too close for comfort?

30 April, 2012

...standing in a towel, my hair dripped onto the wooden floors of the bungalow right next to a giant spider that had scuttled across the floor, past my foot and hid in the shadows of my shelves.

I shrugged it off and remembered the people at Tushita Meditation Center telling us not only should we not kill insects (I never do anyways) but i should not even move them or mess with them.

Every night i went to bed for nine nights at Tushita, I slept with a giant brown spider on the wall above my head.

I just accepted it.

This was no different… I dried my skin and lathered up with flower smelling mosquito repellant and hummed a new song i wrote… Suddenly i heard a tip tack tack tap sound which at first sounded the way raindrops sound at the beginning of a storm when they start dancing on the sagu palm roof… but this crackling sound was different.

i looked out the "window" and saw Mario lighting a fire of brush and dried palm frawns on the opposite side of the bamboo fence maybe 5 meters away from our bungalow.

My first instinct was to tell him he was too close and frantically i looked for the nearest fire extinguisher.

Then i remembered that he owns this place and has lived here for 8 years.

He knows what he is doing.

I exhaled 

The smoke rose up with the long palm tree trunks like dry ice climbing up the stalks of long long long stemmed roses in an eerie horror movie kind of way. The sky was grey, like it's been all day.

But my fears were unfounded and silly.

Soon the fire put itself out and Mario walked back to the restaurant.

I thought about two nights ago when we had a belated birthday party for me and Mario took an aerosol can and a lighter and created fire bombs in the air of the restaurant.

(The last group was a crew of young pro surfers who loved the fire bomb trick and ended up lighting their hair on fire.)

I told Mario that i was scared he was too close to the lamps in the restaurant and he laughed at me and blew one directly on the lamp to show me it was no big deal.

Once again i found myself shaking off this gut instinct where i feel that things are "too close for comfort"

Even now, the bats are doing their usual evening circle around the restaurant diving down so close to our heads- but of course they are bats and use sonar and never fly into anything no matter how close they come to us.

I started thinking about the idea of "too close for comfort"….

Soo.... Is that to say that "comfort" is inherently something that is far away and removed from other things?

Weird.

I feel like maybe in the western world we are a bit like that…  germaphobes, people-a-phobes… living in bubbles and crystal palaces away from others.

Children have their own rooms… Hospitals have pully sheets that provide privacy for patients… You excuse yourself if you brush by or touch a stranger and apologize for contact.

Not in indonesia… or any third world country i have been to.

Closeness is comfort here.

When we drive here in Indonesia you juuuuust barely skim past the next motorbike and cars and taxis seem to park and stop right on top of one another… Something we never do in America.

In America, we leave an entire car's length around us and even then sometimes think people are tailgating us.

In India I sat on a bus one time so close to so many people that a man was literally and completely sitting ON my lap without a word of apology. That was just the way it was.

When I lived in England we would smash onto the tube like sardines, but there was an annoyance and awkwardness when your body was touching another.

Not here.

There is no such thing as uncomfortably close.

Instead, Indonesian families sleep in the same room and often the same bed… they live on top of one another in every way.

I don't believe it is just due to the poverty... I think there is a comfort from being so close to fellow humans.

When I went to the "hospital" in the village last week when i had malaria, it was a front room of the doctor's house. 

When i had to get an ultrasound in India for a random illness i picked up they pulled me on the table and yanked my shirt down before the other woman had even stepped down from the table or gotten her clothes back on. Three sets of hands were pushing me and pulling me around the hospital.

When I was at the healer in the village, her entire family stood in the room and stared at me like they were watching TV. Blank faces just watching me.

I was totally paranoid - as is a common symptom of malaria - and freaking out that there were so many strangers in the room with me and children crowded at the window to watch me suffering… but to them it was no big deal.

No adult told the children to stop coming up to me to get a closer look.

Maybe they thought it would be comforting?

I don't know.

But what I have found over the last few years out here in Indonesia, is that as soon as I let go of this western fixation about wanting this personal bubble and my own space - wanting to hold "danger" and stranger at a distance, i find myself much happier… more at ease and one with the way here.

I remember that we are all together in this thing we call life…

And we leave a ridiculous amount of buffer room and safety net space in America.

We don't need it.

I encourage you to get closer. See what happens.

The pink and purple cotton candy colored sky is reflecting off the water stretched out along the reef right now. The bats are circling and bin tangs are being cracked open.

Another night at surfing village.

I will be leaving in a few days and making my way to Padang and then out to Togat Nusa, the retreat in the Mentawais where i lived all last season…. Taking the month off from Surfing Village until we get more guests coming.

Tawney and I were supposed to take a cement boat (something i wasn't fussed about but would have been an experience Tawney would have probably quite enjoyed - being UP CLOSE and personal with all the cement boat guys for 24 hours)… But it left without us and without warning and won't leave again for 3 weeks. Fail.

SO now we have a mission and a half to get to Padang - we will have to go to Telo (a few hours away by motorized canoe) and we'll patiently wait for a plane - if we can't get on it (they say its all full) - we will have to stay in the village and wait for the next day and try our luck again.

It's possible we will have to fly to Medan first and then connect to Padang.

Such is Indo.

