Another note posted on Facebook last night:
As I sit down to post this continuation of Day 1 and Day 2, it´s the end of Day 5! The voices in my head are speaking partly in English but with an Argentine accent, and partly just in Spanish. I don´t know what those Spanish voices are saying half the time, but at least it´s not Hungarian! More on that below.... And this is a long one, folks!
So, where did I leave off? Oh, yes, with going out for a walk. Well, I forgot to mention that first I watched Stepmom, while lying in bed, with Spanish subtitles (I can justify watching t.v. if it´s a learning experience! ;)) I also cut up my Lonely Planet South America guidebook, so I can travel a little lighter after getting rid of the parts I won´t need. Cried a little, thanks to that sappy movie, and the relief and joy of being here, and then I did some yoga. Oh, and then my first shower. This is significant, because I was anticipating weak water pressure, but to my pleasant surprise, the water pressure was awesome! And this is very important for hair like mine. :)
So then, out for the walk. On my way out, I met another doorman. He talked my ear off, despite the fact that I told him repeatedly that I didn´t understand. It turned out that I actually did understand the gist of everything he was saying (stuff about the keys, and garbage, and what happens of somebody comes to see me), but he sure did have a lot to say about it all! He also didn´t seem to understand even my most basic Spanish, and on Monday I found out that was partially because pronunciation in Argentina has some big differences from proununcation in other Spanish speaking countries. The biggest differences are that the double ¨L¨and the ¨Y¨do not have the ¨y¨sound, but an ¨sh¨sound. Shocking! Even the Brazilians in my class (it´s me and 6 Brazilians) were shocked and keep forgetting! More on my classes and classmates the next time I write...
As mentioned previously, there was a big racing event down the street, and I walked around the perimeter of the zoo. I knew the markets wouldn´t be open on New Year´s Day, but was keeping my eye out for a resaturant. I found one called Nuche. It looked clean and fresh, and relatively full but not crowded. Upon entering, there´s a big display of desserts. It was nice to not even feel tempted; I just wanted some real food, some healthy food, some salad and some sort of protein. I hadn´t brought my phrasebook, so I was racking my brain for how to ask for a table, but I observed that someone else just sat down without being seated, so I did the same. There were many wooden tables with wooden chairs, and there was a bench along the wall with tables as well. I went to the back of the place and sat on the bench, figuring it was the best spot to take in the view of the entire place.
It was nice to just hear Spanish all around me! Sitting in that restaurant, I really felt as though I had arrived. Although I often had to remind myself that I wasn´t in Budapest. Ya see, I was married to a Hungarian, back in the day. ;) Yes, it´s true. And I studied Hungarian 2001 to 2005. I studied Spanish 1995-1997. SO, when I´m in any non-English speaking place, I tend to retrieve Hungarian, rather than Spanish, words when searching for the way to say something in another language. Erted? (That´s Hungarian for ¨Understand?) (Luckily, by now, by Day 5, I´m thinking more and more in Spanish, but still do have an occasional Hungarian word pop up. Like, today I kept saying ¨jo¨for ¨good¨/¨ok¨instead of ¨bueno¨or ¨bien.¨I bet within another week or so that won´t be happening. But back to the restaurant!
When the waiter came to my table, I told him that I only speak a little Spanish and asked if he spoke English. He did just a little. I ordered a salad, and asked him a little about some of the items in it. He either translated wrong, or placed the wrong order! It was a nice surprise though to have a salad with avocado, walnuts, and sesame seeds! At some point I met Javier, another waiter who was nice enough to give me some Spanish lessons after I told him in very poor Spanish and some English that today was my first day and I was starting classes on Monday. He taught me that I can say ¨Mi nombre es Rebecca.¨instead of ¨Me llamo es Rebecca.¨ Of course I´d been saying ¨llamo¨ with a ¨y¨ instead of a ¨sh¨ so maybe this was his way of correcting me without explaining? I don´t know. He asked me some questions and helped me with the answers too. Much more friendly than my original waiter, who never checked up on me after taking my order.
My lesson for that part of my day was to take my tiny phrase book with me when going out, and also to look up some translations online before going out. And to read up on customs, such as tipping. Turns out I had guessed right about not needing to tip the taxi driver (but can), and leaving a 10% tip at restaurants. Lucky guesses.
I also learned how to unlock the apartment door! Little did I know that there´s a technique! When I returned home, I couldn´t figure out why I could not get the door to open, as I was able to lock it without any problems. The doorman came up to help me, and showed me that I must pull the door a little as I´m unlocking it. Phew! Easy.
Got in bed around 8 to read and started falling asleep.Thought about getting up to do some qigong or dance, or maybe just watch another movie or meditate. I don´t remember now what I did, proably a combo, but I did write in my journal ¨ah, LIFE IS GOOD!¨
And although the plan for the next day was to go to the school, just a practice run, I decided against it.
Here´s a slightly edited version of what i wrote that day, Sunday, Day 2, with a few current additions:
DAY 2:
It´s 9:30. I slept almost 12 hours. And the majority of it was restful and deep. And I´ve decided that I´m going to write at least one page every day of this trip, even if just little notes to jog my memory later!
