It has been sometime since I've updated. I feel that this a reflection of how settled and content I am in my Caribbean life. It no longer feels like an adventure I need to share with everyone, but rather simply, just is. Life here really is how it's meant to be for me, in this moment in time. It's difficult to predict the "chicken and egg" of this peacefulness. I believe the sea is ultimate zen for me. It really provides me with a sensation of being sat before something sacred and nourishing. Perhaps it is the ionizing force of the sea, perhaps it is the sheer beauty of the sea. I don't know, nor do I feel the need to seek the answers. It simply is what it is. And, I am fully confident, it certainly is where I am meant to be.
Mid September to Mid October brought me further balance when I completed the 30 day yoga challenge at a studio here. The challenge was to attend 30 classes in 30 days, and I chose to do this through a daily practice (except for a couple of make-ups). It is not news to me that a day with yoga is dramatically different from a day without... but, it did still surprise me just how much of a difference a daily practice made for me. The month, while definitely instilling a bit of a scramble to pack classes in, found me the most centered I have ever been. Time on my mat, deeply concentrated on nothing other than my breath and pose is thoroughly restorative. It is such a personal experience, and such a spiritual experience - and difficult to put into words concise enough to be digested by non-yogis. So, I will digress with this quote by the founder of the Iyengar Yoga method. It seems to capture my emotion:
"Yoga releases the creative potential of Life. It does this by establishing a structure for self-realization, by showing how we can progress along the journey, and by opening a sacred vision of the Ultimate, of our Divine Origin, and final Destiny. The Light that yoga sheds on Life is something special. It is transformative. It does not just change the way we see things; it transforms the person who sees. It brings knowledge and elevates it to wisdom."
~B.K.S. Iyengar
Deciding to attend a 4-day Adventure Yoga retreat in Honduras in November came at a very complimentary time to my practice. Post challenge, I had restored back to choosing when to practice/where to practice, and was enjoying the freedom of that choice. Off we went. With two beautiful teachers from my studio here, and a group total of 19 participants, we hopped on over (an hour flight) to Honduras very early on Friday morning of a holiday weekend. Arriving in Honduras provided the refreshment arriving in different cultures always does. The view from the plane provided promise, with lush mountain landscapes and more green than the eye could absorb. The weekend was jam packed - to be honest, with more adventure than yoga – and, the adventure began immediately after arriving with a zipline tour through the jungle. There is something freeing about behaving like a half-monkey/half-bird in such unspoiled surroundings, and the hours spent doing so proved to be just that. Once the rope course was complete, we lazed about in a natural hotspring. I painted my body with a botanical mud concocted by a young girl, and let it's nutrients seep into my skin before rinsing it off in waterfall entering the hotspring. Bliss.
Day two of the weekend provided an unexpected experience for me, that I still struggle expressing. The weekend was promoted by my teachers with the phrase "Embrace your fears". There was meant to be an element of reaching without of your comfort zone, in order to achieve a sense of self-satisfaction in having surpassed a wall or fear. I didn't realize that white-water rafting would provide that "wall" for me. I can say I was never interested in white water rafting, but didn't realize that fear was creating that disinterest until I found myself standing amongst boulders the size of buildings and water rushing at speeds that seemed to indicate "Danger!". Having always been a water baby, and never having been afraid of water, I was quite confused to find my body communicating to me "No. Afraid. Don't go", when entering this force of water with 4 others in a small raft. The Rio Cangrejal is such a stunning place to be. It is also so.... utterly primal. At the base of a waterfall some several hundred metres above in the jungle, the river proved to be one of the most natural places I have ever witnessed. Words can't explain the sensation standing before such monstrous boulders, and the lack of comprehension for something so primitive. We live in worlds flattened by concrete, decorated with glass, and lit up with florescence. I choose to spend most of my free time in nature, and claim to feel connected with nature - but never have I felt I understood the element of Earth until gazing at these rocks and their formation along the river/ the river's formation amongst them. The speed at which the water rushed through these rocks and the rapids, I do not know. In fact, there is very little about rafting I do know. Except now; I have done it, and don’t feel the need to do it ever again. Is that fear speaking? Yes. Shouldn't I want to overcome that fear? Not right now. Somewhere near the beginning of our 3 hour rafting experience, our raft tipped at the beginning of a set of rapids. The details of this event are like snapshots in my head... like flashes of scenes in a movie used to portray panic in a characters thoughts. They look something like this;
Raft against boulder; rushing water; one man almost in; grab his ankle, pull him back in; raft sliding further up rock; rushing water; guide's face, big eyes; largest man in the boat going in, grappling at raft edges; raft sliding further up boulder; rushing water.... rushing water.... rushing water... in the water; under the water; head out of the water, grab raft; guide's face and words "FEET UP"; blackness..... water; water in my nose, water in my lungs; water in my ears, eyes, water in my being, water in my soul; water forcing my body against it's will through time and space at a speed I cannot comprehend; rocks... rocks.... rocks bashing my body, rocks in my shinbones; where is up?; where is down; where is air.... where is AIR? Sensation elimination (no sight, no sound) I am still underwater; my body feels like a heavy wet sweater in a washing machine; swirling, whirling, tangling in itself; WHERE IS AIR?; arms up... raft. RAFT! I am under the raft; thrash, thrash, thrash; rock bashes my back... water in nose, in lungs, in eyes... where is air?; thrash; thrash; trash; fight, fight, fight; I cannot move the raft from over my head, I am not in an air-pocked, I cannot surface, I cannot breathe, I am running out of air; thrash.... thrash.... thrash..... thrash.... thrash.... then, calm. Peace. Solitude. "This is it. This is how I will go". Calm. Arms down. Calm. Peace. Solitude. Calm. Release final molecules of air from my lungs, then a slow-motion sensation of being pushed by the water to the surface.... air... BREATHE. BREATHE.