Close and confused… Totally disconnected from time altogether but will give you all the time in the day to talk and touch and love you… I have decided that the Indos are very comforting.

I'm looking forward to seeing my estranged Togat Nusa family who bring me an unbelievable amount of comfort and joy.

First though i have the hurdle of GETTING there - will check in after i jump that hurdle.

Wish me luck.

Bendy Girl "just observes"

6 months ago i was in a 10 day silent Buddhist Meditation at Tushita Meditation Center in McLeod Ganj, India.

I feel like I talk about those ten days all the time and refer to the friends I made... which often confuses the listener of my story...

"we're you silent?" they say scratching their heads.

For the most part, yes. But its amazing how you get to know people just by being in the same intimate space as them... Plus we all partied when we got out - spending all night saying the things that had been bubbling up over the last ten days.

I had created little names for the people... Like "Red Blanket Australian Guy that Sits by the Window"... and "Beautiful Shaved-Head Goddess Woman".

I found out that I was that bendy girl that is always writing in her book. ("bendy" because my fellow meditators watched me practice yoga in silence at lunchtime i guess)

When I left McLeod Ganj I went to Varanasi, by way of a quick trip to the Golden Temple in Amritsar - and met Aaron Glass and Danny Fliescher there.

Just today as i was lying in my bed being nostalgic, i listened to voicenotes going back 6 months that I had recorded... the ones from just under 6 months ago were Aaron and I writing music on the rooftop of our guesthouse as we were coated by the billowing smoke from burning bodies creamating below us at the Manikarnika Ghat on the Ganges River.

Varanasi and Tushita were two very powerful times in my life.

In Varanasi I talked often about the bonds i made with fellow Tushitaites and the transformation I felt after sitting in meditation for ten straight days and hearing lectures on the Buddhist nature of reality which blew my mind into pieces.

Our next stop after Varanasi was Rhishikesh where i was reunited with a huge number of my Tushita crew. We were all just drawn to the same area... I think we had all psychically connected and intertwined with one another and would see each other constantly once we were in the same region.

Beautiful Shaved-Head Goddess Woman was one of the sisters from Tushita that i reconnected with in Rhishikesh. She posted this video  to my facebook last week on my birthday - it is of Aaron & I singing a song we wrote called "I'll meet you in Calcutta this September" and how we ended up meeting in Varanasi in November instead but it's better late then never in the end… to come out of time and into love, my friend.

(That's a Sufi poet named Rumi  who says "come out of the circle and into love my friend")

https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=3758847491205

Anyways - this was a half recording of one of our first days in Rhishikesh and singing…

Beautiful Shaved-Head Goddess Woman is also called Manda - and she and our German Tushita friend and Djieridoo playing really interesting vagabonder named Rainer rescued the sweet puppy you see in the video. 

They named him chai chai.

Manda is the gift that just keeps giving… She is always sending me love and beautiful things… like this poem that brought tears to my eyes today.

Happiness

by Jorge Luis Borges (1899-1986)

Whoever embraces a woman is Adam. The woman is Eve.

Everything happens for the first time.

I saw something white in the sky. They tell me it is the moon, but what can I do with a word and a mythology.

Trees frighten me a little. They are so beautiful.

The calm animals come closer so that I may tell them their names.

The books in the library have no letters. They spring forth when I open them.

Leafing through the atlas I project the shape of Sumatra.

Whoever lights a match in the dark is inventing fire.

Inside the mirror an Other waits in ambush.

Whoever looks at the ocean sees England.

Whoever utters a line of Liliencron has entered into battle.

I have dreamed Carthage and the legions that destroyed Carthage.

I have dreamed the sword and the scale.

Praised be the love wherein there is no possessor and no possessed, but both surrender.

Praised be the nightmare, which reveals to us that we have the power to create hell.

Whoever goes down to a river goes down to the Ganges.

Whoever looks at an hourglass sees the dissolution of an empire.

Whoever plays with a dagger foretells the death of Caesar.

Whoever dreams is every human being.

In the desert I saw the young Sphinx, which has just been sculpted.

There is nothing else so ancient under the sun.

Everything happens for the first time, but in a way that is eternal.

Whoever reads my words is inventing them.

-----

phew, right?

So i wrote a song yesterday with Tawney - a funny little song about "Mr. Wrong" and then this afternoon between listening to voice notes from India and reflecting on the last 6 months as i strummed a guitar and stared out at the slightly gloomy late afternoon that swept over the island as dusk crept up and the bats started circling the restaurant as they always do around this time…

I wrote another song…

about Once Upon a Time…

Sometimes I feel like i am wake-walking through a dream - like sleep-walking in reality but backwards.

(I do everything backwards)

I blew out a candle on a cake last night as the crew sang Happy Birthday to me in Portugese.

I had been so sick on my real birthday we sort of skipped it - unsure if i was gonna definitely have a 28th year of life…

SO last night was a celebration of the sloppy, tequila-fueled frenzy kind… 

Before the debauchery started I stood in front of a big chocolate cake and looked at the flame from the candle. I heard "make a wish" uttered from somewhere win the tight circle that was around me.

The first thought that always crosses my mind is a broad, humanitarian wish - what i always wish for on dandelions and shooting stars…

This time i got to wish for something personal and close to me.