I love Ingrid´s place. And I can´t believe that her dvd collection just happens to include preg massage and myofascial release, both of which I´d been thinking about exploring when I return home! Now I get to take a sneak peak here! Feeling tempted to just retreat here after the first week of classes, but surely I´ll want to go explore after I land a bit more.
I keep reminding myself to take it moment by moment, day by day. There is nothing I have to do, or not do. I have plenty of time to make decisions and plan stuff out. I also feel I need a short break from planning and to just simply BE. Plus, I´ll probably be so busy this week with classes that I´ll mostly just be studying.
What I´m envisioning though, is that after this 1st week of daily commuting, I will stay in Buenos Aires all week. Probably meet Forgiven (a friend of dance community friends) and Diana (a friend of Ingrid). I will find out about private Spanish and Salsa lessons, probably start taking some private lessons with Patricio (Barbara´s friend suggested him, and we emailed a bit already). I will look into this thing that´s like speed dating but to practice Spanish! I will set up a massage for the week after my lessons and for my last week here. I will call the Americans Ingrid mentioned I could call if I ¨want some American contacts,¨ UNLESS I don´t want to! :) I will check out Barbara´s suggestions on where to go dancing too. And surely more ideas will come to me as this first week progresses... Most likely I will retreat a bit more towards the end, before leaving for Ecuador, and after I´ve done all, or most of, the things I want to do here. :)
I also really want to honor doing, or not doing, whatever´s in my best interest. I wish to make my choices not from shoulds or thinking that I or others might think I didn´t make the most of my time here. Right now I´m feeling very called to stay in a lot or go to parks a lot to do yoga, qigong, meditate, read, write. Eat healthy. Self-study salsa and spanish with dvds, online, cds, books, plus some private lessons and going out dancing. Low key. And although that sounds like something that could be done anywhere and could wait til I get home from this trip, perhaps that would be my way of making the most of it! Yes. Perhaps.... That being said, there´s also plenty of places I want to see, explore, things to do, make friends, etc. So I´m envisioning a mix, a balance......Speaking of balance, time for Qigong!
---
Just got back from the market! But before that, after Kuan Yin sitting Qigong, I lifted some weights, then did an hour of yoga. Love that Precision Yoga dvd that Adrian gave me! Cried a few times during it, as I pushed myself to twist or bend more, while telling myself, ¨I can, I can, I can.¨ Thought of Penny Allport, my very first Continuum teacher who is also a yoga instructor with amazing flexibility, and this woman had rods in her back! So if she could do it all with rods, I certainly can with my fused vertebrae! :)
After yoga, I was super hungry, but took a bath 1st. Very nice it was. salt and lavender. Drain worked fine, as Ingrid´s most recent note mentioned it had been fixed, but I kept checking periodically as I let the water drain just to be safe. I also tested the stove to make sure I could work it! Glad I checked, because it led me to discover that the heater flame had gone out after my bath! I tried ingrid´s instructions for relighting 3 times, but couldn´t figure it out. Emailed ingrid then went in search of market.
Found it! And one of my fave things in new places is to wander up and down each ailse of a supermarket. Made healthy choices! Did get some honey sweetened granola, but other than that, no sweets. Just veggies, lemon, lime, rice cakes, sardines, and eggs. Qunoa was $10. I gotta do the math on the exchange rate. Will probably buy some next time. Didn´t see any milk alternatives.
Came back to apartmetn and met Nero(?), another doorman. Friendly, no English though, so I went upstairs, found a free translation website, and wrote out how to ask him for help with the heater and also if he could call me a taxi for the morning or if taking the subway would be better.
Turns out the heater was easy to re-light. I had been pushing the wrong button. Actually, it wasn´t a button. That was the whole problem! And luckily I had the chance to try relighting it myself the next day. Piece of cake!
And then I burned some wild rice.And it didn´t even fully cook! I also thought I´d ruined a pot, but it ended up washing right out. And the rice was fine partially cooked, so all was good. :) Oh, that reminds me, I don´t think I mentioned this yet: I brought a whole extra bag of stuff for this time in Buenos Aires, including food (like wild rice) and some supplements and extra toiletries, etc, because I knew it would help me ease into being here, and I knew I´d be super busy this first week. And I am SO glad I brought this extra stuff. And yet I keep wishing I had brought my translator! For the first time since getting it, 8 years ago, I definitely, finally, would have used it.
Ok, that´s it. Looking forward to next time, when I´ll get a chance to write about this week of classes!
Until then....
:)
© 2011 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
The Traveller, part 1
Posted this on Facebook a few days ago:
Well, here it is. I´m posting a note about my journey so far! Let´s see how far I get, as these last few days have been long and rich and full and wonderful!
Starting from the beginning:
The first thing I did when I got through SeaTac airport security was walk past the gift shop full of smoked salmon, and to my surprise I got all teary eyed. I guess I was anticipating missing the stuff, even though I barely ever eat it; it´s just so Seattle! So I walked over to Anthony´s and had a Seattle Scramble (eggs, smoked salmon and cream cheese) for my last breakfast of the year. Then I went into Exoficcio and found an awesome jacket that turns into a pillow!
