2016 - We're all Fine and We Sit in the Fire.

I wrote this on September 9, 2016.  I hadn't written anything in a while, and life has been tumultuous this year in general.  This piece represents months of thoughts and observances that culminated into a tangible idea.  When I wrote it, I felt like I was in another world.  I'm still very unsure about sharing this.  It's not a story about my life this year, so maybe it doesn't fit in with the other posts very well.  But as the title says, and all the internet memes have told me on Facebook: life is short, grab the bull by the horns, take chances, Leap before you Look, magic will help us, and there might be a Supermoon or Mercury retrograde.  So do the Thing.   They'll criticize anyways...

We're all imperfect humans.  Maybe I'll start an interesting conversation.

The Universe doesn't care if you live or die. It doesn't care if you're right or wrong. It simply doesn't “care” in our human concept and understanding of the word. The Earth, Nature, Planets, Sun, Galaxy, Universe...creates and exists for Balance. Homeostasis. Breathe in, Breathe out. Life. Death. Growth. Decay. All are necessary functions of existence. Energy, both positive and negative, in a dance that culminates in our ability to thrive on this planet. Everything else is based on constructs that we developed and nurtured into generations of ourselves, in order to give us a sense of purpose. Our belief systems mold us, creates us and helps determine who we become as “people”, as “productive members of society”. Our cultures, our trends, our lifestyles. We ask the Universe to support our energy and our decisions. We place blame on the planets for how we react in situations we think are beyond our control. We feel the energies around us and we don't know how to explain them, so we give them names and ideas like chakras and chi. It's not that the energies aren't real, or that we aren't feeling them...but our human narrow mindedness in having to label everything, ironically disables our ability to see past those labels and into the truth. That labels are meaningless. That growing up in a city with money and the modern definition of “success” doesn't make a person any more human or worthy than growing up in a forest with dirt in your toes and no bank account. That having a mortgage and paying taxes makes you an adult, a fulfilled obligation of being human. If you're born with asymmetrical features or have crooked teeth, that you're somehow unworthy of love or friendship. We poison ourselves daily with these made up constructs that are truly meaningless, for at the end...when it's all said and done and we are piles of flesh awaiting our return to pure energy...none of that means anything at all. As I write this, the ego tells me I should never share these thoughts, that I will be judged and laughed at, shunned or swept into the corner. The conflict between knowing something, and sharing it...between instinct and thought...between the constructed beliefs from my upbringing to the calm realization that those beliefs can be changed...is forever clashing an almighty battle in my soul. The Universe doesn't owe us anything. Our lives on this planet could simply be a random event, the fact that we live each day is a gift. We waste it on judging others, on creating drama, on deciding who is better than the other flesh that bleeds exactly the same as we would, if we were the victim.  

In realizing this, it becomes more difficult to function in a society that places worth on wealth over kindness, that celebrates lies over talent, that worships discrimination over love.

Our hearts beat with an energy that is still unexplained by science. They've labeled the beginning of the impulse that makes our hearts initially contract with each beat, creating the catalyst that makes blood flow through the chambers, past the valves, into the lungs to become filled with oxygen we breathe in, and throughout our bodies so that our cells can keep us alive. They've labeled it. They can shock our bodies back into existence. Stop our hearts and replace them with new ones. But they still can't explain why they keep beating...

Where's my caravan?

So my writing kind of got put on the back burner because of the more pressing matter I faced a couple months ago of finding a new roof over my head.  It's been an interesting part of my journey.  It's the end of July, and so far this year I've lived in eleven places.  This is also counting short periods of house sitting...but wow.  I was jokingly calling this year my "Gypsy Year" but now it's less of a joke and more of my reality.  I think the weirdest part when I think about it, is that I started this year, Jan 1, 2016, on a boat in Phuket, Thailand.  Now I'm back, seemingly seamless in my transition, to the crazy little jungle beach town of Nosara, Costa Rica.

The truth of it is, I don't mind it too much..each new place gives me different things to think about.  It was a little stressful and difficult when I first had to leave the place I called "home" since arriving back to Nosara in February, but mostly because I hadn't found a steady place and at one point I had my belongs spread among town in 3 different places.  I felt "displaced" for a couple of weeks, and relied on the kindness and awesomeness of a couple of really good friends to get me through it in one piece (so to speak), to try and remain whole.  Plus I really miss that hammock.

