CommitMENTAL

CommitMENTAL.

I woke up at 5:30am in my Grandmere's downstairs guesthouse that looks out over Point Lobos and the cypress tree framed oceanside of Carmel-by-the-sea.
Through a wet, foggy dawn light I watched the wind dance through the needles of a pine tree, meditating on the movement, much the way I would watch the waves for an hour each morning out in the Mentawai islands last year.

For some reason an observation of myself came to me as i sat transfixed by the undulating movement of that swaying pine tree branch.

I make an escape plan before I even arrive somewhere.

It's pretty messed up.

Frightened Rabbit, a killer Scotish band I love sing the line
"i'm working hard on walking out... my feet keep sticking to the ground."

I think i am so scared of getting stuck that sometimes I won't even be still.

Yesterday, my gypsy brother BabaAaron and I left San Fransisco and headed towards the Monterey Bay where I was born.
He teaches guitar privates in Santa Cruz and Moss Landing, and I needed to find a way to get to Carmel so i could visit my grandparents. (I haven't seen them in over a year and my Grandpere just turned 95.)
As always, my travel buddy bestie came through and picked me up at Laura's house in the mission.

I had intended to sleep at Laura's the night before, but upon leaving the bar, our group of friends got into two taxis and I found myself in the one that was heading back to Lower Nob Hill and the comfiest couch I have slept on, in the living room of my new friend Paul.
I met Paul's brother Mike while snowboarding in the French Alps 5 years ago... I lost touch with him after I moved back from England, until he made a random cameo in a dream of mine about a year ago.
Since then we've been back in touch- a seemingly endless string of witty banter and awesomeness.
I'll finally see him again in March when I get to Sydney.

His brother Paul coincidentally lives in San Fran these days, so my two girlfriends, Laura, Jessica & I met him for cocktail hour on Polk Street.

I woke up in Paul's living room at my usual 7am chip chipper energy hour and immediately i got hot feet.

I dashed out and jumped in a taxi, arriving back at Laura's and expecting her to still be fast asleep.
Of course I entered her apartment only to find her standing in the kitchen pressing fresh orange juice and talking about "whipping up some pumpkin muffins"... Ladies and Gentlemen... Laura Putnam.
(look out Martha Stewart)

I grabbed my backpack out of the living room and said quick goodbyes without much room for conversation... (my second favorite exit behind the Irish)... ducked out the door, and climbed into Aaron's car to head south.

Aaron & I drove through the rainy morning up and over Highway 17- the most epic, beautiful winding mountain highway in California and shared our usual soul searching conversations that we've become experts at after traveling india for months together.
We talked about analogies present in rooms- and how a bedroom and the way it's decorated can tell a lot about a person.
We talked about relationships and whether it's better to have a reflection or a balance of your personality.

My current thoughts are that there is already enough of me here- I don't need a reflection as I have sought out in the past. Right now i feel i need a counterbalance. I need a grounded, earthy energy to hold space for my fiery flighty gypsy splatter paint vibe. Aaron calls me the "hotsy totsy airy fairy" and i think you only need one of those in a relationship... the other needs to be the sturdy canvas.

But as soon as I visualize a partner being that, I start to get red hot cheeks and feel like I'm going to break out in hives on my chest.
What if that grounded, earthy guy tries to shove me in a drawer?
What if he throws a wet blanket over me and quells my fire... holds me back?
What if he pins my wings to the ground?

Nothing scares me more then being trapped in a relationship that I can't escape from.

I have a recurring nightmare that I've had for years now... where I pump and pump the brakes in the car but it won't stop and I am flying towards a collision. I see it coming.
Sometimes I stand up and put all my weight on the brake pedal and scream but the car keeps rolling down a hill or into another car.
I wake up terrified and panicking.

But I also wake up alone, because I keep walking out of relationships.
I want love and a counterbalance... I miss having a partner to wake up next to and stand beside... but I'm scared of commitment.

