to be aware of what you're doing, moment to moment. For 60 seconds be completely present, it could be while you’re brushing your teeth, getting a glass of water, juggling...Well I suppose if you're juggling you have to be completely present...maybe we should all start juggling!

Anyway, if you try this, by the time you are in a conversation, you'll be ready.

I have a student who I initially was not happy about because he has the lowest English level, so I thought it might be a boring class. He's now my favorite student. It's amazing the stories he tells me when I am patient and let him speak. For example...he's a delivery man and he was telling me the other day that he often delivers packages to the airport. He was so excited to tell me about all the interesting people he sees at the airport, how he'll watch a sports match on TV and then see the team at the airport...I watched him come alive when he was telling this story and the pride on his face when he saw my appreciation.

Just try it. I assure you it will be worth it. And come back and tell me what happens. 

I leave you with a quote by a quaker named Douglas Steere, who said “To 'listen' another’s soul into a condition of disclosure and discovery may be almost the greatest service that any human being ever performs for another.”

The Gypsy Problem

Last week's hospital class left me in a bit of a shock. When I asked my students to ponder some culture different from theirs I expected some typical answer about a different country they've traveled to, but they actually told me about one that exists, quite independently, right in their city - the Spanish gypsies, the gytanos. When I say "in" I should say "on the margins of the city", same word used for "marginalized". They live in cardboard cities with their own culture, laws, and customs. I used to see one outside my bus window, it reminded me of District 9. They come into madrid to stand by the metro and offer you rosemary branches that will cure all ills and on top of that also bring wealth and fertility. These are usually short big ladies in long skirts with long black hair. You also see groups of teens in the park clapping flamenco rhythms, enchanting on a sunny Sunday afternoon. Also, even though they have their own traditional medicine, they come into the city to use public healthcare when it's necessary. This is where my students come in. Trying to just treat a patient, they also have to deal with a 20-person family, overcrowding a hospital room. Bringing food, sometimes even raw, to be cooked on a makeshift campfire right there on the hospital floor! Meanwhile surgeons receive threats to their lives as a kind of insurance for a successful surgery.

No wonder Spanish people don't like the gypsies much. These stories, as much as being a cultural curiosity, brought up some righteous anger in me too. Do you think they're paying into the social security funding the public hospitals? Coming from the US, especially California, and all our immigration issues, I can empathize. 

Also similar is this fear of those with nothing to lose. I was corroborating this new information with my Spanish teacher Paloma, and she told me the following story. Her mother used to work in a school. A gypsy girl didn't come to class one day. The girl's entire family showed up to the school threatening her mother that she's dead if she doesn't find the girl. They said the girl wasn't home and therefore it was the school's problem. The police did accompany her to the gypsy city but wouldn't go past the entrance to the "house". She had no choice but to go in, alone, without protection. And what did she find? The little girl sleeping on a couch off to the side where no one noticed her before. Thankfully that's where that story ended, but who knows what could have happened to Paloma's mother in there. She risked her safety to avoid a potential threat to her life. You never know because it does happen. This same uncertainty is what prompts the receptionist at the hospital to go ahead and let the whole 20-person family through.

This is of course your standard mafia-style intimidation. But with the gypsies the fear is not just physical. Paloma always takes the rosemary and gives the euro. There are no death threats if she doesn't. But there is the evil eye and curses under the breath. She's not a religious person, but she still doesn't want to be cursed. And who can blame her? The gypsy culture has a certain mystery, a certain magic to it. After all, they are the guardians of flamenco, which, when I watch it sends shivers down my spine. Flamenco adds mixed feelings because many Spaniards do love it. Perhaps we can relate with our love for tacos. 

When I reflected more on what is it that's been tugging at me since the hospital class, I realized that I secretly identify with them. They choose to live by their own rules, outside of mainstream society, uncomfortable, but free. Even when the government tries to "help" by giving them free housing, they spit in their faces by taking all the copper wiring and leaving the apartments abandoned. I don't quite go this far, but in a way I feel free as an expat to not have to obey the same social expectations, and to come and go as I please. So I understand and even admire the gypsies a little bit.

I wonder if this tugs at the spaniards too, this FU to societal structures. There are many rules, not for everyone of course, but for many. There's the not so optional Sunday lunch with the family. The job that you didn't want. The clothes that you must wear. Spanish and just general western expectations that are all so binding. I wonder if there's an unconscious or perhaps conscious envy of the gypsy lifestyle underlying the other more visible issues.