It's not even like I have a lot of things.  My friend and I piled it all into his car for my last big move to my current "home base".  As we're driving it hits me that pretty much all I own in the world fits in a car.  Not a big SUV or a truck.  I think it was a Rav 4?  I don't know cars.  But my point is that it suddenly struck me as odd that I cared so much when I had spent so much time purging and preaching to let go.  Clearly I haven't "let go" as much as I though I had.

Living in other people's houses all the time is a bit of a trippy experience.  I feel that with each place, there's a certain energy, and a new part of me awakens..or an old part gets woken from it's slumber.  I might see something in their house that reminds me of when I was a kid...a type of tupperware, a specific spice in the cupboard, the way the towels are folded...it could be anything, then suddenly I feel transported back in time.  Or I'll see an appliance or gadget I've never used before and I end up using it all the time...like a fancy blender or a really good can opener.  You laugh, but good can openers are hard to come by here in this part of the jungle!  I used to bring at least 3 back from Canada when I visited, and I'm pretty sure I've had people mule them to me before.  Most of the cans here open with pull tabs.  If nothing else, that's how I'll explain and accept the can opener escapades.

Watching the rain fall from a new perspective!  

I feel like it's also made me realize a unique combination of paranoia and freedom.  Not a freedom away from responsibilities...but a freedom in knowing that they are finite.  The paranoia comes from living in different areas of town that I'm not as familiar with, and triple-checking doors and windows are locked to specifications.  I'm "on assignment" and I take that very seriously...which I'm sure people appreciate...checking perimeters and ensuring any animals are happy and healthy.  Then I try and balance in a social life.  Which is always interesting, of course.  I've managed to get out for a LOT more sunsets than when I lived here last year and I am happy about that.  It's easy for me to get into work, work, work mode and my brain keeps circling around but never solidly landing on any real progress after a certain time of day so I've decided to call that "break for sunset" time.  Then when I do actually sit down for "work" time, I'm way more productive.   

Here are a few of my recent sunset pics.  I'm super lucky.  No matter how broke I am or how frustrating a day can be...I know and appreciate that I can be living here and experiencing life in this way.  

I looked over, and there was a butterfly in the sky!!!

Pelada Beach.  Rainy season sunsets are simply the best...

Beach, dog, horses, sunset, awesome friend to share with (and her dog)..doesn't get much better!

North Pelada Beach.  Perfection.

The Hammock Dilemma

I think I fell out of a hammock when I was a kid.  Either that, or I just felt really awkward getting into, and trying to get out of one.  The details are fuzzy; it was summer, I was young, I felt cumbersome and completely lacking in the how to's of hammocks.  Ever since, I've been wary of their allure.  I also assumed that people who lie about in hammocks are just lazy or have nothing to do.  I feel like I've never had "nothing to do" in my entire life.  

At one point in my career, I worked a full-time job at a vet clinic 6 days a week, a part-time job at a pet foods store 3-4 days a week, and took 2 courses per 12 wk semester for my distance learning veterinary technician program.  I feel like it wasn't that long ago, but in reality it was around 15 yrs ago...wow.  But the momentum that started with the passion I felt for medicine and helping animals still flows strongly in my mind and heart.  I always feel like I need to be doing or learning something.  I feel like a traitor if I simply want to sit, or laze an hour away.

This need of mine makes it very difficult to relax.  An awkward piece of material suspended from just 2 hooks doesn't seem very inviting, either.  Hooks that don't look very stable or safe.  In fact, in the last two weeks, two people I know have crashed to the ground when their faithful hammocks gave way!  A hazard of relaxing, right?  It must be.  

When I first moved to this little jungle-beach town in Costa Rica 3 years ago, the house that we lived in had a huge wrap-around porch.  One corner of the porch featured a hammock secured by a tired old rope and questionable knots.  It was old, untrustworthy, and looked well used yet forgotten.  It smelled musty and hot, just like the surrounding jungle earth does in rainy season after a downpour.  It hung just low enough that a puppy or a playful dog could grab the underside and yank, creating a fun new toy.  I was pretty sure a number of different species of insects had made this hammock their home, yet I was naturally hesitant to shake it out and explore my hypothesis.  