Something selfish.

I felt vulnerable wishing for what i wished for - but i realized that in the last 6 months i have learned so much - mostly from the community of friends I have been surrounded with - my Tushita friends - Mikey, Manda, Rainer, Polly… My Travel companions Danny & Aaron… My family of loves in Rhishikesh Silja, Bec, Krishna & Joey… My girls  in London Charlie & Lucy… My family in California Mom, Dad, Lara, Tia and the Venice/Bernal Heights friends I have sustained through my gypsydome… My Australia peeps - Lutkajtis crew, Birdie and the Crescent Head boys, Holly & Harmony, Jane, Jules & Laura… and the Surfing Village Fam - Michelle, Mario, Paulo, Echa, Moppy, Gabrielle… and most notably as of late - my teacher, friend and sister in light and love - Tawney.

Every day I continue to learn so much from my friends and family - lessons about communicating clearly, living in truth, and being vulnerable… allowing myself to look foolish and to cry sometimes because things can be scary and sad… and thats okay.

and above all else - to continue to step back and like we heard over and over and over again at Tushita

JUST OBSERVE

"Aham Sakshahi" - I am the eternal witness… 

… And so grateful to be witnessing what i am.

LIFE IS GREAT.

The Return to Awesometown

Ladies and gentlemen… i am back from the dead.

"SLOVAKIA!" i screamed and threw my hands in the air signifying that i was "out" of our evening game of "shithead" - the best card game ever invented.

Last year when i was here with Shayne and Pixi, we played and Pixi was the shithead (as always it seems)… There is a presidente who screams orders at the shithead - like "go get me a cold bintang!" and "light my gudang."

… the real important things on an island - cold beer and clove cigarettes.

Michelle was already out and making the final touches on dinner which would be put up on the bar soon- grilled fish and potatoes.

I decided that tonight would be the night that i eat some fish. I really need to get my strength up after this sickness and it had been decided from all around that eating fish caught here in the bay would be a good idea so i am going to do it.

I retired to this hammock where i am lying now… I can see the narrow wooden table where the game is till going on… Tawney is sitting among a table full of boisterous Portugese speaking men… but she is a trooper and seems to be having a ball.

The last ten days have been some of the scariest of my life - its such an unbelievable gift that Tawney arrived here just a few days after I came down with Malaria… and also just in time to see some of the best surfers in the world do impossible things on our front doorstep.

Today i ventured out to sea…

Tawney, Michelle & I had a mermaid convention in the bay…

We walked across the coral, through the scary keyhole and brought a blow up raft and fins… flipping and swimming around in  the sweet water.

It was a glorious rafternoon.

I swam through the healing turquoise waters and then absorbed some sun as we watched Taj Burrow, Dane Reynolds and my buddy Jack from the last trip… They have all been on the red rip curl boat which has been parked at our wave "Pasti" for most of the last week.

Once we were cooked - which didn't take long in the hot sun - and also because it was a HUGE adventure for me to actually do something besides lying in bed… we swam back to shore.

After a nice shower and lather up with bug repellent (I am swimming in the stuff these days after the infection)… we lay in hammocks and listened to Tracy Chapman, ate popcorn, and read our various books.

Tawney and I are both reading Shantaram at the moment. I am ahead of her… but only by a little bit these days after I got SO pissed off at the book when i read the horrific chapter 29 that i turned it over and decided that i would protest for a few days.

Now Mario is screaming at the new "shithead" - our Aussie guest named Mark, and demanding that he dance inside my hoola hoop to the song "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me"

i love it here.

We found out today that the guests we were supposed to have in May have bailed so now there is this time that we have to either play or go on vacation somewhere (ha. i love that we take vacations)… or else i will go work somewhere else for a few weeks - either back to Togat Nusa Retreat or back to Shayne's boat… or else maybe Tawney, Mario, Michelle and I might go to Cambodia.

I never know what is next in life out here… It seems like there is surprise and more awesometown  - sometimes at the end of a scary malaria week - but it comes never the less.

I am finally feeling myself again and not feeling so paranoid and weird all day.(only part of the day. ha.)

I will be coming home to California in August to get ready for my sister Lara's wedding and to enroll in school.

I am doing it.

Nurse Zani is underway… starting this fall with a math class and living with my parents in Cardiff.

As Tracy Chapman says

"I'm ready…."

28th birthday

april 16, 2012

(my 28th birthday)

i woke up and still had malaria.

it wasn't a series of bad dreams. i really was this sick. but i had survived a third night.

today was my birthday but it didn't even really register.  all i could think about was the pain.