On the plane to Dallas, I slept/meditated to some Melodies from the Pleiades music for the first hour. Then I spent another hour or so dancing in my seat to hip hop and r&b, feeling so happy to be dancing, and to no longer be too self-conscious to do so-- sure I was holding back a little, but not as much as I used to. I still wonder, How can people just sit still so much? Especially while listening to music?! I´m so grateful for Sheng Zhen Qigong starting me on the path towards more movement, confidence, joy, and love. And Continuum and Ecstatic Dance as well.....
On the flight to Buenos Aires, I pretty much had a whole row to myself, but before stretching out for some sleep, I reflected on most of 2010 and realized that I had traveled in January for 2 weeks, February for 1 week, March for 2 weeks, and then took off at the end of April for 2 months! My African Astrology card ain´t lyin! It says I´m ¨The Traveller.¨ And here I am again, traveling. For 4 months through South America.
Traveling on New Year´s Eve was not exactly what I had imagined. A couple of the flight attendants did have some festive party hats on, and they did hand out noise makers, but there was no count-down, no way to even know when or where it was midnight (well, i guess the pilot would´ve known), and although they were handing out complimentary sparkling wine (just the 1st round; alcohol is no longer free on American Airlines´ international flights), they ran out by the time they got to my row towards the back of the plane. Oh well! I was planning to spend at least the next few weeks sugar-free, and that includes wine, so this was just getting me started a little early.
I probably slept 6-7 hours of the 10 hour flight. Not bad! And I felt pretty good when we landed. Perhaps a bit emotional, as I almost started crying just over the excitement of being there, feeling proud of myself for taking this leap, feeling grateful for the time and ability and finances and courage to travel, and also a little fearful and nervous about walking out into the airpot and searching for a taxi. But as soon as I walked out of the baggage claim area, I was greeted by an English-speaking legitimate taxi service, and the price he quoted was even less than I´d been told to expect, and I could pay ahead of time with my credit card, so it was super easy! (Oh, this is cool. I´m typing this up on day 3 of being here, and I almost write ¨muy facil,¨which, if I have it right, is ¨very easy.¨ :) Yay! After just one day of Spanish lessons, it´s sinking in. More on that soon...)
So, the taxi driver comes, and it´s a geeky, pale, quiet, 20-something year old guy, and I feel at ease because of his demure and peaceful vibe. I still insist on keeping my bags with me instead of the trunk, but mostly for practice, as I know that this will be important later on in my travels. Buenos Aires is relatively safe though, and as I look out the window and see tons of cars parked under trees off the sides of the road along the way, I enjoy the ride to what will be my home for the next 3 1/2 weeks: an apartment that belongs to a woman I met last January at a Continuum Movement retreat. She is in Bali and said I could rent her apartment. It´s in a part of town called Palermo, right by the zoo and two or three gardens and parks.
When the taxi pulls up, I recognize the street from the pictures Ingrid had sent, and Raul, a doorman, comes out to meet me. Ingrid had told him to expect me. He takes my bags and leads me up to the apartment. I walk in and immeditately feel relief, excitement, and that I am at home.
This apartment is absolutely beautiful, even better in person than in photos. The feng shui is just perfecto! The furniture, the colors, the way things are arranged. And I´m surrounded by photos of gurus, artwork depicting gods and goddesses, buddha statues, crystals. If it weren´t for some personal photos, and the fact that I am not nearly as good at decorating and still have excess clutter in my possession, this could be mistaken for my own place! ;) I am inspired to get rid of even more stuff before moving into another place, somewhere, someday.... Oh, her books are right up my alley too: spriritual growth and massage; Ingrid runs a massage school here (Oasis) and also used to (or still sometimes does?) teach at Esalen in Big Sur, California. Within the first few minutes of being in this apartment, I was concerned that I might not want to leave! At all! But alas, I did. After reading Ingrid´s notes, and taking care of her plants and emptying the air conditioning water, I unpacked, ate some lunch, and then went for a little walk around the neighborhood.
New Year´s Day, what´s happening here? Just one block away, there´s a huge Dakar rally. And one of the guys sitting in front of me on the plane was coming down for it. I just didn´t realize that it was starting off one block from me! So, it was loud and dirty and the streets were packed. I just circled around the perimeter of the zoo, which takes up quite a few blocks. After such long travels, I decided that was all for my outing-- oh wait, I think I went out to eat too.....
But today was my first day at school, and it felt like two days, and I am tired. So this is all for now. I will post some more tomorrow or the next day.So stay tuned for tales of my first dining out experience, my first trip to the market, minor things going wrong (just slightly, and getting fixed/figured out) in the apartment, language confusion, public transportation, and what else? Spanish lessons. Tango lessons. At some point I will be meeting some people that I connected with via email. And at some point I might take a 3-5 day trip to Uruguay, or just a day trip, since I am so happy just simply being in this apartment!
And at some point, if I start sending out emails instead or in addition to this, and/or get my blog going again, feel free to let me know what your preference is, so I don´t bombard you with my updates. :) And tagging some folks here to help spread the word, but not sure if i´ll keep tagging; i guess that depends on how often I post stuff....
Chau!