I had a lot of work to do, living in that house.  Even though for the first year, I had help from my now ex-boyfriend, the work was never-ending.  I do, however, want to point out that a lot of what I did (and will do in the future) didn't feel like *work* because I was living my passion - saving animals.  Yet as each day passed with me exhausted by early evening, I began to feel resentful of that old, beaten up hammock that hung on the porch.  I was bitter, and felt conflicted because there was a part of me that desperately wanted to go and shake that hammock out and plop into it with all of my being...and just (as they say) BE.  But there was no time for such foolish hanging chair shenanigans, said my ever-busy mind.  And it was right, unfortunately. 

It was right in the sense that I didn't allow myself to create the time necessary to be foolishly relaxed.  Because our concept of time might be finite, but what we can do within that time is truly infinite.  That, my fun-loving friends, is an interesting battle between determination, our expectations, and letting go of preconceived notions. 

Then, one day, I did the unthinkable.  There was a quiet moment in the mid-afternoon.  All was still, and the animals were dozing away.  I reached out for the hammock, felt it's worn material in my hands, and gave it a shake while squinting in preparation for the worst.  Dust and old, dry exoskeletons flew in all directions, confirming my earlier suspicions.  Once the dust and bug debris settled, I carefully tested the strength of the ropes by leaning onto the hammock with most of my weight.  Still not thoroughly convinced I gingerly attempted to sit in the hammock, with my feet planted firmly on the ground.  I didn't fall.  I slowly started to raise one foot off the ground.  But before I was able to leave terra firma behind and float away, the ear-piercing sound of a bark aimed at my eardrums pulled me back into reality.  I was quickly robbed of that moment, and I remember the feeling of helplessness.  I felt defeated in my mission to relax.  The next day, I'd had it.  I was truly offended by the very existence of the hammock and promptly grabbed both the sharpest knife I could find and the biggest pair of scissors, and cut down source of my hostility. I felt very satisfied as I scrunched up the enemy and put it into the trash.  In it's place, we hung more string lines to hang laundry.  A very practical decision. 

A few months ago, I decided to move back to the jungle quickly after realizing my work contract in Thailand was finished. Let's just say I discovered that corporate animal welfare was just too...corporate...for the likes of me. I made the leap to have the experience of working in yet another foreign land, and I have no definitely have no regrets. But in the instant of truly having to consider my next leap, I felt an anchor tied to my heart that was pulling me back to Nosara.  I was ready to jump back into the nitty gritty of life here. But when I flashed back to what my life was like before I left, and *why* I left in the first place, I made a stubborn vow to myself.  

"Plenty of people miss their share of happiness, not because they never found it, but because they didn't stop to enjoy it" - William Feather

Plans were forming in my head, neurons hanging out together and creating a foundation for my next adventures and goals.  But in the middle of all the noise, I knew that I had to do one major thing differently this time.  I needed to enjoy it.

I've been back around 2.5 months, and so far I'm doing pretty good at keeping my vow and creating a new type of balance in my life.  It started a couple weeks after I got back, when I embarked on my very first beach-hopping Sunday Funday with good friends.  This Sunday tradition eluded me previously, due to living where I also worked and being responsible for many lives.  

Hey it's me, relaxing on a beach!

Upon arriving to my new home, I observed 2 nicely folded hammocks laying on the futon. We were having some VERY strong winds in early February, so it was a good excuse to ignore them, at first.  But then the winds died down and they were mocking me.  So, with a considerable amount of apprehension, I chose the more dependable looking of the two and I hung it up.  Then I proceeded to sit on a chair on the deck and stare at it for a while.  I'm not sure how long I sat there, but I suddenly realized that the time I was spending sitting in that chair was time that could have been spent suspended between two posts, floating away and watching the nature around me.  I literally laughed at myself and just took the proverbial plunge.  Not a single regret.  I think I lasted about 10 minutes that first time, before residual anxiety bubbled forth and made me think I had *things to do*.  But I've been practicing.  It's truly an art, letting go of what you're thinking and just trying to enjoy the moment.  It's fleeting, but when it happens it reminds us of why we made the choices we did.  It all comes together in that silent space we create in our minds when we simply exist.  

I find that I prefer swinging in the hammock and letting my senses take over, appreciating all that's around me.  The wind making the branches of the trees dance, the monkeys howling in the distance, birds and butterflies flying around, the smell of salt air and the sound of the ocean.  But occasionally I'll distract myself with a good book. 

Drink, Book, Cat, Hammock.  Life in it's most simple form.