Malaria feels like every muscle, ligament and tendon in your body is ripped and searing - being stretched and torn at every moment - and every joint feels like arthritis and tiger mortis - complete freezing up and agony… but there is no relief. moving doesn't help and staying still only makes it worse.

time goes SO slowly - ten minutes seems like hours and hours.

the pain in my head was the only thing worse then my back. my head felt like the spinal chord was being chewed on by diseased rats and my brain was completely swollen inside my skull pressing out.

the fever/chill routine was BOILING HOT which caused me to projectile vomit everything  - every last drip of water from my stomach… and then FREEZING teeth chattering - whole body seizing up. (i can barely walk because my calf muscles are so sore from clenching them i guess) - and the arthritic pain is unbearable.

by day 4 (my birthday) all i could do was cry.

i was crying out of pain and i was crying out of fear.

i had woken up with excruciating pain in my lower right abdomen… like all the organs in my pelvis had gotten infected with the disease and i was surely gonna die.

plus i live with the most hardcore, rugged, dreadlocked, indestructible Brazilian men who are like ya - you'll be fine… i love the nonchalant atmosphere here - but it terrifies me sometimes.

it took me a solid 30 minutes to shuffle my way out of the mosquito net and to the kitchen where i collapsed on the stairs in tears.

One of the local girls who was working in the kitchen and looking at me suggested i go see the medicine woman. Carel, one of the workers who took my to the doctor on the speedboat when i first got sick a few days ago, suggested that he could take me on his motorbike, since i couldn't really walk.

"How much does she cost?" Michelle asked

"Well - if  you like what she says then you can buy her a pack of cigarettes." Rosemeada replied from behind the bucket full of dishes she was washing.

Off we went.

I had to walk for part of it - which was really hard but had to be done… you can't drive a motorbike on coral and sand beaches… it just doesn't work.

Carel expertly maneuvered us through a village - little pieces of wood had been strategically placed across little rivers and bumps so that a motorbike could drive. There must be 10 total on this whole island.

Just like usual, the little children come flying out of houses and churches and schools to wave at me or run up to the bike or else just stand and stare wide eyed. We wove between huts, pigs, chickens, monkeys, stray skinny dogs with ribs showing, piles of garbage and mounds of coconuts ready to be burned to keep away the mosquitos.

Once we got through that village we went up an insanely steep mountain and then had to go down - on this defunct motorbike that who KNOWS if the brakes could take it … i started bawling crying and screaming that i was scared. Carel told me it would be okay and we went super super slowly… coming down to see the most beautiful bay i have ever seen. Perfect glassy, still aquamarine blue water with a perfect semi-circle of white sand and endless palm trees.

It was stunning even through my yellow, half opened eyes.

Up and over we entered the jungle. Some cement had been poured, but that is just about the only reason you could have for saying that another human had been here before. the vines and grass and jungles plants whipped our feet as we drove through the middle of this jurassic park-like vibe.

It seemed to last forever… but then again - i have malaria… so everything is lasting longer then it is.

We finally arrived at the Ibu's house.

It was all pink… hot pink walls with turquoise trim…. pink curtains, pink flowers… she sat me in a pink chair and asked my name.

then held a root vegetable between her palms… something that looked like a turmeric - and prayed for a very long time… reciting my name over and over again…

Then she took out a switchblade from a leather purse that was hanging on her window and cut the thing in half and put the two cut halves on the back of her hand.

She smacked her hand until one fell off… and did it several times until she decided which one she needed to use and threw the other one out the slots in the window.

Once again, chanting and praying and mumbling in Bahasa Nias she pulled out some lotion or potion or who knows what and mixed it up with the cut piece of orange vegetable and then smeared it on my forehead, neck, stomach, back and chest.

Then she lead me into the next room which was also pink and turquoise. She threw a cardboard thin mat that had cartoon pictures of fish on it down on her cement floor and instructed me to lie down.

She took a bowl of motor oil and cut up little red onions and salt and mixed it together chanting and praying my name again… and then massaged the motor oil into my muscles.

When she was done she asked if i was better and i didn't know whether to be honest or not because no, i definitely wasn't better. it still ached everywhere and my abdomen was still bad.

As though she read my mind, she came and sat behind me and rubbed my abdomen some more for about a half hour and then just hugged me.

She felt like my mom in that moment and i couldn't help but start crying… I felt so weak and just needed a hug,

She lay me down and told me to sleep.

(Actually sleeping has been damn near impossible… though i can rest - to actually be asleep in one position for an extended amount of time is really challenging)

It was even harder that there was like 5 kids and her whole family just standing there starting at me watching me… plus there was a bowl of motor oil next to me which smelled like hell but she said i had to keep it there.

i looked up at the ceiling which was the corrugated tin roof. A light was tied on to a beam with red packing string. I wondered if and how it worked… and then i was being woken up.

I don't know how long i slept - but i think it was about an hour… and my abdomen pains were completely gone.

She said that i had some black magic in my stomach but she got it out.

Suddenly paranoia took over me.  Apparently this is a symptom of Malaria… but I didn't realize at the time… I didn't realize anything rationally.

I was gripped by terror and fear and curled in a ball against the wall.

I noticed the scuffs and marks on the pink walls… The pencil marks made by a child. I imagined my mother yelling at me when i was 3 for drawing with pencil on the wall.

I felt ashamed and horrified, as though it was me who had drawn on these pink walls.

The cement floor had a sort of plastic cover glued on it reminiscent of linoleum, only it had been cut too big and curled up at the ends, crawling a few inches up the pink walls.

I grabbed my knees and sobbed through clenched teeth and sweat dripping into my eyes.

Carel came and told me it was okay. He tried to call Michelle and put her on the phone for me but i was totally spun out. I asked him if we could leave and as soon as he said yes the skies opened up and rain poured down.