© 2011 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Well, here it is. I´m posting a note about my journey so far! Let´s see how far I get, as these last few days have been long and rich and full and wonderful!
Starting from the beginning:
The first thing I did when I got through SeaTac airport security was walk past the gift shop full of smoked salmon, and to my surprise I got all teary eyed. I guess I was anticipating missing the stuff, even though I barely ever eat it; it´s just so Seattle! So I walked over to Anthony´s and had a Seattle Scramble (eggs, smoked salmon and cream cheese) for my last breakfast of the year. Then I went into Exoficcio and found an awesome jacket that turns into a pillow!
On the plane to Dallas, I slept/meditated to some Melodies from the Pleiades music for the first hour. Then I spent another hour or so dancing in my seat to hip hop and r&b, feeling so happy to be dancing, and to no longer be too self-conscious to do so-- sure I was holding back a little, but not as much as I used to. I still wonder, How can people just sit still so much? Especially while listening to music?! I´m so grateful for Sheng Zhen Qigong starting me on the path towards more movement, confidence, joy, and love. And Continuum and Ecstatic Dance as well.....
On the flight to Buenos Aires, I pretty much had a whole row to myself, but before stretching out for some sleep, I reflected on most of 2010 and realized that I had traveled in January for 2 weeks, February for 1 week, March for 2 weeks, and then took off at the end of April for 2 months! My African Astrology card ain´t lyin! It says I´m ¨The Traveller.¨ And here I am again, traveling. For 4 months through South America.
Traveling on New Year´s Eve was not exactly what I had imagined. A couple of the flight attendants did have some festive party hats on, and they did hand out noise makers, but there was no count-down, no way to even know when or where it was midnight (well, i guess the pilot would´ve known), and although they were handing out complimentary sparkling wine (just the 1st round; alcohol is no longer free on American Airlines´ international flights), they ran out by the time they got to my row towards the back of the plane. Oh well! I was planning to spend at least the next few weeks sugar-free, and that includes wine, so this was just getting me started a little early.
I probably slept 6-7 hours of the 10 hour flight. Not bad! And I felt pretty good when we landed. Perhaps a bit emotional, as I almost started crying just over the excitement of being there, feeling proud of myself for taking this leap, feeling grateful for the time and ability and finances and courage to travel, and also a little fearful and nervous about walking out into the airpot and searching for a taxi. But as soon as I walked out of the baggage claim area, I was greeted by an English-speaking legitimate taxi service, and the price he quoted was even less than I´d been told to expect, and I could pay ahead of time with my credit card, so it was super easy! (Oh, this is cool. I´m typing this up on day 3 of being here, and I almost write ¨muy facil,¨which, if I have it right, is ¨very easy.¨ :) Yay! After just one day of Spanish lessons, it´s sinking in. More on that soon...)
So, the taxi driver comes, and it´s a geeky, pale, quiet, 20-something year old guy, and I feel at ease because of his demure and peaceful vibe. I still insist on keeping my bags with me instead of the trunk, but mostly for practice, as I know that this will be important later on in my travels. Buenos Aires is relatively safe though, and as I look out the window and see tons of cars parked under trees off the sides of the road along the way, I enjoy the ride to what will be my home for the next 3 1/2 weeks: an apartment that belongs to a woman I met last January at a Continuum Movement retreat. She is in Bali and said I could rent her apartment. It´s in a part of town called Palermo, right by the zoo and two or three gardens and parks.
When the taxi pulls up, I recognize the street from the pictures Ingrid had sent, and Raul, a doorman, comes out to meet me. Ingrid had told him to expect me. He takes my bags and leads me up to the apartment. I walk in and immeditately feel relief, excitement, and that I am at home.
This apartment is absolutely beautiful, even better in person than in photos. The feng shui is just perfecto! The furniture, the colors, the way things are arranged. And I´m surrounded by photos of gurus, artwork depicting gods and goddesses, buddha statues, crystals. If it weren´t for some personal photos, and the fact that I am not nearly as good at decorating and still have excess clutter in my possession, this could be mistaken for my own place! ;) I am inspired to get rid of even more stuff before moving into another place, somewhere, someday.... Oh, her books are right up my alley too: spriritual growth and massage; Ingrid runs a massage school here (Oasis) and also used to (or still sometimes does?) teach at Esalen in Big Sur, California. Within the first few minutes of being in this apartment, I was concerned that I might not want to leave! At all! But alas, I did. After reading Ingrid´s notes, and taking care of her plants and emptying the air conditioning water, I unpacked, ate some lunch, and then went for a little walk around the neighborhood.
New Year´s Day, what´s happening here? Just one block away, there´s a huge Dakar rally. And one of the guys sitting in front of me on the plane was coming down for it. I just didn´t realize that it was starting off one block from me! So, it was loud and dirty and the streets were packed. I just circled around the perimeter of the zoo, which takes up quite a few blocks. After such long travels, I decided that was all for my outing-- oh wait, I think I went out to eat too.....