We arrived in Santa Cruz, got a dirty chai with coconut milk and then Aaron taught guitar while I sat on the Aptos beach and thought deeply gazing out at the grey Pacific Ocean reflecting this stormy day.

A taxi driver in San Fran asked me the night before if I was here on business or vacation.

"my business IS vacation!" I replied, proud at my witty and also very honest response.

I was in "the office" on the Aptos beach- pondering and philosophizing... Exploring the thoughts coming up and observing my tendencies in a very Buddhist way.

I was distracted from my deep self study by two young boys in galoshes and rain gear playing in a huge puddle as the Mom looked on lovingly.

Oh man... What I wouldn't give for a pair of galoshes right now!

I want to do everything. Go everywhere. Be everyone.

I change my career and life path constantly- I surf the wave of chance and impermanence- continually carving through new countries and experiences with an insatiable appetite for everything.

It's possible that it stems from this deep fear of commitment that I allow myself to be reborn so regularly- or it could just be a seriously intense love for life, which is what I believe as my truth.

Either way- I can't seem to get enough of EVERYTHING.

Aaron's second lesson was for a woman named Michelle. She and her family live on a farm near Moss Landing and I had the honor and privilege of helping prepare and then eating an incredible sunday lunch with them all before her lesson which was more like a family jam sesh and not unlike our group guitar lessons in Rhishikesh, India last month.

We started talking about leaving parties and houses and how Michelle has a hard time actually getting out the door- but rather gets stuck in a 2 hour long goodbye conversation.
Aaron pointed out my "Irish Exit" technique whereby you just bolt without saying a word to anyone.
You just disappear.

I used to be a long goodbyer like my new friend Michelle... But I learned to just let go and go because it's easier for me.
If I don't, my shoes keep sticking to the floor.

Michelle gently pointed out the flip side of this coin, which is how the other people feel... How alarming and upsetting it can be to be totally engaged with a person and suddenly they are gone.

I guess I don't really think about the other person enough in all things... In every different interpersonal relationship...
I just get caught in the suffocating fear from my own commitment issues and bolt.

I fall in love a hundred times a day and then stop, drop and roll out of there.

I realized this morning that it's just not right to make an escape plan before I arrive... To start planning my next next trip while on the plane somewhere new and exciting...

I guess I just need to be still... But like, really really still.

I have Australia and Indonesia on the horizon and then past that is just school and stillness- studying medicine and maybe even living up here while I do it- so I can watch the dancing pine trees and learn how to say goodbye like a normal person.

Thank you for reading this.
Goodbye until next time.

Love,
Zani Roberts




(ugh)

Clarity coming.

Back in the air...

En route to San Francisco, my other other hOMe away from hOMe- wherever that may be.

In all my travels (51 stamps in my passport and that's just international)... Virgin is my favorite airline hands down.

From their safety videos to their on-board amenities and not least of all, their customer service.

This flight was delayed about 2 hours due to stormy weather I may or may not have created (I'll get to that later)... So we all sat in San Diego airport biding our time drinking our wine... Well drinking our 5 dollar Fiji water bottles, but the Beatles make it sound way sexier with the wine and the wood and all that.

The girls at the gate who were regularly updating us over the loud speaker were just so sweet and apologetic and genuine, I don't think one person got ruffled by the delays as you usually see.
Sure we are only flying upstate... It's not like we have been traveling internationally for days and are exhausted, tired & grumpy - something I know all too well.
But when they finally called to board us, they called the groups cheerily as "Group A for Amazing... Because that's what you are for being patient." and then "B for Beautiful since you are all such beautiful people."

Am I getting sucked back into the saccharine American way?
Maybe.
But i loved the way it just tickled all the elderly people on my flight who stood adorably and eagerly awaiting group F to hear that they were Fantastic or G for Gorgeous.

I am just a big fan of spreading joy and giggles, even if it is scripted and maybe not totally sincere, as I'm sure critics will say.

