Coasting...

Living in Asia I got inspired daily.... Constantly Turned on by symbolic lessons that I would discover all around me as I traveled.

Since I've been home In California I've felt a pretty intense comedown... A crash back into this life I know so well and have run so far to be away from... And I think a part of me has closed up since returning home. I find myself crawling under my duvet to study biology and Spanish, telling myself I'll get out later to practice yoga or go for a run or socialize but then just falling asleep instead.
I am being stimulated in a different way now- through school and study- where things are spelled out for me on blackboards and in expensive textbooks, but I miss the kind of life where things happen that inspire me to write a blog about them.
It's been a long time...

I know that i created this life and I'm living it. Doing the best I can and forcing a smile onto my face as I do it, but in reality I feel very depressed and sad most of the time.

This morning I woke up with dark grey clouds above my head, literally and figuratively, and knew I needed to motivate myself to exercise. Endorphins are the only medicine I can count on to pull me back to myself.

I went to a long, very challenging, heated yoga class that quite literally cooked me. I found myself giving about 10% of what I was capable of giving in poses I've been practicing for over a decade... Poses I have taught to tons of people all around the world over the last 5 years...
But I just didn't feel I had it in me to fully twist in- to fully reach down, or even to fully hold in the pose for as long as the teacher was instructing us to.

The long haired san diego surfer yogi dude with the sing songy voice cooed as he came by from time to time and adjusted me.
He would touch my back or hips, expecting to coerce another inch from my body and found another twelve. He kept giggling to himself as though he was touching a ball of clay.

The last 30 minutes I just lay on my back and breathed. I fought tears for a moment and then started repeating a spontaneous mantra to myself... "I am brave. I am brilliant. I am beautiful. I am love. I am light. I am bliss."
Over and over again I said those words to myself, distracting my destructive mind that was eager to slip into self-pity and disappointment in myself.

After class, I saw my teacher in the lobby and gave him a quick thank you.

"those adjustments okay?" he asked

I immediately wanted to launch into a story - defending my lack of work in class- i wanted to explain about how I am kind of depressed and ever since I got malaria in april, my body and brain have been not right and I haven't been practicing even though I've wanted to... And blah blah blah - every excuse in my book.

"yes. Thank you. I'm just taking it easy." I said simply...

And maybe that's all it was. Maybe that was true, I suddenly realized. Maybe I've just been taking it easy since April. Giving myself a break to just cruise. And maybe there's nothing wrong with that.

My teacher smiled and tucked his long hair behind his ears...
"man... I try to convince my students every day to do that. You're just coasting! That's so awesome. Keep it up! Don't stop coasting! It's inspiring."

Whoa.
Did he just say he was inspired by what i have been seeing as my weak, laziness?

I think here in this world we are all in such a rush... In such fierce competition... In such a crazy push all the time- that I guess it is kind of awesome to just coast.

I was never this hard on myself when I got home from traveling. In fact, I felt like the whole of San Diego was in hyperspeed... Even the soft spoken surfer types seemed like they were speeding around- in such a rush- staring at  clocks and phones to keep in time with this crazy place.

I no longer feel behind the pace. I've acclimated to this timing here, but it's so good to remember that doing less is okay and coasting is kind of awesome.

San Diego I guess

America's Finest Timelapse from XOXO Wedding Studio on Vimeo.

Cardiff, San Diego - September 7, 2012 So... I guess i live here now.

I still don't know what to say when people ask me where I live.

I was out surfing with my friend Tawney the other day and a guy asked us where we lived. She said Venice, I stuttered and said "I guess i am living in Cardiff now."
It's almost like I have a phobia of saying i live somewhere, as though i will get stuck and never get free again.
But I have to keep telling myself over and over and over again that i CHOSE to be here.
i CREATED this reality and not only that... but it is a great reality that affords me these incredible opportunities most people can only dream of.

First of all, I live in Cardiff-By-the-Sea, California. Less then 12,000 people get to call this little nook of Encinitas hOMe and I do. I get to have a Cardiff zipcode and not only that, but I get to live here for free... in my parent's beautiful house... with maids who clean my sheets and vaccum my room and tidy my shelves.

Yet somehow just this morning i thought about how much i hate the way the maids make my bed... and then stopped and shook myself. Whoa. Who am i?

I flopped down on the floor and meditated... i watched myself breathing... and then i watching my mind as it watched me breathing.
Becoming aware of being aware.
It's a weird thing... and it pulled me back to the me that i get so scared of losing.

Ever since i was a kid i hide my most valuable, prized possessions... shove them way down at the bottom of a drawer or under my pillow but then i never see them and eventually i forget they exist altogether.

I'm trying to make alters... honoring and respecting the things i treasure the most... externally and internally.

I am swaying from side to side a LOT these days... drifting too far one way and then back too far the other way... Still trying to find an equilibrium... Still trying to figure out where the sweet spot is where i can find balance while going to school.