But today was my first day at school, and it felt like two days, and I am tired. So this is all for now. I will post some more tomorrow or the next day.So stay tuned for tales of my first dining out experience, my first trip to the market, minor things going wrong (just slightly, and getting fixed/figured out) in the apartment, language confusion, public transportation, and what else? Spanish lessons. Tango lessons. At some point I will be meeting some people that I connected with via email. And at some point I might take a 3-5 day trip to Uruguay, or just a day trip, since I am so happy just simply being in this apartment!
And at some point, if I start sending out emails instead or in addition to this, and/or get my blog going again, feel free to let me know what your preference is, so I don´t bombard you with my updates. :) And tagging some folks here to help spread the word, but not sure if i´ll keep tagging; i guess that depends on how often I post stuff....
Chau!
© 2011 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Coming back to me
"Come back, come back, come back to me," I silently plead as I cry on all fours, with elbows supporting me so my hands can cover my head.
I am at a workshop called Heart of Grief into Breath. There are others on the floor, sounding, moving, breathing. I am the only one sobbing. And I am grateful for this release.
It started with me flat on my back, hands on my belly, asking not only my hands to feel my gut, but asking my gut to open up to receiving/perceiving/feeling me. Fourteen years ago I lost 2/3 of my intestine. Yes. Two thirds. Although I miraculously digest and eliminate normally, there was a time when nobody was sure if I would. And although what's left of my intestine is doing an amazing job, I've always thought more about what's missing than what's there. So as I imagine what's beneath my hands, beneath the skin, I hear my remaining intestines remind me that they are still here. I recognize that in this visualization and silent dialogue, I'm essentially having a SomatoEmotional Release session with myself. And it's working. As I listen to what my gut says, I acknowledge that sometimes I am too busy thinking about what I've lost to appreciate what I still have.
With this acknowledgment I feel a shift. The imagery is clearer, and I feel my hands being felt, not just my hands doing the feeling. This is progress. So then I move on to my heart, but someone next to me is making a sound that puts me into fight or flight mode. So I flee. I get up and leave the room for a few minutes.
When I return, I get on all fours, but low to the ground, so my forearms and elbows are supporting me. I let my heart and belly hang. Like a sphynx. I place my hand on my head, on my "exit wound"-- where I imagine myself exiting whenever I leave my body. It's a sometimes tender spot on the upper right side of my head. And as soon as I touch it, I begin to cry. And then I begin calling myself back into myself. "Come back, come back, come back to me."
But it's not until I speak out, having a conversation with myself out loud in a partnered exercise a little bit later, that I feel that distant part of myself come back to me. And what that feels like is a sense of alertness and feeling more fully "here." For the past 24 hours or more, I'd mostly felt heavy and tired. Now I felt light, alert, and more fully present than before.
And as I see those words, "come back to me," I'm reminded of how breathing in helps us come back to ourselves. Earlier yesterday we'd been discussing some people's tendency to lose themselves when in relationship. To sacrifice authenticity for communion. One of the workshop leaders suggested using breath to help ourselves come back to ourselves. Inhale into self, exhale and connect with the other. Inhale, coming back to self. Exhale, extending self to other. Inhale, I see myself. Exhale, I see you too. Inhale, checking back in with self. And so on...
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
I am at a workshop called Heart of Grief into Breath. There are others on the floor, sounding, moving, breathing. I am the only one sobbing. And I am grateful for this release.
It started with me flat on my back, hands on my belly, asking not only my hands to feel my gut, but asking my gut to open up to receiving/perceiving/feeling me. Fourteen years ago I lost 2/3 of my intestine. Yes. Two thirds. Although I miraculously digest and eliminate normally, there was a time when nobody was sure if I would. And although what's left of my intestine is doing an amazing job, I've always thought more about what's missing than what's there. So as I imagine what's beneath my hands, beneath the skin, I hear my remaining intestines remind me that they are still here. I recognize that in this visualization and silent dialogue, I'm essentially having a SomatoEmotional Release session with myself. And it's working. As I listen to what my gut says, I acknowledge that sometimes I am too busy thinking about what I've lost to appreciate what I still have.
With this acknowledgment I feel a shift. The imagery is clearer, and I feel my hands being felt, not just my hands doing the feeling. This is progress. So then I move on to my heart, but someone next to me is making a sound that puts me into fight or flight mode. So I flee. I get up and leave the room for a few minutes.
When I return, I get on all fours, but low to the ground, so my forearms and elbows are supporting me. I let my heart and belly hang. Like a sphynx. I place my hand on my head, on my "exit wound"-- where I imagine myself exiting whenever I leave my body. It's a sometimes tender spot on the upper right side of my head. And as soon as I touch it, I begin to cry. And then I begin calling myself back into myself. "Come back, come back, come back to me."
But it's not until I speak out, having a conversation with myself out loud in a partnered exercise a little bit later, that I feel that distant part of myself come back to me. And what that feels like is a sense of alertness and feeling more fully "here." For the past 24 hours or more, I'd mostly felt heavy and tired. Now I felt light, alert, and more fully present than before.
And as I see those words, "come back to me," I'm reminded of how breathing in helps us come back to ourselves. Earlier yesterday we'd been discussing some people's tendency to lose themselves when in relationship. To sacrifice authenticity for communion. One of the workshop leaders suggested using breath to help ourselves come back to ourselves. Inhale into self, exhale and connect with the other. Inhale, coming back to self. Exhale, extending self to other. Inhale, I see myself. Exhale, I see you too. Inhale, checking back in with self. And so on...