"Hujan dulu. Setelah badai, pita berengkat." Rain First.  After the storm, we'll go.

I sat in the room and cried more… wide eyed and scared… until my wide eyes got heavy and i fell asleep again.

The medicine woman chopped up more onions and herbs and put them in a glass with hot water and then dipped her spoon in the motor oil, stirred it into the glass and made me drink it.

The rain stopped and we left… making a million stops at a million different places for reasons i couldn't quite figure out in my haze.

Finally we made it to the Doctor who was concerned that i was still sick and lay me down on the cot next to the bars in the front room of his house.

(this is the hospital here)

He injected filed of red medicine (apparently mostly just vitamins) into my hips and gave me a slew of new medicines to take with food… and then we came back to Surfing Village.

I guess we were gone for about 5 hours total.

The hours and days of this sickness have completely meshed into one long whimper for me.

Time has gone so slowly though i feel like i have become 95 years old and i'm now an arthritic old lady knocking at death's door.

Shayne texted me and told me he was going to drive up his boat from the Mentawais to come check on me, which is a ridiculous 20 hour mission that i told him he definitely didn't need to do.

I slept and slept and slept.

Today is day 6. I think I started this piece yesterday but I'm not totally sure about anything at this point.

I dreamed in a foggy hazy dream that felt more like the space between when you are just about to fall asleep…. i was in that hazy waiting room for sleep when i saw my aunt Devon so vividly and clearly. I didn't know if i was supposed to ask her something or take a message… She was so clear. So patient and just sitting there ready to be asked whatever i wanted.

But instead i just looked at her and was in her presence.

My brain was too foggy to think of anything.

I just wanted to be near her.

And then i got the message through that i was only able to spend time with her like this because i was so much closer to death then i'd ever been before.

And i think it was just a reminder that no matter how far i go i have guardian angels… in the flesh and in the ether.

My dad always says multiples of 7 are big years.

When i was 7 years old i became a vegetarian and changed my name from Xani to Zan.

When i was 14 i took a turn for the worst and became a trouble maker in every way.

When i was 21 i had my wedding and moved to london

What is 28 gonna be all about?

I feel drawn again to being a nurse.

Always, when i am sick i think about how much i want to be a nurse and help people who are suffering and in pain.

Maybe year 28 is the year i conquer malaria and start school to become a nurse.

i'll just work on the first bit first…

Over the hills and far away

Over the hills and far away

My friend Andrew taught me the beginning of that Led Zeppelin song tonight.

Earlier during our tsunami watch pool tournament under the house where we all played pool while watching the tides and riding out massive 8.2 aftershocks that seemed to shake us harder then the first one, we realized that I had planned to get married at Andrew's grandfather's house in Beverly Hills!
My invitations said "Greystone Manor" and only at the last moment did we switch gears and decide to get married up and over the hill at Lake Shrine on the Ghandi lawn.
Some of our guests who didn't get the last minute change to the invite still went to Andrew's grandfather's house...

Small small world.

It's been fun having so many Americans here- and especially the Californians, who I always find have so much in common with. I talked to my new friend Dillon about a specific restaurant that only a malibu local would know about.

After yoga this morning, Michelle, Dillon & I ventured out around the bay, over the driftwood chunk, coral hills and far away... Well... Not that far away- but considerably far... Far enough that we could strip down to bikinis- something we never do at the resort... Too many locals walking by to and from the village- working and fishing nearby.
Too much skin is just not cool here.

Michelle and I took yoga photos and swirled around in the waves manifesting what we wanted in life...
We are so lucky.



As soon as we returned, I showered and started to give a massage to Tom, the amazing photographer here on behalf of surfing magazine...
Mid massage the room started to sway and rock.
Gembar?
Earthquake?
Everyone turned to one another wide eyed and still to feel the heavy swaying of the earth beneath us.
It seemed to last for an eternity.
I ran down the stairs and stood on the solid ground to feel what was happening.
It was an 8.9 earthquake off Bandah Aceh - just north of where we were.

A tsunami alert went into effect and we all stayed tuned to the news and the tides- ready to make moves to high ground if Mario gave us the nod.
Being Brazilian surfers everyone is non-chalont and flippant about things- making threats and jokes that we were all about to die...
There was a teeter tottering on the verge of panic and worry but instead we took shots of tequila and decided that we would have a tsunami watch party.

Our friends at Latitude Zero, a resort nearby, put their guests in a boat and were idling out off shore... We were ready to get up over the hill and far away from the coast.

The tide surged slightly- only a half a meter at most- which only happened after the second aftershock.

As much as I'd like to say I feel safe and secure and will sleep well tonight, the truth is I am a little scared and wide eyed here in my sleeping nook.

As I said to my friend Clay tonight, "just be ready and be aware."... 
Andre and I decided to be buddy system partners- and totally look out for one another- especially in the event of an emergency.

So mommy... Even though I am over a million hills and far away... I am safe and will sleep with one eye open.

X

Roman Candles

Roman candles

"The only people for me are the mad ones.. The ones who are mad to love, mad to talk, mad to be saved... Desirous of everything.
Who never yawn or say a commonplace thing but burn burn burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the sky... And in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everyone goes ahhhh..."