As of right now i am seeing that the important things i need to balance are School (Biology, Spanish and Math), Work (Nannying, Graphic/Branding and Writing), Music (Playing guitar and writing songs), Yoga, meditation & surfing (which all fit in the same category as physical/spiritual health)

I made a vision board at the foot of my feet i look at every day to remind me of what i am working towards.

Sometimes I feel like I am serving a 4 year prison sentence - jailed in claustrophobic institutions with freezing cold A/C and horrible halogen lights... looking at numbers projected on a wall that i am supposed to memorize somehow with my foggy brain.
I cry after every math class. I get so defeated, but I am holding space and remembering the goal and trusting that i can do this.

Afterall, I live in San Diego and go to a school surrounded by red rock cliffs, blocks from the beach and an hour from Mexico. I'm not THAT far away from the other world... I could just run for it and do that Tijuana border crossing run backwards... Escaping this life and running towards what i consider freedom.

kingdom of fear & the journey home.

"the quick electric keys are my instrument, my harp, my RCA glass-tube microphone, and my fine soprano saxophone all at once.  That is my music, for good or ill, and on some nights it will make me feel like a god."

-Hunter S Thompson "Kingdom of Fear"

… Writing is the only thing that keeps me sane… that makes me feel normal.

Especially when my mind is spinning, my stomach is in knots, and my heart is tangled up so tight its like a chain that has been inside a moldy bag in the corner of a boat out at sea, and gotten so twisted and rusted and screwed up from the ocean air so bad that there is no point in even trying to salvage it… so you dump it and let it fall to the bottom of the deep sea and let go of it.

I'll find a new one when the time is right.

I have been writing letters to nobody… I've been writing letters to somebodies… I've been writing words just to write, because like Hunter S Thompson, it's my music… its my word vomit and i've been pretty sick lately.

I left paradise island (Togat Nusa Retreat) and every time i do that, i seem to get physically sick. It's like my body rejects the idea of leaving paradise and perfection… or maybe it's just rejecting what i always leave the island and go towards.

I experienced one of the scariest, ugliest things i've ever seen when i got to Padang, and even now, nearly a week later, on a boat out at sea, i am still sick from it all.

I can't wait to get home, to safety and security and sanity… to intelligence, and elegance, and eloquence.

I feel like i have had a relationship lately with my keyboard. I can tell it anything. I write to it constantly and it just listens and reads back to me what i needed to get off my chest, the way Tawney and those who have done Cafe Gratitude workshops seem to be able to do so well… to reiterate what i said to them in the first place.

Just hearing back what you feel empowers you and makes you feel heard.

Even though the only thing hearing me is an inanimate keyboard, but Hunter S Thompson understands me…

I'm taking breaks between sleeping, crying, writing letters that nobody will ever read, swimming, eating, drinking, and staring out at the rippling waters dancing beside the boat to read "Kingdom of Fear" - Thompson's crazy face nonsensical rambling autobiography… it actually makes me feel relatively normal. 

My life is in transition… again… as usual… as always.

I guess this is just how its gonna roll.. always changing.. always creating a new, dramatic, fucked up chapter in my life story… in my own crazy face nonsensical rambling autobiography i will write one day that might make someone feel relatively normal one day.

------

Days later… i am not so sick anymore, though most of the guests on this charter have gotten what i had, some kind of Giardia, which is the last thing you want to have while on a boat with 14 guys, but hey. those are the cards you're dealt sometimes so you roll with it.

The strangers who have become my friends here on this floating, rocking, rolling boat of constantly evolving and changing perspective and emotion for me… they have  been like mirrors held up for me to remember what i need to remember and see what i need to see.

At this moment in time we are cruising north along a very windy, bumpy sea that makes it nearly impossible to walk through the narrow corridors of the charter boat.

We are heading to Lances Left where my friend Ben has a resort called Kingfisher. When we were there a  few days ago, Ben wasn't around and I was so sad to have missed him… but thankfully the last few days at a wave called Macaronis has fulfilled the quota for the boys so we are heading back towards Ben's place where I will be grateful to get on land and find steady ground again, and also to visit with my friend who traveled Nepal last year while I was in India.

A few days ago we stopped at 'Bat Caves' which is a wave that wraps around a tiny perfect island with 47 palm trees and a million birds.

The tender boat dropped me off on the island to collect shells and pieces of red coral before zipping around to drop the boys on the wave. One of the guests later told me that they all call me "Bo" now since when i got off the boat and walked towards the island into the sun that was dropping behind the palm trees I looked like Bo Derrick from the movie "Ten" which i haven't seen but want to now.

Shayne has been sleeping a lot (as usual) but in the last few days actually gotten up and been going out for a surf and or dive and i can see his improvement. He  had a hard time in Padang and then we both got this Giardia B.S. a few days into the trip.

Finally it seems like we are coming right as the Aussie's would say.

I am DAYS away from being back in California and I can hardly wait.

