Oh, the places we go...

I've decided to collaborate with my fiancé on a website. Www.soulinwonder.com is where you can find my latest blog entries, along with posts written by Christopher as well. Soooo, I will no longer be using this blog site, however I will continue to share our new posts on Google+ ....thanks for following and keeping up! For my latest entry, click here http://soulinwonder.com/has-the-world-gone-mad-or-is-it-me-part-2-enlightenment/

We Rise To Fall Just To Rise Again

Do not forget that without light there is no shadow,

But only darkness. 

Light and Dark dance like timid lovers;

Shadow fearful of being captured,

Yet aware of its dependence

On the rise and fall of the sun.

Shadow lengthens, shrinks, shifts, and stretches 

 to a faint, yet large shade in the darkest parts of night,

Resisting the gaping mouth of Nothingness.

Here it lingers, holding on by a thread,

Granted a fragile life by the grace of pale moon light.

Coming with the break of Dawn is a new beginning.

The silhouette of Life gains power,

But only for a short while,

For High Noon, in all its glory, challenges Shadow,

Teasing it, daring it to come out and play.

But as everything is ephemeral

And as everything has happened before,

The Sun, too, must fall once again.

But do not forget that without light there is no shadow,

But only darkness.

So do not forget that when Shadow overwhelms,

There must be Light.

They Tell Me I Have Good Coping Mechanisms. I Just Call It Living.

     With one light tap from my right big toe my yoga mat rolls out in front of me. The sound of the rubber becoming slowly unstuck from itself lifts the corners of my mouth into a crooked smile. I haven't heard that sound in at least 7 days, which is unusual for me to say. For almost a year at this point I'd fallen in and out of yoga practice, but within the last four months I had rarely seen 24 hours pass untouched by deep breaths, limber stretches, and stable balance postures. I knew this particular session would be challenging. 

     My fingers on my right hand softly find the stitches still fresh above my hairline and my face contorts in pain. I glance at the mirror next to me. That obnoxious black eye is a reminder of why those 7 days had passed in a blur. The blood bursts in my eyes make me look like I haven't slept in God knows how long. Well, if it weren't for the sleeping pills, I don't think I would have slept at all. Anyway, forget about it. This is my time. 

     An album I randomly stumbled across in Asheville, NC, a year and a half ago, Putumayo Presents Yoga, quietly plays through the speaker. Devaki by Karnamrita Dasi has a way of opening up my heart when it's closed. In sequence with her A Cappella introduction, my bare feet slowly step to the front of the mat. I close my eyes, pull a deep breath into my lungs and reach my arms outward from my sides and above my head until my palms meet, melting into one another. I exhale, bringing my hands down to the center of my chest in namaste. This is where I give thanks for giving me life. This is where I disappear into a world only allowed to be entered by myself and love.

     With each interrupting flash of imagery of their hands pinning my arms and legs to the ground, I stretch my limbs further apart in liberation. With each remembrance of his fingers tightly squeezing around my throat, I breathe even deeper, expanding my chest as far as it can go. With every wave of exhaustion from the fact that I was not strong enough to break free of their malicious intentions, I exert more energy through my fingers, palms, feet and toes, pushing with every bit of strength into the ground, igniting every fiber in my muscles with a burning fire. Each filthy bead of sweat that drips down my nose and splashes onto the mat rids me of their toxic waste they left inside me. I reach my limitation in each pose and pass it. I flow in between with grace and balance. 

     An hour later I'm laying on my back. Corpse pose. Palms up in surrender, breathing heavily yet steadily. I feel nauseated from the medication but I am free. I have taken back this body as my own and reunited it with mind and soul. This is where I give thanks for keeping me alive. This is where I re-enter back into the world of reality where there are negatives to every positive and where there is pain and suffering. But I enter it with a stronger skeleton and a more empathetic heart. I awaken fully with forgiveness and expand my being with more love.  