I climbed on board with the other Fantastic group F-ers, stashing my green REI backpack I trekked around the world with in my overhead compartment and sat down, aware that we were in for a bumpy stormy flight.

I pulled out my rose quartz travel amulet, the pink yaks wool blanket that I was given in India and a book by a Tibetan monk I befriended one day in Dharamshala, India while wrapped in this pink, as i was preparing to head into a ten day silent Buddhist meditation retreat.

At one of our lunch dates, the venerable Pema Choephel proudly gave me his book "A Garland of Pearls" which has three translations all in a row within the thin book as an exchange for a massage I gave him- just another bizarrely unique and awesome experiences- massaging a monk in his Cabernet colored skirt with the marigold yellow rope tying it on- but bear chested and lying on my guesthouse bed in McLeod Ganj, India.

Somehow I never read this book while abroad and I happened to see it out of the corner of my eye lying on a shelf in my parent's house as I darted out the door to make it to the airport early this morning.

As the stewardesses came around down the plane smiling and taking drink orders, I read the line:

"you should not only refrain from divisive speech, but you should speak words that create harmony."

It set me into thinking (as most things do) about karmic reaction and the consequences of being grumpy and bitchy.

Sometimes I am just having a bad day- I feel foggy and confused- directionless and frustrated.
I snap at my mom when she tries to offer constructive criticism and although I can dole out all the advice in the world to my beloved friends and family, I forget even the most simple words that I yearn to hear and remember to set me straight. Instead I spiral intensely into a funk that seems to suck the life out of the air around me.
As equally as I can bring joy with me places - I think my negativity can be contagious and toxic when I allow it to run free like unchained criminals let loose to wreck havoc and hell in the energy around me.

It has been a ROCKY re-entry this month.

I returned from about 11 months abroad at Christmastime and feel like I still haven't quite come right.
In the last year I was on 28 planes and visited 7 countries.
I made zero money, about 200 new friends and a lifetime of stories and memories.
I was on a cloud the last month I spent in India... Oozing out with love- hugging strangers and singing everywhere I went. I felt in sync with the ALL. I felt utter bliss and joy.

But America made me so angry when I first came back.
I didn't see it as a challenge, like I see new countries I visit... I saw it as a joyless, money-obsessed cesspool of over-indulgent, narrow-minded jerks.
I was surrounded by my beautiful, open minded, gentle hearted, altruistic, passionate & creative family and friends but somehow I couldn't see that as redeeming for the country as a whole.
I've spent a significant amount of time in the last month crying and buried under blankets, unwilling to come out like the proverbial ostrich... Head buried in the sand.

As I waited at San Diego International all morning I wrote back and forth with a spirit sister and friend who reminded me what I needed to hear.

I am young, free and single. The world is my oyster. Everyone is in debt... Just take risks and be brave and trust.

She reminded me of a conversation we had In England in December as we walked past Buckingham Palace looking for a soup kitchen we could eat at because we were both so cash poor and couldn't imagine spending 10 pounds on a meal when it could have fed us for 2 weeks in India/Nepal where we had just come from.

I realized and wrote to her about how sometimes (and I recognize that this sounds crazy) but sometimes I think my mood is reflected in the weather.
I'm not saying I CREATE the weather patterns or anything... But when it's dark and stormy in my soul it seems to get turbulent outside.

I was sitting at the airport delayed writing to her about my vacillating back and forth between whether or not i will return to indonesia this year- and had this ah-ha moment that I couldn't FLY because there was a shitstorm in my brain...

I created all this foggy confusion and stormy weather in my soul... So no wonder I was having a hard time deciding what to do and how to make plans for the coming year.

I'm pretty sure I figured it out now.
Yes- sitting on the floor at Gate 25, I got clarity for the first time in a while.
Not in my meditations or standing on my head, where it usually comes.
It was here in an American airport surrounded by symbols and messages reminding me to speak honest, kind words and practice virtuous behavior that will create love and harmony.
I am done shit-talking America.
This country is my hOMe land no matter how far I go or how long I stay away.