This Quote from Jack Keroac's epic masterpiece biography of a gypsy called "On The Road" has meant something to me since the first time I heard it.
I don't remember exactly when that was...
But I reference it in my personal poetic manifesto i call "affirmative madness"...
The words are tattooed on my brother Ross's arm...
A few years ago at Christmas I painted a treasure chest box for my mother's art supplies and scribed it on the rounded top in multicolor acrylics...
I have recited it a million times to a million friends and strangers, most recently said those words with my eyes closed around the bonfire on the island a few days ago.

I feel it... I taste it with all the squiggly fibers in my heart.
I know what he's talking about.
I'm a mad one- and they're the only ones for me too.

Between sampoerna smoke and big half empty bin tangs splashing against the green glass bottles, the shirtless boys- half brazilian residents of this place, and half American surfers- rode a skateboard back and forth along the wooden planks of the restaurant...
Kick flipping and falling, laughing though some were bleeding... 
The low moon-like light glimmering out through shell lamps that gracefully hang from the ceiling illuminating perfectly still, abandoned hammocks and the sound of crashing waves just meters away was juxtaposed in the moment by Nirvana blasting to the point of blowing out the surround sound speakers... 
The boys banged their heads to the feedback noise/music and sang inaudible lyrics into the necks of their beer bottles.

Suddenly one of the twenty something boys ran out from behind a pole holding a roman candle triumphantly above his head, and in a moment that reminded me fully of my days teaching preschool - they were all off - on the mad tangent that had just been born in that moment.
They all leaped up and flew down the stairs and across the grass- weaving between palm trees and towards the hut of their main photographer who had hours before slunk off to bed amidst boos and hisses from the rest of the crew who shared not a single inkling of the same idea that it was time for bed.
He would be awoken to a roman candle hiss and seconds later a boom that would streak those spiders across the sky and light up his dark bungalow and the palm trees surrounding us all.

This is my present reality.



I sat with some of these mad ones before the skateboard has come out... We sat on rattan furniture with feet up on various tables and objects. I drew a picture in a book with colored pencils and recalled stories from the past- the conversation circled around music, drugs, and drunken incidents from our adolescence. 
My adolescence felt like it happened a lot longer ago then these young kids.
I realized while talking to mu new friend Dylan who happens to be from Malibu (the next town from where i grew up) that my ten year high school reunion was coming up in a few months but i'd be here in never-never land playing mermaid masseuse and yogini.

One of the guys today told me I was "very grounded" to which I threw my head back and laughed out loud... But I was actually totally flattered by what I took as a major compliment.
To call a gypsy hippie mermaid vagabond "grounded" is a big statement but he said it with conviction and believe it or not, I actually believed it.

I guess I am tossing around this idea - or more like an actual realization- that I can be a roman candle exploding like a spider across the sky and still be grounded somehow.
It doesn't make sense with my rational, realistic mind... How to feel the ground beneath you even as you fly...
But it seems maybe I'm finding that sweet spot in the center of heaven and earth- the breath between the ocean waves...
That space between where My body ends and I begin.

I can still be me- a mad one- a Zanimal - a truly authentic bizarre creative traveling spirit dancing on the gypsum breeze - and also be grounded- a yogi.

I think this is the truly real me anyway- the me that accepts and honors all parts of me... The dark and light- the high and low- the yin and yang.

David Applebaum, piano extrordanaire, member of the mowgli's, and ex-roomie of mine at the OM hOMe in Venice Beach- sent me a voicenote recording today of the two of us playing "come fly with me" on his keyboards years ago.
It felt like yesterday and also a million years ago that we were living in that house - I was still unable to honor the many me's at that point and would push myself to stay up- to party- to be the roman candle- when the yogi inside me was aching and calling out for me to go crawl into a quiet space and be with my thoughts, my words, my art, my spirit.
I lost the grounded me then...

It's ironic that I found her again among roman candles and punk rock in a third world country on the other side of earth with no money or real possessions to call my own... 

But I laughed at the end of the recording.
I laughed the exact same full, guttural laugh that bellowed in my chest - the exact same way I laughed in real life on this island as I looked out at palm trees that monkeys were swinging in- and I laughed on the recording where I would have been sitting on the edge of the bed in the green jungle room in Venice facing my friend David...

I'm still the same Zani as I was then... And that's really cool.

I'm still a roman candle.
Only tonight I sat and watched the explosion from the restaurant.
I didnt jump up and follow the guys like the tigerlily I used to be.
I didn't paint my face and play fight pirates and Indians with the boys... A few years ago I would have been the first to leap off the steps and through the jungle.

Today I can sit and participate from afar.

And now I'm in my sleeping nook upstairs. The chaos is still happening underneath me and I can love them all from here as I fall asleep and dream of wonderful things and places I am going to go to or maybe somewhere new that i will create with my mad imagination.

Is this growing up?
Or am I just discovering that I'm a grounded yogi and a roman candle at the same time?

Either way- I'm here- and thats the moral of that.

no time like the present

early morning.
the tropics.