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
How to Have Fun
He asked me what I wanted to learn, what I wanted him to teach me. I said I don't know. But as I sat with the question, one word kept coming to mind: fun.
A couple nights later I tell him this as we start our dance. He insists I already know how to have fun. What does he know? I start to insist that I don't, but then he twirls me around. And I smile. I open up to the possibility that I do know how to have fun, that I don't need to be taught this. I consider that it's more a matter of my self-perception. My attitude. A feeling, or lack of feeling. So it may appear to others that I not only know how to have fun but also have a lot of fun, but sometimes I'm not fully allowing myself the freedom to fully enjoy my freedom to fully enjoy. Does that make sense?
As the dance continues, I ask for suggestions of something else to learn, and he suggests exploring more ways to love myself. And that really is just what I need. I'm pretty good at lovin' myself up, to some extent. Now it's time to go deeper. Now it's time to go higher. People always say you can't love others unless you love yourself. Not sure I agree. Sometimes I agree, but sometimes, like tonight, I don't. Sometimes I need the golden rule in reverse: do to myself as I would do to others-- love, accept, encourage, etc. Yes. That sounds right. What would I say to a friend or client or student who felt he or she needed to learn how to have fun? Surely something about releasing fears and shame, being worthy and deserving of fun and all the richness that life has to offer. Surely something about self-love.
I'd also ask, "what is fun? What do you enjoy?" And suddenly, in this moment, as I ask myself those questions, I realize something. Something about semantics. Fun vs. Enjoyment. Although there's plenty that I enjoy doing alone (and enjoy plenty of alone time), it's the sharing of experiences with someone, or somepeople, that makes something really "fun." So I guess the word "fun," for me, implies something about a shared experience. The "fun" that I have when I'm alone, I don't usually refer to it as "fun." Hmmmm.... I wonder if realizing all this will shift something in me, if I'll feel that quality of "fun" even when alone. I certainly can see that happening. Actually, I've seen it, experienced it, in the past. And it does have something to do with self-love. So exploring more ways to love myself most likely will teach me something about fun. Perhaps it just did.
And so goes the dance...
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
A couple nights later I tell him this as we start our dance. He insists I already know how to have fun. What does he know? I start to insist that I don't, but then he twirls me around. And I smile. I open up to the possibility that I do know how to have fun, that I don't need to be taught this. I consider that it's more a matter of my self-perception. My attitude. A feeling, or lack of feeling. So it may appear to others that I not only know how to have fun but also have a lot of fun, but sometimes I'm not fully allowing myself the freedom to fully enjoy my freedom to fully enjoy. Does that make sense?
As the dance continues, I ask for suggestions of something else to learn, and he suggests exploring more ways to love myself. And that really is just what I need. I'm pretty good at lovin' myself up, to some extent. Now it's time to go deeper. Now it's time to go higher. People always say you can't love others unless you love yourself. Not sure I agree. Sometimes I agree, but sometimes, like tonight, I don't. Sometimes I need the golden rule in reverse: do to myself as I would do to others-- love, accept, encourage, etc. Yes. That sounds right. What would I say to a friend or client or student who felt he or she needed to learn how to have fun? Surely something about releasing fears and shame, being worthy and deserving of fun and all the richness that life has to offer. Surely something about self-love.
I'd also ask, "what is fun? What do you enjoy?" And suddenly, in this moment, as I ask myself those questions, I realize something. Something about semantics. Fun vs. Enjoyment. Although there's plenty that I enjoy doing alone (and enjoy plenty of alone time), it's the sharing of experiences with someone, or somepeople, that makes something really "fun." So I guess the word "fun," for me, implies something about a shared experience. The "fun" that I have when I'm alone, I don't usually refer to it as "fun." Hmmmm.... I wonder if realizing all this will shift something in me, if I'll feel that quality of "fun" even when alone. I certainly can see that happening. Actually, I've seen it, experienced it, in the past. And it does have something to do with self-love. So exploring more ways to love myself most likely will teach me something about fun. Perhaps it just did.
And so goes the dance...
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Deciding Not to Go
Seems I’m getting better at making decisions these days, getting better at not just hearing that initial voice, but listening to it. Trusting it. Learning what it feels like to just know what’s best without a whole lot of second guessing.
Last night I decided not to go to a party, and not to go to dance either. I felt I had to be with my parents. I didn’t know why. But I knew I had to go to their house for dinner. Oh, and Reiki. After spending the past couple of mornings by my friend’s bedside in the hospital, I was feeling the need to receive some healing touch myself, so I enlisted my mom.
The phone call came towards the end of dinner. My mom came back to the table with teary eyes and said that her dad had just passed away. I was a bit shocked. After all, I had just made that big decision to go see him, to hop on a plane on Monday. But I was also feeling grateful. Grateful that I had listened to my gut about being at my parents’ house that night. Grateful that I had decided to go to Florida, even though now it was too late….