I am proud to carry my big thick blue American passport. It's because of this challenging, often times maddening country that I have the opportunity to freely go where I want to go and experience all that I do.

I'll be flying to Australia in March to explore the land of kangaroos and koalas and then heading to Indonesia to teach yoga at Surfing Village in the Telos islands- north of the Mentawais. And then returning hOMe to America to start my pre-nursing school classes.

It seems like this road to becoming a nurse will be longer then I originally anticipated, but I'm ready for the challenge... And ready to take advantage of my opportunities as an American citizen. (apparently all my tuition fees as a poor, independent student can be waived at community colleges in California which is unreal)...

I'm ready for some clear skies.

what am i?

A week in California
...San Diego to Santa Barbara


Surfers bathing in late afternoon light spilled across the grey-green ocean like a golden lightning bolt thrown from the clouds dancing from the horizon to the wet footprinted sand.

San Diego.

A typical "run" for me...
The moment I lift my eyes off the paved footpath and gaze out over my left shoulder to see the coastline my mind starts heaving poetric descriptions of what I see.
A story starts spinning...
And I find I slow my roll, unlock my iPod touch and start typing as I walk between the crashing California ocean I grew up and was born beside... And multimillion dollar mansions perched on the cliffs, hovering over highway 101, as though scrambling to sir higher and taller... Bigger and better.
This is the America I know.

A world where a million dollars is nothing.
"you can't live on million dollars forever. No way. You need at least 100K a year to survive here."
I've heard that so many times ad I get it... But I just don't get it.

I have been caught in this dilemma in my mind for quite some time.
I have this privilege, this almost unfathomable gift and honor to live here and yet it repulses me.

As soon as I tell myself that I can leverage this for the good of the world... Take advantage of these options and opportunities I am presented with, with the intention to give back...
Then somehow I can swallow it but it gets stuck a little on the way down and burns and i can still feel it later on.

Finally I arrive at the Self Realization Fellowship... Lovingly known in Encinitas as "swami's" which is the name of the famous wave that breaks right in grit if the grounds.

I got married at 'Lake Shrine' which is the Self Realization fellowship temple on Sunset Blvd in pacific palisades where I grew up.

Paramahansa Yogananda founded the SRF after growing up in India, studying with many magnificent gurus and teachers and finding that most religions say the same thing.
The SRF honors all the sages and prophets from all cultures and customs.

I love this all-encompassing unity consciousness vibe.

It makes me feel like I need to make peace with the 1% here in America.

There is a huge occupy movement happening here in America, people stepping forward to defend and fight for the other 99% of the population.

But I know a fair few one percenters. I love them. They are my family and friends.. They are hard workers and generous loving beings. They just happen to be gagillionaires.

I guess its just hard for me to come back from India- which feels like the 99% of earth... And every single person here in America fighting and believing they are struggling- well they are blogging on their iPads and driving priuses and I am NOT hating on them... I'm not judging them or saying they shouldn't have what they have a do what they do... It's just hard for me to see it through their eyes coming from a year spent in developing countries living on street food.

There are of course endless causes that I believe in and support. Both my sisters are fighting the good fight as activists in education and environmental policy...
I give thanks to them eternally.

I don't know what I'm trying to say.
I'm stuck between two worlds.
I want those amazing knee high leather boots (eventhough i recognize i do not need them) and i want a condo in venice i can decorate and leave all my stuff and just come back to when i'm in town and i want a snowboarding season pass (eventhough there is no snow) and I want enough airline miles to fly my friends all over the world to meet me as I travel.

But I also want to give everything away so I have no need for a Venice condo or knee high boots. (I already have three pairs anyway)...
And I want to return to India and teach and learn for a year... All I need is $10/day MAX...
(far from $100,000/year).


I want to hold sick and starving children in Asia and Africa and look into their eyes and tell them it's gonna be okay.
I want to take away the pain and suffering from every being on earth... And I believe I can.

I just have to figure out how to do it... All of it.

