Below is the latter half of an email (stream of consciousness) I wrote a couple of weeks ago while in Nicaragua. There's a little bit of desire for the current me (the one with more time to edit and perfect, and one who's aware now that more than just mom, dad, and husband will be reading these words) to change some things but I decided to copy and paste it here, "as is". I'll preface the sharing below by saying that my time in Nicaragua was initially very difficult---I was homesick and felt isolated outside of the familiar and safe spaces I'd created in St Louis. At first, I didn't want to push into and explore this discomfort.
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Don't forget the way the nurse purses her lips to indicate direction. Don't forget shared nervousness (mostly over language). Julio's laugh. Christian's love for God, his smile ("...created, and God saw that it was good"). Cassandra's boldness. Sonia's soft hands and the way they reach for mine. How she reminds me so much of my own grandmother (that this is not a coincidence, that my grandma is somehow always with me--a guardian angel--and Sonia hands me this truth as real and tangible as the song she wrote for me; as her permed hair, her always made face, her ritual of sitting outside her casa on the sidewalk for hours talking to anyone who passes by). The sweat on all of us, all the time, and how it just doesn't matter. Gina's ability to relate so (immediately) intimately with me. Alexander's torrid love affair with his ex and how he handed me his broken heart ("Please, fix this. Walk with me. I need you now.") The way we need all each other. The sound of the birds, the dogs barking, the cool of the breeze blowing over us as we practice asana. There is sometimes a human connection so natural/innate that no words are needed. (of course, verbal communication certainly nurtures a relationship) But the draw itself is undeniable. Something inside the other promises "you are safe here with me, I want to receive you, I want to share myself with you."
Why not? Remove the fear of judgement, be truthful, and fully you. Do not hide anything. The broken places in us can allow others to enter. To help us put things back together. (As Leonard Cohen put it: “There are cracks, cracks, in everything, that’s how the light gets in.”) Or just to sit with us. Be with us inside ourselves (tortured or at peace) and recognize things as they exist in this present moment. Who cares what the house inside your soul looks like. Let them in, offer them water, coffee, coke, food, leche agria*. Let them use your bathroom. Laugh with them. Who cares if there aren't enough chairs for everyone to rest on. Allow them to sit anywhere. Offer them your food. Don't mind the smell. Don't mind the hour. Let the time pass as it does, because you will not change it. Enjoy. Revel in the moment, in those people you've let in. Those people you love. And they love you, too. You and your stinky soul.
Crack open the windows to your soul and breathe deep. You are alive.
glad you didn't change a thing :)
ReplyDeleteit's perfect just like this. love the flow!
thumbs up.
ReplyDeletewhy is there a picture of me in a snuggie
ReplyDelete