I  don't remember feeling this excited to come home… ever.

I love being the gypsy traveling daughter… and i always groan and hate the responsibility of having to go back home and deal with the real world, but for some reason i am itching to get back… i am dreaming of hugging my Dad and cuddling on the green couches with Rosie the pup… and of course thinking about my mom every single day.

I keep thinking about how i want a Kombucha and Kale chips ASAP… then for dinner i want the greasiest mexican food i can get… nachos with extra guacamole and sour cream and those little carrots and peppers that are on the side with the salsa…

and about four huge blended margaritas.

Then when i wake up the next morning i will start cleansing  - juicing with the veggies from my parents garden and get a liver cleanse before going to the doctor to get everything post-malaria finally checked out by a western doctor.

I can't wait to unpack the boxes that are in the attic above my dad's studio…

I can't wait to go for a run along the beach in Encinitas and breathe in California...

I can't wait to take a yoga class where they have to turn the heat up to make us sweat (ha!)

I can't wait to go to Whole Foods and buy expensive but beautifully prepared and packaged raw foods…

I can't wait to lay on the huge Oriental rugs in my parent's living room with my arms spread out to the sides.

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I'm in Batam which is a small island in the Indonesian archipelago which calls nearly 18,000 islands hOMe… but this one looks out across a small channel at Singapore - a bustling first world, english speaking, expensive and somewhat irregular growth on Southeast Asia, not unlike Hong Kong….

Ferries run every hour on the hour from Batam to Singapore and with any luck I will be on board one soon.

I met Pak Bukhori (which sounds an awful lot like "Broccoli"), the overweight Indonesian man who had hypertension, walked with a limp, and sat next to me in exit row 12 on our Batavia Air flight from Padang into Batam.  He spoke impeccable English after living a life spent working around the world in various businesses…. We fell into a deep metaphysical conversation on the plane. (As you do)

I asked him straight up about his religion, Islam. The religion of billions of people in this country I have been calling home over the last few years.

Pak Broccoli told me that in the year 700, the profit Muhammed was just a normal guy who couldn't read or write and had this seemingly spontaneous enlightenment at age 40 when this overwhelming river of divine information came through him and he continues to receive the teachings from God until he died at age 63.  All the teaching came from his mouth and were dictated by the literate onto cow hide and bones and anything they could write the Arabic on to.

He said the teachings of the Qur'an are basically at the core, the same as all religions (something i make note of often).. Be good, don't do bad things, live morally, act with compassion, love all beings of God.

I asked him about Holy War.

He said "Zani… God is so powerful, he doesn't need you to fight for him."

I really liked that.

He continued to tell me that according to Islam, killing yourself is one of the worst sins you can commit as a Muslim. You did not create yourself so it's not UP to you to end it.  According to his lifelong study of the Qur'an, nowhere does it condone the acts of radical Jihadists.

People read what they want to read and hear what they want to hear… you see this throughout society and all over the world but especially, I find, with religion.

I told my new friend that people were missing "wawasan luas" - which means a broad insight.

He smacked my arm and smiled so big when i said it.

"EXACTLY!"

He reminded me of the old story where a group of people stand around an elephant with narrow blinders on.

One says "Oh. this animal is smooth and white and long and sharp, like a bone."

One says "no. no. this animal is long and wiggly like a snake"

Another says "oh no, it's big and round and wrinkly and feels like sandpaper."

Nobody is seeing the whole elephant so nobody is completely right and everyone is completely missing the whole thing.

-------------

Pak Broccoli offered to drive me to the ferry but was in a rush so he couldn't wait for my bags, which i was standing at the wrong carousel anyways.

I managed to get to Singapore and get in the taxi queue, immediately striking up a conversation with a nice older Australian man who lived and worked in Singapore. He was a little too flirty for a man with a wedding ring on his hand if you ask me, but soon enough our taxis came and i got in with an Indian driver.

I had just been talking to the Aussie guy about India and explaining why i loved it so much.

I fell right back into to talking about India as soon as I got in the taxi and started heading for the Changi airport.

"Okay, okay, including the food, the culture, the scenery, the people…. which is your favorite? India, Thailand or Indonesia?"

AGHHHHH. he asked me such an impossible question.

Comparing green curry, papaya salad, pad thai, beautiful Theravada buddhist temples and stunning islands…. to Malai Kofta and Aloo Paratha, chai and doses, mango lassi, the chaos and celebration of death in Varanasi, the beauty of the Ganga in the North, the Himalayas, Dharamshala and the home in exile to the Dalai Lama…. to Indonesian Gado-Gado, Nasi Goreng, Cabe spicy everything, the beaches and tribal culture of the Mentawai islands to the explosion of palm trees and lush lakes and mountains of Sumatra and divinity (albeit raped by tourism) of the magical island kingdom of Bali…

I just can't choose and I didn't.

I got out of the taxi and left my sweet Indian friend hanging. He even gave me a deal on the fare.