I want everything, and when confronted with the question "who am i?"
my soul responds, "i am everything."

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

A week or so later I found myself on a train headed to Santa Barbara.
I needed out.
Out of this world... Out of my parents house (eventhough theyve been nothing but wonderful to me)
I just felt like I was crawling out of my skin.


So I jumped on a train bound for Santa Barbara to see my Goddess sister, Erin.
She came with me on my first adventure in Asia...
We went to the islands together and have always been reflections of one another.

I sat on the train and set intentions, knowing full well that by time i left Erin, I would have a whole new set of intentions (and i did)

I wrote in my journal what i was seeing... inside the train and inside myself:

The sunlight poured through the train window across her forehead and seemed to drip down from her wispy auburn hair.
The ball of gold hovered above the horizon to her left, painting the clear sky shades of orange and yellow.

Across from her sat an old man who's newspaper-like hands delicately sat on the seat arms. His eyes watched out to the right as rolling hills of iceplant and purple California wildflowers basked in the last rays of light for the day.

Both young girl an old man sighed simultaneously.

Hers held promise of a new day... a new chapter...
Ready for her to swan dive into.

His was weary... Heavy with life's memories... Like Old Man River.
Tired of living but scared of dying.

The train bounced and shuddered along the tracks splitting the two worlds.

On one, the girl, the sea, the setting sun and watercolor sky over the channel islands.
On the other, an old man and some mountains set before a twilight backdrop.

I watched both worlds from a row behind and tried to wrap my mind around both worlds at once.
I tried to find where I was between the two.

I was on this train... on these tracks... but was i inhaling or exhaling?
were things beginning or ending for me?

It was hard to say.

Oil rigs floated in the silvery sea and I suddenly felt more connected to them... out at sea & looking back to land.
Kind of alone and without a road or route.
Off the tracks.
Floating.

I had felt like this recently in a yoga class... weightless... Floating.

Ironically and somewhat amazingly it was while practicing one of my least favorite poses - Danurasana - or bow pose.
You lay on your belly and grab your ankles, arching into a bow and arrow looking thing.
It's intense and hard to breathe sometimes when deep in this pose, but somehow it came to me to just let go (without physically letting go of my ankles of course.)

I fluttered my eyes closed and sunk away from my skin - there was no push, no outward pressure - and suddenly I lifted higher and higher as though angels swooped down and scooped me up towards the heavens.
I felt like I could have stayed there forever.
Weightlessness.
What an idea?

I feel as though i have been carrying weight since my divorce and subsequent post-divorce relationships.
The weight I have carried, i created myself.
I somehow created pain and guilt that has never needed to exist.
But i was beginning to see that I could also just as easily lighten my load, create weightlessness, ease and just FLOAT.

I remembered a poem I wrote a million years ago... before i even thought of splitting up with my husband...
"the ONLY thing that holds you back is the reigns of fear that YOU have placed upon your own shoulders.
calm your mind and wriggle out from your grip that holds you.
only you can choose to let go"

I keep getting it.
Over & Over & Over...
Clicking.
Ah ha's...
And then the bell rings too soon...
the trip ends...
and the conductor comes over the loud speaker to tell me that my stop is approaching.
Time to get off.

I close my eyes and remind myself to remember to let go...
Let go of everything.
But hold on to the memory of holding on.

______________________



My goddess sister and I juiced for 4 days... we made divine concoctions... we watched documentaries on nutrition... we hiked... we painted... we walked on the beach... we purified... we cleansed...

we meditated on the beach and set intentions.

At one point i wrote:
I am teeter tottering.
I feel this overwhelming urge to run in totally contrasting directions.
My angels are arguing.

One spirit says
"stay in California. reacquire your stuff & your power.
Enroll in nursing school ASAP."

One says
"Keep being a gypsy. Run Run Run as fast as you can - go back to Indonesia. Go to Australia, Thailand, India. Keep learning and lapping up all there is to lap up... Keep abandoning the stresses and chaos of the world. You could be gone tomorrow."