The moment I accepted that this was my final moment and stopped thrashing, fighting, kicking, panicking, my body was pushed out from under the boat by the rushing water and pulled to the surface by the buoyancy of my life jacket. Air, air, sweet, sweet air. We were not in the clear and continued to rush through water, boulders, rapids for another 10 seconds before we reached a bit of a pool and the guide pulled us up on top of the overturned raft and paddled us ashore. Ashore, all I could do was gasp, breathe, gasp, breathe. Confusion. Air. Confusion. Air. It’s impossible to know how long I was stuck under the raft without air being tossed and turned in a circular motion like a ragdoll. It was likely 20-30 seconds, but easily felt like hours. I’d like to believe I could hold my breath for longer than 20-30 seconds, but in sheer terror and thrashing I felt like my breath ran out in about 3.2 seconds. The most terrifying seconds of my life, by far.
Making it through the next 2 hours of rafting to complete the course was by far the most challenging thing I have ever done. I desperately wanted to quit, bail, scream, cry, RUN. For the remainder of the river, I saw nothing but the paddle of the man in front of me. Hyper-focusing on it, and allowing anything beyond it to blur into the background just as through a camera lens with a short depth of field would, was both a coping mechanism for my stress about being on the river and an escape behaviour. Onwards we went….. stopping for a moment to choose whether we’d like to plunge into a calm part of the river off a 25 foot rock overhang. I decided the plunge would make me feel better, and surprisingly it did. I somehow felt cleansed by the river. Perhaps fostered by the fact that I had taken control back over choosing to enter it this time, and being strong enough to navigate it’s calmer current. Once the journey was over, returning to our lodgings for lunch and yoga I felt the first bit of calm since the ordeal, and vowed to never again contemplate rafting at this level. Normally after experiences like that there is a sense of accomplishment, or completion. For some reason, I am completely devoid of those emotions on this one. I simply will never enter a raft again. I am typically opposed to allowing fear to create roadblocks in my life, but 100% comfortable with admitting I am too afraid to ever do this again. Maybe one day, for some crazy reason, this will change for me. At this point it seems highly unlikely.
Day three of the weekend brought much needed peace, restoration, and calm. After a short swim across the same moving river to the base of Pico Bonito mountain on the adjacent side, a day long bouldering/hiking adventure commenced. This was more my style, to say the least. My go-go-gadget gangly limbs and spiderman grappling skills were tickled pink at this phase in the journey, and I simply loved it. After a short yoga session at the mountain base, we began our ascent lead by a 70year old Honduran man wearing rubber boots and a warm smile. Allegedly, he climbs Pico Bonito every day (whether he has people wanting a tour or not). The first 20 minutes of our ascent were done in silent meditation. It was wonderful to experience the initial part of the trek this way, and only when we stopped at the first waterfall 20 minutes up were we able to speak to each other. The beauty of that first waterfall left most of the group with very little to say, however. There were some giggles in that 20 minutes as every member of our 21 person long line somehow stepped in the same red ant nest. Luckily ankle and leg-slapping were permitted! After a brief swim in the cool pool collecting water from the waterfall, we ventured on. Onwards and upwards, we clambered up slippery-mossy rocks, through streams, sometimes requiring the use of ropes for safety. We took time to touch and connect to trees over 250 years old, their roots firm but roping in and out of the earth. It took close to 3 hours to make it to the greatest waterfall the mountain is home to, some 250 metres high. Words can’t describe the brilliance and beauty standing under that waterfall provided. The sheer force of the rushing water, and the primordial story attached to it created a sensation of pure awe-inspired bliss. Comprehending the vastness of it, as well as how such giant pieces of the earth could have fallen down from that mountain and landed at it’s base, was impossible for me. Standing nearby the fall, with mist creating gooseflesh all over my body I felt simply in awe of my surroundings. I felt miniscule in the grand scheme of the world; as tiny as an organism striving to survive in the moss covering the rocks supporting my weight on the earth. It brought a lot of peace to my heart, and enriched my soul with it’s beauty.
Well Done!!
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