------------

I left the mentawais at 1pm on July 4th when Kaimana pulled anchor and started cruising at about 9 knots, back East towards Sumatra and into a storm that tossed us around all night for about 13 hours.

at 1am on July 6th i was waiting in a Singapore starbucks for the minutes to click by. The Malaysia Airlines counter regrettably told me that i couldn't check in for 7 hours and would not be able to enjoy the amenities inside the airport - which allegedly include a movie theatre and places to sleep and everything. No instead, i am drinking cloudy apple juice and reading Hunter S Thompson, occasionally being woken up by a Starbucks personnel who tells me in a thick accent that i cannot sleep here to which i smile, nod and moments later nod off into my light sleep once again.

I decided i will keep local Mentawai time to figure out exactly how long this journey home takes me.

I think it's somewhere around 60+ hours.

I did however get a heads up from the Malaysia Airlines girls about my bags… it doesn't matter the weight - it just can't be more then 2 bags or they will charge me several hundred dollars. (ridiculous rule)… so i had to repack my bags and make my heaviest one weight only 7kg and will have to carry it on, since the dimensions of a guitar case and the big green backpack I've carried around the world over the last year could never reach carry-on size.

Fingers and toes crossed this all goes down without a hitch.

I kind of feel like I am dealing with a big travel here… lots of patience and waiting and sitting and staring at clocks willing them to go by… so maybe just maybe they could cut a break and let this all work out well for me.

Who is they?

I guess I was refereeing to Malaysia Air, but it felt more like i was referring to the many Gods that are sitting in the first class lounge sleeping on lazy boy recliners getting foot massages from little Singapore ladies while i get shaken awake, smile, nod, and nod off again.

Wow. I am becoming Hunter S Thompson crazy here as this early morning crawls like a stoned sloth towards 4am when the counter will open.

Thats all for now.

Gotta get through the next 25 hours or so and i'll be home FREEEEEEEEE

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65 hours in transit, some greasy nachos at El Napolitos, and i am hOMe.

come see me in San Diego. I'm staying put for a while.

Affluenza

4pm - Padang, West Sumatra - the Havilla Maranatha lobby

An hour  before .... Covered in black sand filth and fully clothed but soaking wet from the highly questionable waters of Padang, we walked back towards the hotel dodging traffic and animatedly talking about the impromptu mini surf lesson I'd just be given by my new friend Ryan.

He hadn't given me a choice and told me if I didn't come with him in 4 minutes, he would drag me by my hair, so reluctantly I obliged as he grabbed a random surfboard off the wall in the lobby and off we went towards the nasty water on the coast.

We briskly trotted along the coconut trees and rocks on the shore... 

I continuously tried to talk my way out of having to get into the water as we ducked under wires and shimmied past gudang huts with rusted roofs and palm frown walls selling fruit and nasi... 

Insisting that we go further away from the river mouth where the Maura (which might be the dirtiest river in the world) dumps out into the Indian Ocean, staining the water putrid brown.Finally I started seeing some blue and realizing i was not getting out of it, I slipped off my shoes and agreed to paddle out into the little point break that was creating waves of half water, half garbage provided I didn't have to put my head under. 

"Fine." he said. "Deal."

In under a minute a wave started to peak and he quickly said "you're going under" before tucking the nose of the little board under the wave and popping us up on the other side. 

"Well now your wet, so get over it." and off he went on his unique paddling theory that he regularly teaches in Bali.

(As soon as i found this out I regretted telling him that I don't surf.)

Of course the lesson was over quickly when he realized that I completely know what I'm doing physically... That it really is just a bunch of mental blocks that prevent me from surfing out in the mentawais.

While heatedly debating on the walk home, shutting me down every time I pulled an excuse out of my heavy box of excuses that I tote around with me, we came to the crazy intersection where traffic goes in 11 different directions without a roundabout, stop light or single rule- just everyone goes and somehow it works out...

A little indo guy peddled up to us on his bicycle rikshaw flatbed thing.

 "gratis?" Ryan asked as the man nodded and we hopped on, hitching a ride up the street.

Ryan stood up at first riding teen-wolf style and then sat down to talk me out of my head a little more as the hot midday sun beat down on our still un-showered bodies. (every minute that went by i felt myself contracting cholera or typhoid or something and made little puking gag noises.)

"You're pissing me off!" he said honestly but still with the encouragement and enthusiasm of a big brother who wouldn't be giving up any time soon.

"You are politely turning down opportunity while I'm grasping and clawing at anything I can get."

He explained what I already know and have heard a million times about how surfers all over the world are sitting in offices dreaming, aching, willing to give body parts away to be where I am and have the opportunities I have. He made it seem like I don't even know what it's like to struggle and want for anything... 

And the more I thought about it, the more I think he's right. 

He's from South Africa and has overcome obstacles and that as an American from Pacific Palisades no less, I just don't understand.It's a classic case of affluenza.