My life unfolded before me the less i gripped on to the "YA?... AND THEN WHAT?..."

As i let go, it let go...
The world told me what it wanted of me.

Time with your friends that reflect you (while juicing, painting and being awesome) is PRICELESS.


______________________________

On the train returning south I wrote:

At the end of the day, how will i best explore what i am?

How will i best harness this magnificent energy i was born with?

How can i best be a human BEING, not a human DOING?

How can i best hold space?
(Remember that atoms are 99.999% empty space.)

I guess we could all ask ourselves these things.

___________________________


in conclusion (kind of)... i think the closest thing to what i am is this...



i laughed so hard i almost cracked a rib.
this is GENIUS... and pretty much the best reminder to laugh at myself ever.

food stamps & an "F YOU" from America

January 10, 2011
San Diego, California


I need to get a skin cancer scan.
I've needed to get one for about 6 months... ever since suspicious looking moles and marks started appearing on my skin in indonesia...
in the days when i bathed in sun and cuddled a monkey and told myself i didn't have a care in the world...

most of my friends (besides Beaker, the monkey) are Australian out in Indonesia. (Indonesia is their closest neighbor and a typical destination for our kangaroo koala bear kids down under)...

In Australia, skin cancer is the number one killer.
The country is covered in advertisements and reminders to wear sunscreen and get regular skin cancer scans.
I think the hole in the ozone layer is near Aus, hence the powerful, harmful sun rays.
Several Aussie friends started making comments about my need for a scan when they noticed the dark spots on my skin... but of course there is nowhere to do that in the islands and then it was time for me to go to India...
The impossible quest to find a cancer scan in India went out the window when i got the plague, and fell into silent Buddhist meditations and met Aaron and spun off into song writing euphoria so on and so forth...

So now i am here in America...
and without health insurance or money.

What does one do?

I haven't ever been a full gypsy before, like i am now.

Over christmas, my older sister in all her infintie, law-school going, Supreme Court Justice working brilliance went to town exploring how to get me, an unemployed, asset-free, essentially homeless, impoverished gypsy- some health care.

So... Today was the day I would follow the scavenger hunt of clues leading from an address and a phone number Lara found...
Beginning at the Social Security Office in Oceanside.

The following is the text message exchange we shared before my phone died in the overflowing Health & Human Services Dept waiting room that i called home for FOUR and a HALF hours among crying babies and crackheads. Everyone was crawling up the walls.
(and yes... gypsies have iphones sometimes. in fact, i happened to be reading a book on Veganism called "Skinny Bitch" on my ibooks app when the battery drained out.)

Lara: I thought you got an early start
Zani: mm hmm. i did. I went to the Social Security Dept and waited for hours to find that SSI/SSP is only for disability and medi-cal is provided by the state, no the federal govermnet, so i hd to drive over here to this other place.
It's okay. I think it'll only be another hour or so. I am reading a book and remembering why I am a vegan. it's all good! :)
I got good at waiting and being patient with stuff like this after living in Indonesia and India!

SEVERAL HOURS LATER

Zani: oh man America is so fucked up. They gave me 200 dollars a month to spend on food but I'm not eligible for medi-cal and have to go to two other places and wait a month to be able to see a doctor. We wonder why Americans are fat and sick? wow.
Lara: That's crazypants! Why are you not eligable?
Zani: Because I'm not disabled, old, pregnant or a mother... they said i can apply for LIHP - a different healthcare coverage but i have to apply for unemployment first, which i absolutely will be denied for because i voluntarily quit my job.
Lara: wow.
Zani: What if i DO have skin cancer that's progressed because I can't see a doctor... And it's just getting worse and worse... But hey! i could go buy some fucking meat or kitkat bars... 200 dollars worth. HORRAY! Just what i need.
I also have to go back to the Social Security Office I was at this morning AGAIN to get a copy of my SS card for this LIHP thing.
Lara: You could go to the emergency room and lie about your name and SSN
Zani: Maybe I should.
OH! and "free clinics" aren't free by the way.
Cheaper and easier to just go to Mexico.
I should just go to Australia.
Lara: ya. this is appalling
Zani: Thanks for the food money anyways. Maybe i should just buy 200 dollars worth of eggs and throw them at something.
THEN become a nurse and treat E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E. for free!
No paper will be allowed at my clinic.
OK. Rant done. Thanks for being a sounding board.
Lara: This is terrible. I hope this will spur you into action.
___________________

Yup. Food stamps...
Piece of Cake... Literally.