"I don't understand anyone that doesn't want to live in the tropics" Michelle said yesterday as we trotted along pieces of dried volcano and reef on our way to the secret "Shell's Beach" around the peninsula from the retreat…
Our sarongs blew in the warm breeze and sweat gingerly kissed the sides of our faces... but the silky warm water was just beneath our toes and ready to kiss us back.
A black crab with beady red eyes looked at us and then sideways walked away, disappearing beneath a piece of coral.
The dogs came along for the adventure... one brown and his mother, black and brown... beautiful, loyal, loving hounds that close their eyes and seem to sigh when touched.

This morning i sat on the chaise lounge with both dogs and sipped strong black coffee. I was facing the rising sun that crept up behind this line of coconut trees that seems to constantly dance in steam, or mist, or maybe smoke from a garbage fire… i can't be sure.

I cracked open Shantaram - a huge book that I've been looking at and threatening to read for years and years. This morning seemed like the right time. No time like the present, right?

Two days ago Michelle took out bags of fabric to show me pants she wanted to make… remakes of the long-crotch ones I bought in India and we both live in out here… They are perfect to keep mosquitos from feasting on your skin and also breathe since they are baggy and light.

"Sooo… when?" I asked her as we sat cross legged on the flat little stage/plateau in the middle of the restaurant. Last year when Shayne, Jessica, Pix and I spent a night up here, we gave one of the guests stitches in his foot while he lay across this same stage/plateau thing.
Thankfully the guests we have right now are absolute masters of their craft and surf so perfectly and effortlessly, there is rarely a scratch on their young bodies. They are like super-heros.

Here is the story on one of the guys - shot by one of the other guys. Majorly talented beings hanging around here.

This afternoon (my first on the islands), the boys had all gone out surfing (again) - on waves that they'd seen moments before all exclaimed identically and in unison "HOLY SHIT! THAT'S THE BEST WAVE I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE" - immediately followed by the sounds of wax hurriedly scraping on surfboards, lunches being tossed away, and feet scrambling to go get back in the water.

Michelle and I looked at each other from over the heap of batik fabric and pins stuck in stuffed red tomatoes - an international sewing fashion we decided since pin cushions decidedly always look like tomatoes in every single country we've gone to.
"How 'bout now!?" and off we went on a mathematical head scratcher of a pattern for these amazing pants.
We cut mini versions and drew diagrams with paper and on cloth using a chalk tailor tool.
It still doesn't make sense but somehow it didn't matter.
We were doing it.

Andrew, the sweetest (in my opinion) of the guys came over and told us with always bright, enthusiastic eyes that he loves sewing and often makes stuff too.
That morning he landed on his back directly on top of his fins - coming down from some ridiculous air trick that I would under any other circumstance tell you is impossible.
At 20 years old, he is sponsored by Volcom and Vans and makes a living playing in the ocean.
"I am so lucky." he tells us constantly with genuine disbelief and gratitude for the gift... the present... this reality that has brought all of us here.

I love this humble recognition.
Last night, while giving another massage to Jack - an Australian young pro, he told me he felt lucky not only to be able to surf for a living, but to do something that brings him to the tropics… and not just that… but to Surfing Village in particular.

All the guys keep saying how they think this is the best place ever and I kind of have to agree.
The vibe here is unreal.
So relaxed and real. All love. All inviting...
There are randoms that have just tagged along with Mario and Michelle from somewhere in the world... People that just latch on to this open armed couple and next thing you know they are living here, doing bits and pieces - fixing surfboards, cooking, cleaning, building... It feels like this place is the most non-discriminating environment I have ever been in.

We all sat together on logs of driftwood around the beach bonfire two nights ago underneath palm frawns and a gloriously full moon.
It was low tide and under the moonlight it looked like the glassy water was wrapped in cling film plastic wrap - and the chunks of reef were dropped on top.

This morning as i marinated on the first five pages of Shantaram that I had just devoured and now needed to digest… the same water was at high tide and rippling... it looked like the cling film had been slightly released and buckled under the sunrise light that was pouring through the palm trees and steam/mist/fog…

A fisherman in a triangle hat rowed by into the bay and moments later pulled up on the shore with a giant fish the size of himself… a smile that read he was hoping to sell it to us.

The boys started waking up and traipsing into the restaurant as the sun came higher and higher towards some black clouds that hung over the palms, but posed no threat as they were moving in the opposite direction from us and the pumping swell.

All the boys seem tired and cooked by the hot sun - but as soon as they look out at the waves when a set rolls through, its like every part of them that is tired or weary completely dissolves into the wooden planks and hammocks of the restaurant and you can feel the "game on" energy topple back into the room.

Aint no time like the present…

The boys are waxing up, zincing their noses and getting ready to charge this gift from the universe… this storm that someone weathered weeks ago in Africa - that is here and being transformed into joy for some and art for others… pure entertainment for me.

If there is anything I have learned in the last few months it is to DO IT.

A few weeks ago I was in Crescent Head and I was shocked by how fast the guys would get up and go when we had an idea… I was expecting to sit around and talk about it for a little longer…
We dubbed ourselves "team get shit done"
and that energy is still happening over here.

I thought about a song i wanted to write and so i wrote it yesterday. I have no idea what its about - but its beautiful and my buddy Andrew is gonna help me finish it by the bonfire one night.