The sickness of affluence... endless opportunity that are presented to me while I don't take advantage of or grab onto because of the belief that there is so much more abundance, i don't NEED it, so why should i take it? 

Easier to just cruise, right? But of course, this is exactly what I was confronted with in India, when trekking with my best buddy Baba Aaron who i debated a similar thing... - 

http://aloveninja.blogspot.com/2011/12/theres-always-daisies.html 

(here's my piece i wrote on it last year)I had no desire or will to make it to the top of the trek. 

I was perfectly happy just cruising and staying down below when it got too hard.My willingness to give up, despite wanting something...It's not a good trait to have.

A group of us huddled around Stanley's laptop the day before,  standing and sitting in the lobby of the Havilla Maranatha in Padang as Ryan aka Bugsy aka Merman and the Naked Sea Life appeared on the computer screen playing a guitar while inside the barrel of a wave. (something that looks so unbelievably wicked, I can't even tell you.)

Ryan's smile was as big as the rest of ours... I was with 5 South African guys, 1 Aussie guest from Shayne's last charter and me.

Besides the overuse of the words "Bru" and "Shot" and other SA colloquialisms, it was a really fun day turned to night spent with the Saffer boys, sitting around the lobby drinking and laughing and telling stories.

They told me about the Wild Coast in South Africa, which sounds like a place i need to go to... the undeveloped, organic, alternative area of the country... well, at least thats how it sounds.

This is so the story of how i live my life... i spend some time with someone who excites me and tells me about a far away land and ZaniGo turns on the engine and is revving, ready to go explore and experience it.

Were I to have the money, I'd probably drop everything and go straight there before coming home to California... But thankfully, I have hit a low in my financial lifespan... It's nothing that i don't trust will work itself out and be fine, but I have no money left... at all.R

eal money or fake money (credit cards)...So its time for me to go home to my beautiful, affluent life that i am so blessed to have.

To live in the most beautiful, clean, gorgeous state of California... a place that will pay for me to go to school... live with my parents in their stunning home in Cardiff, San Diego and hussle for a bit.

I think maybe the only cure for affluenza is hard work.

I promised the Merman that I would work hard at overcoming by blocks and phobias about surfing... and i am committing to myself right now... I am going to make things work even when they are hard.

School, a long distance relationship, getting good at surfing, and making money.

Bye Bye affluenza, Hello hard work.

I think I'm ready

Last day in the Mentawais… for now.

My eyes fluttered open around 6:30am to see the last morning I'd spend on the island through the mesh of the pop-up mosquito net that was over me.

The waves crashed on the beach in the early morning light and i heard Beaker start to shift around and squeak, waking up in her cage that sits on the porch outside our rooms in 'Bungalow Empat.'

Ainsley came in my room  last night and reached under the mosquito net to pull a sleeping Beaker out of my bed and put her in the cage.

I was attached to my little monkey love since she had crawled into my arms and cuddled up on my chest after dinner last night, falling asleep in her usual position, her little hands stuck under my armpits, breathing heavily through her tiny lips.

The table was full of my friends, John & Ainsley, Terry the surf guide/magician, Brent the new Tasmanian chef, and Tom & Sas who came for the night to visit with their 2 year old son Jonah… Jonah is exactly Beaker's age and they have grown up together out here in the Mentawais. Best friends their whole lives. Its outrageously cute.

Everyone at the dinner table was in conversation as i zoned out and started feeling Beaker's little chest rising and falling against mine as she slept.  Jo-Jo the dog came up and nuzzled next to my knee looking for a little affection as usual. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead on Beakers and with one hand on Jo-Jo I just started breathing at the same time as the animals I love so much… Just taking a little time-out to breathe as one.

When i opened my eyes,  literally everyone at the table was silent and staring at me in my moment with the monkey before we all started laughing… Typical.

It had been a long day.

I had woken up out on the boat and hung out until about 10am.  When i got back to the island, knowing it would be my last day there, i grabbed a surfboard and went for a paddle around the island, OMing into the waves and stoking the satin water with each stroke of my arms… sipping in the moment… looking over my right shoulder as i paddled with whole circumference of the 12 hectare jungle island - watching the driftwood and magic float by in a clockwise circle.

As soon as I got back to where i started and showered off,  Brent excitedly called me over to show me a baby turtle that had hatched from the 12 nests that were laid a few months back.

I held the baby for a moment while we directed him towards the water. His first day of life.

Turtles live for a really really long time. I think some live for something like 300 years.

And sea turtles always come back to the same beach to have their babies.

I was hanging out with this guy on his very first day of life… a life that (provided nothing goes awry) will outlast mine and my children's and THEIR children's…

I called out to him as he was swimming away into the satin blue waters and encouraged him to take care of himself and asked him say hello to the future for me.

It was kind of emotional for me.