                                           

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     One year has passed. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. I didn't want to have to go through this alone. My friends and family are across the Atlantic and my other half is a two-day Tanzanian bus ride away. The anniversary of such a traumatic event haunts me in ways that I thought I could control with awareness of its coming, but it's as if my body is made of memory foam, and the imprint of their existence has lingered. Stuck in a culture that represses emotion I'm forced to get through this without companionship. 

     I unroll my yoga mat out in front of me. This time it is flimsy and stained with one year of consistent hard work. The rubber retains the memory of failed attempts, clumsy stumbles, successful breakthroughs and fearless experimentation. Each tear that drips from my chin and splashes onto the mat creates a moment of déjà vu. I remember how I have gotten through this many times before. I reach upwards as high as I can possibly go, stretching onto my tippy toes, and then emptying my belly of every bit of air, I bend down to my legs, placing my hands firmly on the floor next to my feet. I jump back with deliberate force and hold myself in a plank position until my arms begin to shake. I regulate my breath, keeping the calm within the storm and begin my vinyasa flow.

     Presence. Ultimate presence. Without having to think I can feel which parts of my body need attention. I stretch, push, bend, and balance without hesitation. My determination reminds me of the year that has passed. I am where I am today because I refused to give up when the world insisted on continuously challenging me. I move with fluidity because I have learned to be flexible with life's transitions. I am able to get back up, brush off, and try again when I fall because I have found truth in forgiveness. Visions of that one night are not able to penetrate my focused mind because I have reclaimed my body as my own. A year ago today I made a promise to myself to not let this destroy me, and I've succeeded so far. Now is no different.

     An hour has passed, and I'm laying on my back. Corpse pose. Palms up in surrender. The tears from before have evaporated into the past, and I feel the calmness in my chest that I was looking for. After relaxing every part of my body, I slowly melt into the ground while watching my breath. I have survived. I am strong. I am beautiful. 

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    For most people the year ends on December 31st and the new year begins the following day. The holiday is symbolic for the breaking of past habits to give way to resolutions and self-growth. The new year brings hope for change and a chance for redemption. It provides us with fresh opportunities for individual improvement and success.

    But for me, in 2014 my New Year's Eve changed to January 18th because that was the day that Love saved my life, allowing the following day to bring in a new beginning; a new year full of faith, hope, forgiveness, strength, and perseverance. This year of 2015 and every year yet to come will be that and so much more. 

    Happy New Year, folks. It's going to be a great one. 

The Tao of the Zambezi River

I can't breathe. 

The sun rays beam through the water above me, and I reach towards the light, but I can't seem to break the surface. A strong current pushes me upward but a large wave crashes on top of me violently pulling me down again. Involuntarily I suck water into my lungs and panic, fighting for the surface. I'm so weak. I'm no match for this liquid tug of war even with a life jacket strapped tightly around my torso. Spinning around and around, being pushed up and down and thrown from side to side, I realize the only thing I can do is stop trying to control the river. My only choice is to stay calm and ride out the rest of the rapid. Go with the flow.

Finally, I'm able to catch a break. I breach the surface and gasp for air. The choppy waves still knock me around but at least now my head is above the water. I see the kayaker battling the current with his oar to get closer to me. Frantically reaching towards him I grab a hold of his kayak. He asks me repeatedly if I'm okay and tells me not to panic. Before I know it my friends are pulling me back into the raft, and my respiratory system is working overtime to raise the levels of oxygen in my bloodstream. We grab our oars and dig forcefully into the water when the rafting guide yells, "Forward!" and continue with our adventure. 

Why do we adventurers love testing our mortality? So many brushes with death yet we continuously engage in more adrenaline pumped activities that seem to raise a middle finger up to God. For those who are more comfortable avoiding any sort of risky behavior they may think we don't respect the fragile nature of life, but I believe it's quite the opposite. 

Adventurers of all types constantly remind themselves of the sweetness of being alive. They respect the trials and tribulations that make them stronger because there is not a single challenge they can't face head on. When we push our limitations we are forced to face the reality that we are small and out of control compared to the grand scheme of things. Sure, we can make our own choices, but it's up to the elements around us to decide the results. When we look death in the eye we can really appreciate the miracle of life, the ephemeral nature of existence. 