But i hate to put down the food stamp thing... I know people would be really hugry and grumpy without so much food.
Though, I must say...

EVERY single person in a line of 30, snaking out the door was grossly obese.

Now, is that because shitty food is cheaper and that's all their Holy blessed food stamps can afford or is it that we VALUE food so highly - being this satisfaction obsessed, consume-consume-consume food addicted nation that we are?

It was abundantly clear to me today that EATING is more important than HEALING

and FYI America, keep eating like you do and you'll stay fat and end up needing major medical care later on.
Though good luck with that one...

I thought it was a bureaucratic pain-in-the-ass to go to the doctor or God FORBID the hospital when I was rich, employed, and fully covered.
This, today, was truly a big fat middle finger at me and my health & wellness from the Good ol' Fat Boy Committee in Washington D.C.

I'd also like to point out that the majority of my family in San Diego work in Health Insurance...
If there WAS an easier way, I think i could probably find it.
There is not.

Today I'm just a human and a proud resident of earth... I'm grateful to be in this body, sick or not.

But as an American and resident of the USA I am appalled.
______________________________

epilogue:

I read this to my father... a compassionate, rational, liberal man who I idolize, respect and love.
His reaction was not what i expected.
He got irate.
He said that by trash talking America I was talking about him, because he is a part of this nation.
He said that if i wanted to make a difference I should take a stand and participate because its a democracy...
If i hadn't been crying in that moment, full of frustration that was bubbling out from inside me, I would have laughed in his face.

Both my sisters are political activists. One for education and one for the environment. I respect them and i think they can make a change.. but the God Damn PRESIDENT of the United States tried to make a change in the health care system and got shot down.
I am pessimistic that i can do anything, besides making myself ill and raising my blood pressure and getting more and more disgusted by this corporation... oh... excuse me... i meant, COUNTRY.

"Then GO TO ANOTHER COUNTRY! Just get out of here!" my Dad said in the same tone he used when kicking me out of the house at 16 for being a disobedient trainwreck of a teenager.
"Those other countries made you sick. Go get it fixed over there!!!" he screamed at me.

I stormed out of the house and went to a hot yoga class and sweated out my rage... twisted out my fear... and let go of all the strands this whole thing has pulled up inside me.

I have done nothing wrong here.
I carry an American passport. I have paid thousands and thousands of dollars in taxes over the years.
I have never taken advantage of the system. Not once.

As an unemployed, impoverished American citizen, I explored what my country could do for me to help me, since there is a chance I could be sick.

They stuck their middle finger up at me from behind their piles and piles of paperwork and bank accounts.

And this is just me, being honest, speaking my truth and sharing my story.
I am sorry if this offends you.

Live Like You're On Vacation

I am so honored to be writing for my dear friend & venice tribe spirit sister Tawney's new project called
"Live Like You're On Vacation"
...something i am pretty good at doing, i think!
<3




here are some articles i have written so far:

"I FALL IN LOVE 100 TIMES A DAY"

MORNING RITUALS - A WAY TO BRING YOUR TRAVELS HOME

&

CAN A WOMAN TRAVEL ALONE IN INDIA?

ENJOY!
visit www.llyov.org
(the word 'llyov' is decidedly pronounced 'love'.... duh)
<3

living the dream...?

written for www.livelikeyoureonvacation.org

LIVING THE DREAM....

i can't even begin to tell you how many times i have heard this statement in my life... most notably in the last year.