Ainsley and I searched for his brothers and sisters who would have been hatching that day too… We sat on the beach with Beaker, Jo-Jo and Kitty looking and waiting for more turtles to hatch when we saw a dead sea snake… the black and white ones that are the most deadly thing out here in the Mentawais.

it was coiled and seemed to have two big fang mark holes on his back… the hermit crabs were already tucking in and eating it.

At the end of last year I dreamed about a snake and then saw 3 in 2 days after never having seen one the whole season.

A week ago i dreamed about snakes all night and then a dead one washed up on shore.

Things just happen like this here. Think and ye shall manifest into reality.

My mom wrote me the other day and reminded me that we are creating our realities. I had told her my idea to maybe go to medical school - and even if i stick with the original plan and go to nursing school - i am thinking about maybe applying to school in Hawaii.

It just seems like the best option for me… a person who thrives and feels whole in the tropics.

This morning Jonah and I put hibiscus flowers behind our ears while the monkey sat on the swing looking out at the charter boats docked while surfers sat in the lineup.  I thought about how cool Jonah will be when he grows up and tells people that he grew up in the Mentawais and his best friend was a monkey named Beaker.

Shayne pulled up in his tender with Stanley, his South African surf guide. Jonah pointed out at Shayne and kept asking what uncle was doing.

Everyone is uncle or auntie to Jonah. He is from this great big beautiful family that I have been so blessed to be a part of out here.

The Mentawai community continues to amaze me. Everyone takes care of one another and there is such a strong sense of support, even though it is spread out and sometimes you won't see your neighbors for months at a time.

Cahn, my friend who lived at Togat Nusa last year and is now the surf guide at a nearby land camp, lives just 45 minutes away by boat with his Mentawai wife Sue and daughter Kayla, but not many people have even met the baby yet.

I saw Cahn when i got back on Kaimana and told him i would come over to meet Kayla before we took off to Padang, but we didn't have time this trip, so i promised to go when i'm out here on the next trip.

It's emotional having bonds to people you rarely see.

I felt so far away from Ainsley and John when i was in the Telos, and now that I've been down here, i feel a million miles away from Michelle and Mario.

When Shayne is out at sea, although he is cruising around in the island chain, I sometimes won't see him for 2 or 3 weeks at a time and it feels like i might as well be in america.

The workers on the island sometimes have families on other islands that they only see a handful of times in the year… but like Jonah, all the kids out here have a million aunties and uncles so everyone is taken care of wherever they are.

I feel like i have a million brothers and sisters, aunties and uncles… dear friends that i have made over the last few years out here. 

I cried when I hugged Ainsley goodbye this morning. I had to turn around and walk back along the sandy path so i wouldn't get all gushy and start bawling. I just watched my bare feet trot through the sand and told myself i would walk this path again.

I don't know when i am going to see her again. I have no clue when i will be back here.

I am now totally in debt and maxed out on credit, so its not like i can really afford to drop in for a month or two next season. I will be starting school and need to really focus on that right now.

I told Ainsley i would see her soon… because "soon" is relative and she always tells me that life is long… and its true.

I know i will be back here one day. Maybe i will be nurse zani next time i am back, when Jonah is no longer a toddler and Beaker is a grown up…  But just like my little turtle buddy that will be back to lay his eggs here… I will come back one day too and I think a part of my heart will always be there no matter where i go.

For now, I am off to Padang on Kaimana for a few days and will come out one last time for the next charter on the boat… and then i head to Singpore and back to California.

The path keeps going.

Round and round it goes.

Where it ends? Nobody knows.

No return ticket.

so much laughter and love as of late!

The Frey family has been here. A Newport Beach Dad who brought his his 32 year old son Aaron, 24 year old daughter Leona, 21 year old son Joe, and 14 year old son, Jack.
The two older sons have ironic tatto's on their legs, surf the big waves that have been rolling through, and are scared of monsters.
The daughter, Leona is a copywriter from San Francisco and we are "defacto best friends" as I explained to the guys on the Indies Trader 4 boat last night when we went over there for drinks and they asked if we were sisters.
I guess its just the 20something girl who grew up in SoCal vibe that we both give off - although i must say, i do see myself in my new friend - yes - she is a younger, cuter version of the way i see myself- but i respect her wit and thoroughly have enjoyed our time practicing yoga and laying out on the beautiful beach here.
She was pretty dead set on being best friends with Terry, our resident magician (she had pre-conceived dreams of pulling scarves from her mouth as his assistant) but it's been nice to have a tanorexic buddy to soak in the sun and read while everyone else surfs.
Last but not least is Jack Frey, the awesome 14 year old who legitimately was a rubik's cube champion.
Yea... that means not only did he solve that thing once - he can do it on command and fast.
He's currently coaching me. It makes my brain hurt.

Being around this close knit family has of course made me miss mine and think about them all the time.

My sister Lara is getting married at the end of August and I am going home for it... and actually, believe it or not... STAYING home. roots are going down in to the earth.
whoa.