There is symbolism all around us and in everything we do. The Zambezi River teaches a great message. Stop fighting the flow. What's the point in making everything so much harder on yourself when you're going to end up in the same place anyway? Take a deep breath when you can, calm down, and everything will work out. 

I'm not saying you can't appreciate life to it's fullest unless you're an adventurer. You don't have to jump off a bridge or out of an airplane, swing through a gorge, or raft down one of the world's most intense rivers to understand what it means to be alive. Beauty is to be found even in the simplest of things. But when life becomes stagnant, I think it's important to light a spark with a bit of fear. 

Allow yourself the opportunity to grow outside of your comfort zone and life will reward you in an endless amount of ways. You are the only one stopping yourself from reaching your full potential. How long will you stand in your own way?

I'll Tell You What Love Is

The bar was crowded with teenage angst and cups and bottles and shots filled with liquid to chase unknown pills down rebellious throats. The loud and steady bump from the bass strained normal conversation so words were useless. I sat on the floor near the entrance in the corner with the shivering Great Dane, the only spot in that place where I felt I belonged. She was anxious from the crack of fireworks ending the year below the equator. The sticky Zimbabwean humidity formed beads of sweat on my face, or maybe I was just picking up her anxiety. The beast went unnoticed by the crowd despite her enormous size. A creature so large, yet so scared, and nobody else seemed to care. I slowly rubbed my thumbs up and down her snout and told her without words that it will be over soon. People will slowly begin to pair off to fill their beds with strangers, and others will carry their disoriented friends away. It will be over soon. In my best attempts to soothe her with my company, I ran my hand down her spine, and then my hand ran into his. He touched her with the same purpose, to calm her mind and to ease her loneliness. In silence we breathed in unison as we gently pulled our fingers through her fur. Her consistent shakes slowly began to fade to only waves with a tranquil stillness in between. Her breathing slowed, and she let us love her. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes. Our eyes locked, and I knew at that moment that part of our purpose is to guide those that are scared, confused, and those that need to be loved.

He is my best friend because he knows that innocence should be protected. He knows that love knows no boundary. He's my best friend because I no longer have to sit alone in a crowded room. He's my best friend because my actions need no explanation. He understands my concern for a more compassionate world, and doesn't tell me I'm naive when I choose a path of forgiveness and patience. 

A few days earlier he asked me why I love him but so many words flooded the opened gate that I nearly drowned. That single moment with the dog slowed the wild river of reasons why I love him into a stream that I could easily keep up with. 

I love him because he counts the stars with me at night and never underestimates the miraculous nature of the sky. I love him because he appreciates stillness and silence. I love him because he doesn't just hear me talk, he listens with care. I love the excitement in his voice when he tells me a story and the intense gaze in his eyes afterwards when he realizes I was hanging on every word. I love him because we can sit outside on his porch, drinking wine, and listening to music without rushing to be anywhere else. I love him because we defy our own limitations using each other as motivation. I love the way he uses words to express difficult concepts and the way he opens his mind to constantly learn. He is humble, he is generous, and he is kind. I love him because he gives and doesn't expect anything in return. I love him because he takes me for who I am, whether I'm serious, sad, or silly in whichever fleeting moment. I love him because I can peer over the edge of my novel and watch him reading his at the same time. I love that he doesn't care who is watching when he kisses me, and that he holds my hand even in a culture where it's considered to be taboo. I love him because this list could go on until an entire book is full. I always thought I knew what romantic love is. I thought I wasn't fit for it. But now that I've found my other half I realized I've been waiting for him my entire life. 

Once the dog seemed more calm than when we first approached her we walked away to grab some food before getting a ride back to the tent. A few minutes later I glanced over towards the corner, and she was gone. I left with my hand in his knowing that his hand will be the last I will ever hold.