"wow zani... you're living the dream!"

every-time i hear that i think to myself...
what dream?
who's dream?
what does that even mean?

I've started this piece 10 times over the last few weeks.
I keep coming up against a lack of words... contrasting, conflicting ideas... and i throw my hands in the air and leave it.




Today I took a train down from LA to San Diego and walked on Encinitas beach with my mom and her dog Ramblin Rose.
Our shadows were long across the black and silver streaked sand as the sun descended towards a cold ocean pumping with big surf that crashed beside us.
With each step i saw these imprints of rocks that the water had pressed into the sand as it drew back into the body of the sea. The design left in the sand looked like Virgin Mary effigies somehow. I observed these as my mom and I talked about marriage and my cousin's upcoming wedding.
Just then i looked up at the big waxing moon, seemingly transparent, hanging in the bright blue sky. All around the moon were colorful hot air balloons gracefully drifting along the cloud-free late afternoon.
The first thought in my head is how I'd like my next wedding to be in a hot air balloon right there on the california coast line.
I must have sighed outloud in the dreamy way my mother has been hearing me sigh my whole life.
'Desirous of everything' is how Jack Kerouac would describe people like me.


"you really want to go up in one of those?" she asked as a reply to my look of longing.

"ya! Its totally always been a dream of mine." i said.

I immediately remembered this piece that i had started again last night before seeing something shiny and ditching it.

"Why? Because you like the idea of being up high floating?" My mother said, insinuating way more then she intended to.

We both just nodded and stared up at my dreams... floating high next to the luminous vellum looking moon... We felt the sun pour across our backs and let the echo of crashing waves be the soundtrack to the quiet moment of understanding.

I have now been back "home" in America for one month.
I've been high, low, happy, sad, and nostalgic... I've felt completely grounded and completely lost.
"where do I belong?" I found myself asking anyone that would listen the other day.

I reached out to Baba Aaron Glass, my travel companion, spirit brother and best friend right now.

He replied to me
"you left India before we met Prem Baba. But he said that exactly what you're feeling is part of spiritual evolution. It's part of the next step. And it's a hard step because of these feelings... Feelings like you are a stranger in your own skin."

Somehow this gave me hope and also made me feel even more lost.

If I am living "the dream".. ANY dream... I can tell you right now it's not one of those lucid dreams I can control and influence and decide what will happen next.

I feel like I'm reading a novel that has completely confused and lost me- so I couldn't really tell you what is happening let alone predict what will happen next.

That morning I was telling my friends about my dream where I was in South America.
"I always dream that I'm somewhere other then where I am."

I meant, of course, that literally the stories in my dreams were set in other countries then the one my body was asleep in... But again I heard the double entrances... The symbolism inadvertently hidden in my words.
My dream is somewhere else.

I went for a run.

(which by the way... HOW do I consistently forget time after time... Year after year... That running makes me feel incredible, clear and focused as though someone has screwed my head on.)

After my run I sat in mediation, totally wiped out, exhausted and open.
And that was the message that came through to me.

Be here. Be open.

I chanted this in my head as I was falling asleep... Willing all the clogging thoughts and fears currently blocking and occupying my dreams to vanish and dissolve.

I dared myself to dream without expectation.
I dared myself to dream new, fresh ideas and create new colors.
I opened myself up and asked what the universe wanted of me.

Again I received a message that told me to stop searching. It was time for me to stand and see... Recognize what I already AM.

I guess in my mind I thought that living the dream meant living as an eternal hot air balloon... Forever floating high up by the moon.

I still don't know what "living the dream means" but I have some new intentions in 2012.
I am going to teach yoga internationally as I have done for the last 5 years.

I made a video to remind myself of what I've always done.


I'm already here.

Maybe that's what people mean when they tell me I'm "living the dream"... Maybe they are telling me to stop searching and digging my way through and out of everything, but just to be here...
Open...
In this dream I'm drawing.