I remember right where i was when i got the call - standing on the rocks at Lennox Head, East Australia. Tawney, Holly and her pregnant girlfriend who's name i can't remember - were all about to get into the ocean when my Aussie cell phone rang and it was my family telling me that Lara was getting married!

I knew it was coming but didn't expect it so soon and to be honest i was totally selfishly deflated and frustrated that i would have to come all the way home for it... When i left for Australia on March 1st, I wanted to be on the road for a year... I wanted to arrive in Indo and not have a plan like i did last year - and i wanted to see where the wind took me.

Before i even got to Indo and the wind was flying me back home.

My dad told me over the Aussie phone that he would fly me home for the wedding and then back out to Indonesia or wherever i was at that time. This alleviated my selfish stress and allowed me to be happy for my sister and then started getting really really excited about the wedding.

As you may know, I had a pretty heavy time not long after arriving in the Telos Islands in Indo... I came down with malaria while massaging Clay Marzo, an amazing surfer who was staying at the resort while Surfing Magazine did a big shoot and made a movie of the boys that were there.

During moments of lucidity while i was fevering and chattering, writhing around in pain, getting rubbed down with car oil, red onion and salt by a local traditional medicine woman and getting injections of mystery red fluids into my hips -- I found myself thinking about the children in the world who are suffering and dying daily from this disease without access to medicine... and it was just this catalyst that i definitively decided to study medicine - put myself into school and just plant the roots down and make it happen.
(a MAJOR decision for a vagabond, wandering love ninja)

So all of a sudden that quick trip home to watch Lara wed Rob became the thing that was bringing me home for real. No return ticket.

My dad booked my flight 2 days ago and I officially leave Indonesia July 4th.
My bags are still up in the Telos which is stressing me out a little but i have made a request to all my friends who run charter boats to please oh please help me getting them back to Padang.

Last night our friend Erik, who is the capitan of the Indies 4 and fully has a pet green parrot that sits on his shoulder while he sails the high seas... real.
Ya... anyways, he came to the island with his guests who were all doctors and one happened to live in my hometown, Pacfic Palisades - which is such a trip!
Two of the guys were anesthesiologists and I ended up talking to them for a really long time about my goals moving forward and medicine and all these things that made me so excited, i stayed up until midnight (basically an all nighter in island terms) -- sitting on the helicopter landing pad on the roof of their boat having constellations pointed out to us with high powered green laser pointers, and then having a little guitar time. (Erik played piano man with a guitar and a harmonica between his knees which RULED)... He said he might be able to help get my bags... I am hoping to have everyone on the case so i can get my shiznit back safe.

This morning i woke up and was practicing yoga in the Uma all by myself, which is a first since the Frey's have been here. All of them are into yoga and i have been teaching usually twice a day... a power yoga session for Leona and I and then a restorative, broga yoga sesh for the boys after they surf which is the best!

They had all gone to the beach today and i was in the driftwood castle alone rocking out to S. Carey (Sean from Bon Iver's solo project) which is now my Go-To yoga tunes...
when it occurred to me that i should apply to nursing school in Hawaii!
Although I have never been there, which is ridiculous when you consider how much i have traveled and how much i love and am positive that i belong in the tropics...
But never-the-less... i decided that maybe after i do this year at San Diego getting my pre-requisites in order, i should move to Hawaii and do my course there...

Another thing that has been playing in my mind and i am for some reason entertaining the thought of actually going to medical school and maybe even becoming a doctor.
It's just SO much more work, and im not sure if i can really commit to being in school for that long.
We will have to see what happens after this first year in San Diego.

SO the countdown in on - 3 weeks and i am going home.

Bitter sweet to say the least.
I am devastated to be leaving my Mentawai Island community that i love so much - this island, John, Ainz, Yona & Beaker...
Although in my heart i know that i will be back one day, my rational brain doesn't see how that could be possible in the near future being that my credit card declined last week trying to book my ticket home.
It seems i hit 15 thousand - my max limit on the trusty old Virgin Atlantic Amex.

But as Ainz said to me today - life is weird and long and who knows what will happen.

On the bright side, I get to go see my amazing family,  start this journey that will eventually enable me to be of service to humanity in a big way, cuddle with Rosie the cutest dog of all time, and be a part of my older sister's wedding!! All of those things rule and are coming soon.

Separating Skies

 11 Jun 2012

You know when the clouds look like this?

It's like the clouds in the sky have been separated... Pulled apart by the fibers that usually hold together these fluffy balls of whatever they are... Water I guess.
That makes sense scientifically and symbolically too... Perpetually surrounded by water, we are. Well... I am.

I was talking last night about how much I love being onboard boats. I never get sea sick and feel so lulled and comforted by the swaying dancing seas.
I realized my mother is a dancer and was probably swaying and dancing around during the whole 9 months I spent in a sac of sacred ocean water-like fluid in her belly - my mother the vessel- just like a ship or sea vessel heaving and swaying with the tides.