And last night I felt really clear that I wouldn’t be getting on that plane on Monday. I felt it was best for me to stay home now. To be with my mom since she can’t leave town and go to the funeral. To be here for me too. It just felt like the best thing to do. I knew that I had to stay, just as strongly as I had known that I needed to go.
This morning I woke up with some questioning, but it didn’t last long. As soon as I heard myself talking to my aunt and then my friend about it, I realized that there was no need to think it over any longer. I knew. I know. So I’ve decided not to go.
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Last night I decided not to go to a party, and not to go to dance either. I felt I had to be with my parents. I didn’t know why. But I knew I had to go to their house for dinner. Oh, and Reiki. After spending the past couple of mornings by my friend’s bedside in the hospital, I was feeling the need to receive some healing touch myself, so I enlisted my mom.
The phone call came towards the end of dinner. My mom came back to the table with teary eyes and said that her dad had just passed away. I was a bit shocked. After all, I had just made that big decision to go see him, to hop on a plane on Monday. But I was also feeling grateful. Grateful that I had listened to my gut about being at my parents’ house that night. Grateful that I had decided to go to Florida, even though now it was too late….
And last night I felt really clear that I wouldn’t be getting on that plane on Monday. I felt it was best for me to stay home now. To be with my mom since she can’t leave town and go to the funeral. To be here for me too. It just felt like the best thing to do. I knew that I had to stay, just as strongly as I had known that I needed to go.
This morning I woke up with some questioning, but it didn’t last long. As soon as I heard myself talking to my aunt and then my friend about it, I realized that there was no need to think it over any longer. I knew. I know. So I’ve decided not to go.
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Deciding to Go
Last weekend my grandfather went into hospice. When I heard the news, I knew I had to go see him. So I called my grandmother to check in with her. She advised me not to go.
“I hate to tell you not to come, Becky. I really do. Because I love you, and I would love to see you, but it’s not a good time. Wait until things get better.”
But as she told me a little bit about how my grandfather was doing, I realized it wasn’t going to get better, and so I called her on that.
“You’re telling me to wait for a better time to come, but--”
“I think the time has passed,” she said.
“Well then, I want to come now,” I said.
“I really think you’ll be upset when you see him. I really think it’s better for you to remember him as he was, Becky.”
I told her I’d sit with that, that maybe she was right. Perhaps there was some wisdom in her words. After all, in that same phone call she did spout of plenty of positive words of wisdom, encouraging me to live life to the fullest, that now is the time to go out there and do things, to take risks. She encouraged me to leave Anacortes, to live in Seattle, to focus on my writing. So for the next few days I sat with her words. I questioned my impulse to visit.
Did I really need to go? Why go? Out of guilt? No. Out of obligation? No. But it took me a few days to remember the clarity of that original need to go, when I had first heard the news. And what was fueling that desire, that crystal clear “I’ve gotta go,” was love. As I remembered this I also remembered the importance of making decisions that are love-based, rather than fear-based.
The only reasons for not going to visit my grandfather were fear based: should I really cancel my clients and classes? How will that affect my clients and students? What if it is more upsetting than I can imagine? What if I am better off remembering him as he was, and not seeing him how he is now? (but I still will remember him as he was, and I’m already imagining him as he is now, so what’s the difference? ) What if I don’t like staying with my aunt and uncle? What if the negativity and stress of my relatives affects me negatively? Is this going to be draining for me? Etcetera, etcetera, bullshit. What a bunch of fear-based bullshit.
What matters most is love. As I drove down from Anacortes to Seattle yesterday, I realized that there was no need to sit with this question any longer. It was time to do what I knew was right. No more worrying about what my clients or students would think or feel about me canceling on them. No more worrying about if going would actually be bad for me. As soon as I got to Seattle, I would buy my ticket and cancel all my appointments and classes for the next week or two. And so that’s exactly what I did. And what a relief it is to embrace this freedom I have to leave for a week of two, rather than feel enslaved. Oooooh, just might have to write about this whole freedom/enslavement thing in more depth some time.....But for now, this is all.
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
“I hate to tell you not to come, Becky. I really do. Because I love you, and I would love to see you, but it’s not a good time. Wait until things get better.”
But as she told me a little bit about how my grandfather was doing, I realized it wasn’t going to get better, and so I called her on that.
“You’re telling me to wait for a better time to come, but--”
“I think the time has passed,” she said.
“Well then, I want to come now,” I said.
“I really think you’ll be upset when you see him. I really think it’s better for you to remember him as he was, Becky.”
I told her I’d sit with that, that maybe she was right. Perhaps there was some wisdom in her words. After all, in that same phone call she did spout of plenty of positive words of wisdom, encouraging me to live life to the fullest, that now is the time to go out there and do things, to take risks. She encouraged me to leave Anacortes, to live in Seattle, to focus on my writing. So for the next few days I sat with her words. I questioned my impulse to visit.
Did I really need to go? Why go? Out of guilt? No. Out of obligation? No. But it took me a few days to remember the clarity of that original need to go, when I had first heard the news. And what was fueling that desire, that crystal clear “I’ve gotta go,” was love. As I remembered this I also remembered the importance of making decisions that are love-based, rather than fear-based.