I also discovered that Tommy, my new familiar, also appreciates a hammock lounge session.  He's taught me a lot about the art of living in the moment, as all animals do.  One day, a couple of weeks ago, I happened to wake up really early as the first hint of light appeared on the horizon.  After trying and failing to fall back asleep, I decided I wanted to meet the dawn in the hammock.  Suddenly Tommy meowed at me and jumped in too!  He settled on me and we slowly swung, relaxed, and watched the new day begin.  It was a very peaceful moment, and one I won't soon forget.  

My hammock buddy

I think I might be addicted to hammocking.  Or perhaps I'm addicted to the feeling of allowing myself the time to relax.  Either way, it's an amazing high.

The Brink

Have you ever felt on the brink? Like points are colliding, moving through each other, through you, and passing out on the other side somehow changed, fuzzy, connected. Those ideas, those moments in time where you think “this is my dream” and you do the cliche move of projecting your thoughts out there. I never believed it, you know when movies show the main character accomplishing the thing that they dreamed of when they were a kid? The realist in me says it's not possible, that it's both strangely unlikely and a fantasy. You hear and read these sayings...beware of getting what you wish for. Are they designed to scare us? To take away our hope? To dash our very dreams? What if we wish, wish, wish? What if we know, in our endless heart of hearts, that we're suppose to be something, or do something? Are we fooling ourselves? Is it a mechanism of some perverse aspect of the survival instinct? We have to rise above. To make our mark. To climb the fucking mountain and plant our flag in the ground.

But we're not all born to be heroes. That would be a paradox, there would be no one to save. If there's no one to save, there's no causes...no inequality, no lack of justice for the weak and innocent, no activists, no vegans, no victims. So how do we know, in that moment, if we're the hero or the victim? What makes us choose to fight, or give in? Is that the brink? Does the magic bolt of truth or "destiny" hit us and shock us into action?

So many believe in past lives, future lives, lessons we need to learn so we can go into the tunnel of light and emerge on the other side, knowing our path and living our truth. But how do we know what our truth is? If we're on the right path?

When I was 8 yrs old or so, I started saving animals. I saved half my lunches, and after school I would go feed my neighbour's dog...who they kept tied up in the backyard all the time. They wanted him to be a mean guard dog (he was a German Sheppard) and not interact with people. Well after a couple weeks, they found out what I was doing, and they stopped leaving him tied up out back and brought him inside to live with them. I learned a very valuable lesson. What we do, how we act...it matters to the lives of those we're trying to help. Even if we don't see what the outcome will be. You can't know that if you give someone money, or your time, or your talents..how that will affect them. I gave this dog food, and then he got to live inside with his family. I learned I could affect things. Real situations. Not just the hypothetical equations we learn in school. If you give 5 apples to Johnny, he gets to eat.

Shortly after that..well, the same year anyways, I accompanied my mother when she took our cat Garfield to the vet for her yearly appointment. And yes, we had a fish named Odie and a dwarf rabbit named John. Just thought I'd get it out there.  Anyways, I went to the vet. As soon as I walked in, or shortly thereafter, I saw the veterinary nurse. I can't recall what she looked like, because I really didn't pay attention to her face or body. All I saw was a white lab coat, scrubs, and a clipboard with a file on it. And I thought to myself "self; this will be you, one day".

I've never been in love at first sight. Yet. There's always a chance that will happen, I'm keeping my options open. But thinking about that moment long ago, I imagine that's what it would feel like. You have this, I don't know...certainty. An inexplicable knowing; that this is going to happen. And I knew. I would be that person someday. It wasn't until I was 18, when I was standing in front of a kennel where I worked, took the clipboard off the side of the cage to examine the patient chart, and realized I was wearing a lab coat that day because I had just finished some kind of messy job that required it....that I froze. I just froze. Moments collided. With all the shit, the moving around, the making new friends every year and getting kicked out of my house a week after graduating high school at 17 yrs old...this was it.. How was it possible. Does this mean I can dare to dream for more??? I'll explain another time, about being kicked out. But the facts were, I was on welfare, worked Saturdays at a vet clinic where I did a co-op in high school, and had no further goals except a pipe dream that sat on a cloud, thousands of miles away. Some day, I'll have “Jeanette's Animal Sanctuary” and I'll rescue all the needy animals and make them safe and healthy again. That was it. And now I'm on the brink.