My mom and dad love Robinson Jeffers- a poet from Carmel, the foggy seaside Northern California town I was born in.
They always had a piece of driftwood in their garden with the Jeffer's poem line "The Tides are in our veins" written on it in charcoal.

I cant tell you How often I repeat that line.

Right now I'm sitting - well more reclined then sitting but more upright then lying down- I'm slouched island-style with my feet up on a beautiful wooden bench that looks out between twin palm trees at the dazzling 4 oclock ocean that burns ainsley's eyes but she grins and bears it to surf the waves that peel along her reef while blinding white sunlight bounces off the glassy water and all but blinds her.
I'm propped up on one of her throw pillows looking at these clouds.

Last season she and johnE had 4 awesome hawaiian chicks come and stay- one was their goddaughter and the other 3 were her surfer girl buddies. One night I slept in the giant tent on a platform where bungalow 4 now stands a year later.
I am sleeping on the floor in the half finished living room of bungalow 4- the same place I slept with the hawaiian chicas.

During that week or so that the girls visited, we went down to the beach break which takes roughly an hour by boat to get to. A beautiful sandy beach without a single footprint or sign that humans even know it's there.
The white sand

I sat up at the bow of the sampan canoe we took out there baking in the sun as the wind whipped through my crackling, sun bleached hair.
The clouds were pulled at the seams that afternoon.
I don't know why exactly I remember that - a moment from almost a whole year ago- yet I can't remember important big things- like how to add and subtract.
I remember I started writing a piece in my head that boat ride but I really can't remember if I actually did or not when we got home to Togat Nusa Retreat.

I remember trying to figure out what it looked like -these clouds - like milk separation before it curdles, or a really bumpy icy patch you want to avoid when you're snowboarding. Or the way really nice buttery wood curls up when you whack it well with a chisel and hammer like I've been doing building my wooden Buddha the last few weeks.

On that canoe a year ago, it occurred to me that the clouds looked like this my last day in Venice - sometime in February of last year. I remember because it was one of the last pictures on my iphone that i looked at while i was taking off towards singpore by way of hong kong.
I was sitting on that flight so unsure of what the next few months would hold for me and was clinging to a life i loved and was scared to let go of behind me.
A life where i rode my beach cruiser down Abbot Kinney under separated skies and knew i was making a big separation by leaving the tribe i was a part of there in Venice.


On that canoe with JohnE and the Hawaiian girls, i started missing home a lot- I'd been gone for about 4 months.
Now its been a year and 4 months.
I visited Venice when i came home but my heart knew I wasn't done on the global journey yet and nothing was the same.. I certainly wasn't the same.
And i felt that there were still more crackling clouds to watch and adventures to be had abroad. I wasn't done on the adventure yet.

I tried to book my flight home yesterday and my card declined.

Thinking it was somehow some force telling me I shouldn't leave so soon - I quickly realized that it was more of a sign that I spent 15,000 dollars and maxed out my Amex pretending I was Carmen San Diego and traveling the world.

Since I left last year my travel destinations have been this:
San Francisco
Hong Kong
Singapore
Batam
Padang
Mentawais
Padang
Bukittingi
Lake meningjau
Padang
Mentawai
Padang
Jakarta
Bali
Jakarta
Padang
Mentawai
Padang
Telos
Mentawai
Padang
Kuala lumpur
Bangkok
Koh Tao
Koh Phangang
Bangkok
Phuket
Bali
Phuket
Koh Phi Phi
Krabi
Bangkok
Kuala lumpur
Padang
Mentawai
Padang
Mentawai
Padang
Jakarta
Padang
Mentawai
Padang
Kuala lumpur
Delhi
Ladakh
Jammu
Dharamshala
Amritsar
Varanasi
Rhishikesh
Delhi
London
Cheltenham
London
San Francisco
San Diego
LA
San Diego
San Fran
Carmel
LA
San Diego
Santa barbara
San diego
San Fran
San Diego
LA
Sydney
Melbourne
Sydney
Brisbane
Brunswick Head
Byron bay
Brisbane
Lennox head
Byron bay
Gold coast
Byron bay
Angourie
Nambucca head
Crescent head
Sydney
Kuala lumpur
Padang
Telos
Padang
Bukit Lawang
Padang
Mentawai

And here I am.
15 thousand bucks later... Still itching to see the world... Africa & South America are next...

Well. That's not true. San Diego is next, clawing my way out of debt, enrolling in school, and becoming a nurse. That's what is immediately next.


Then I will take the traveling nurse show on the road probably.
I know i will figure it out and pull back into society (for a while anyways).
I am lucky to have such an awesome loving and supportive family who will love me even though i am poor and debt ridden with sun-beaten skin and a dormant malaria parasite in my liver.

Would I do it all again?

Hell yes.

I would rather spend the rest of my life paying off this debt then spent my whole life waiting to do it tomorrow.

We never know if there's gonna be a tomorrow anyways...
All the more reason for me to drink in these separating skies today, right?