The only reasons for not going to visit my grandfather were fear based: should I really cancel my clients and classes? How will that affect my clients and students? What if it is more upsetting than I can imagine? What if I am better off remembering him as he was, and not seeing him how he is now? (but I still will remember him as he was, and I’m already imagining him as he is now, so what’s the difference? ) What if I don’t like staying with my aunt and uncle? What if the negativity and stress of my relatives affects me negatively? Is this going to be draining for me? Etcetera, etcetera, bullshit. What a bunch of fear-based bullshit.
What matters most is love. As I drove down from Anacortes to Seattle yesterday, I realized that there was no need to sit with this question any longer. It was time to do what I knew was right. No more worrying about what my clients or students would think or feel about me canceling on them. No more worrying about if going would actually be bad for me. As soon as I got to Seattle, I would buy my ticket and cancel all my appointments and classes for the next week or two. And so that’s exactly what I did. And what a relief it is to embrace this freedom I have to leave for a week of two, rather than feel enslaved. Oooooh, just might have to write about this whole freedom/enslavement thing in more depth some time.....But for now, this is all.
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
So Hard to Ask
The Note I posted on Facebook this morning:
It's always been hard for me to ask for help. It's actually easier for me to ask for help with things like emotional support, processing, bodywork, etc, than things like moving furniture, hanging a mirror or painting on the wall, putting together an outfit, etc. Silly. But true. And last week I was faced with confronting this challenge. I needed help moving furniture, and I couldn't put it off any longer. [Gulp.] May not sound like a big deal to you, but it was a big deal for me, both the asking and the receiving..... I didn't grow up with parents who asked friends or community for help, so I didn't have that as a model. I'm also seeing now that there are issues of control/fear and self-worth that make asking for help a challenge.
So when I sent out an email to a dozen guys in Seattle the other day, asking if anyone could help move a bed for me, that was really hard for me. Sending out an email to new and old friends and acquaintances, and even to exes, was less scary than calling or emailing just a few directly, but it was still scary. So thanks to all of you who were on that email list, even if only as a sort of buffer! ;)
Now, why was it so scary? In addition to what I mentioned above: Not wanting to inconvenience anyone. Not wanting anyone to get hurt while helping me. And afraid of NOT getting the help I was asking for-- perhaps that was the scariest of all.
But within just a few minutes of sending that email, my phone rang. Heronemo, who I had just met last weekend, was ready and eager to help. And then an email from Kerry came in a few minutes later. And then Adrian, and Scott, and Dave, and Bruce. And John Blunt, who I had just met briefly a couple of months ago, offering his van?! Wow! I felt so relieved. Loved. Supported. Trusting. Relieved. Yes, relief came up a lot. And gratitude.
So much gratitude both for the actual physical help, and also for what this was teaching me and how it was helping me grow. I also received some feedback that my email and how it all unfolded was useful and healing not just to me but for others. What a gift. That email went out on Wednesday. Heronemo and Kerry used John's van on Friday to move the bed. And although it started off "so hard" it was actually all "so easy." So thank you, thank you, thank you. I am happy to have a bed in my new place, not just to sleep in, but also to serve as a reminder of friends and community and that it's more than ok to ask for help.
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
It's always been hard for me to ask for help. It's actually easier for me to ask for help with things like emotional support, processing, bodywork, etc, than things like moving furniture, hanging a mirror or painting on the wall, putting together an outfit, etc. Silly. But true. And last week I was faced with confronting this challenge. I needed help moving furniture, and I couldn't put it off any longer. [Gulp.] May not sound like a big deal to you, but it was a big deal for me, both the asking and the receiving..... I didn't grow up with parents who asked friends or community for help, so I didn't have that as a model. I'm also seeing now that there are issues of control/fear and self-worth that make asking for help a challenge.
So when I sent out an email to a dozen guys in Seattle the other day, asking if anyone could help move a bed for me, that was really hard for me. Sending out an email to new and old friends and acquaintances, and even to exes, was less scary than calling or emailing just a few directly, but it was still scary. So thanks to all of you who were on that email list, even if only as a sort of buffer! ;)
Now, why was it so scary? In addition to what I mentioned above: Not wanting to inconvenience anyone. Not wanting anyone to get hurt while helping me. And afraid of NOT getting the help I was asking for-- perhaps that was the scariest of all.
But within just a few minutes of sending that email, my phone rang. Heronemo, who I had just met last weekend, was ready and eager to help. And then an email from Kerry came in a few minutes later. And then Adrian, and Scott, and Dave, and Bruce. And John Blunt, who I had just met briefly a couple of months ago, offering his van?! Wow! I felt so relieved. Loved. Supported. Trusting. Relieved. Yes, relief came up a lot. And gratitude.
So much gratitude both for the actual physical help, and also for what this was teaching me and how it was helping me grow. I also received some feedback that my email and how it all unfolded was useful and healing not just to me but for others. What a gift. That email went out on Wednesday. Heronemo and Kerry used John's van on Friday to move the bed. And although it started off "so hard" it was actually all "so easy." So thank you, thank you, thank you. I am happy to have a bed in my new place, not just to sleep in, but also to serve as a reminder of friends and community and that it's more than ok to ask for help.
© 2010 Rebecca Clio Gould. All rights reserved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)