The present is SO good.
It would be a crime not to seize it & love it…
There really is no time like it.

p.s. photos take a long time to load with the satellite internet… so once i have a good signal i will load more.
<3

"valeu apena"

Surfing Village...


Michelle and I sat in the crows nest watching the surfers throwing surf boards around and flying upside down and landing in impossible situations among huge barreling glassy waves.
Yesterday was day one of these guys trip and already the cover for next month's Surfing Magazine has been shot and sent off to the editors.

I sat there under the sun, rocking my post-yoga glow and basking in the love that was emenating off this island...
under a million and a half coconut trees that towered above us...
in front of a mountain that was literally steaming in the most gorgeous tropical light you have ever seen cascading down and towards this mecca of surf boards, beautiful brazilian vibes and low lit multi-story bungalows...

"valeu apena"

this is a new Portugese phrase i learned that means it was worth the shame... its was worth the BS...

This moment - just today - it was worth the travels... worth the chaos... the discomfort... the debt... the everything...

I am so grateful to be here, I can't even begin to express it.

We sat around a bonfire tonight under the full moon and exposed dry reef as the huge waves continued to roll through in front of us... the boys were still OOFing as they saw the moon shadows dance across the sets coming through beyond the bonfire smoke.

My new friend Andrew was telling me last night how lucky he feels to be able to surf for a living. He is 20 years old and just gets to play in the ocean for a living...
Saying that, of course, I watched him do some impossible things and clearly is an unbelievable athlete and deserves every bit of what he gets in life.
He is a beautiful soul... So are all these guys. I have been getting to know them all through massages, yoga classes, conversations around the pool table, bonfire, and in the restaurant as we eat meals prepared by my Brazilian buddy and Portugese teacher, Andre.

Surfing is such a beautiful communion with nature... And as much as it scared the crap out of me and i chose to sit on the beach or in the boat and watch or take pictures, i recognize the beauty in it and love being a part of this community.

I played my song tonight to the boys... of course, it's never the same without Baba Aaron there playing guitar - but i know he's here in spirit with me... Especially as I rock out the songs that he taught me in India... I am always to proud to tell people that I learned guitar in India in exchange for yoga classes from my amazing musician brother Aaron.

When i think about how much I am in debt... or start to freak out about planning for the future, i can feel my throat constricting... i can feel myself slipping into some kind of panic anxiety - and immediately i recognize it - something i learned through meditation - just observing this as it crops up.
I recognize it and release it and remember

Valeu Apena...

It's always worth it in the end.
As long as i am following my heart and doing what i love, surrounded by beautiful bright lights - and wonderful people with huge hearts and equally huge smiles... i can't be wrong.

Like Marcel the Shell says in the very last line...
"wanna know why i smile?... cuz its worth it."



OH man... i was just about to hit publish and it's 11:11pm.
DUH.

sumatrandipity...

04-04-12
This morning I woke up at the Havilla Maranatha in Padang, West Sumatra - the hotel i wrote about missing a few days ago.

I woke up yesterday in Kuala Lumpur Malaysia and willed the universe to make THIS day better then the one before... the one where i had woken up in Sydney, gone to the airport and been slapped with a $237 excess baggage fee, boarded one of the worst flights of my life, and arrived in a city I'm not crazy about only to deal with a slew of other issues and little chores that just got under my already irritated skin.

Thank GOD i had a hotel room in KL. Usually I opt to sleep in the airport - but that hot shower and comfy bed made a huge difference to me.

I woke up, boarded my Padang flight without a hitch and looked out the window as i flew over volcanos and endless fields of palms and coconut trees.
Before I knew it, I was landing in Padang - exiting through the shoddy customs terminal - who for the first time decided to open all my bags and ask me if i had drugs.

I got to Spice Homestay which was teeming with people. Apparently a bunch of pros have zipped over here last minute to catch these three swells which are rolling in to Indonesia right now. I met Andre, my new Brazilian roommate and Island chef - who informed me that we would not be leaving tonight as originally planned.

This is Indo.

They call it "jam karet" or "rubber time"... nothing happens the way you think it will or on the time you plan for it.


Andre and I had to find a place to stay and I knew just the place. We headed over to Maranatha and got a room which felt like an AC haven from the unbelievably hot day that was beating down on us.
We ran errands all over Padang (a MUST when you are here)... After MANY stays in Padang I have found that if you don't have stuff on a to-do list, you go crazy here...
So my new Brazzo brother and I wandered around Padang busying ourselves with bits and pieces and preparing for our departure which was now scheduled one day late, as he taught me Portuguese.
We made a deal - i will teach him basic guitar, he will teach me Portuguese.

After we went into the Pasar (known as the vortex) and before our massages at the awesome $4 massage place i am obsessed with which would cap our busy Padang day, we stopped back into Spice to pick up a few things. It was ever busier then it was earlier. A group had just returned from the islands and another group was going out.

There was an adorable little ginger snazz baby running around. (something you rarely see out here being that this is not exactly a family destination)... I started talking to the mom who told me she was from california... and not only that... but she lived in monterey. WOW. this is the first time maybe ever in my travels i have met someone from my birthplace and home to my grandparents...

it got weirder.

The husband recognized a story i was telling about my Grandpere - an amazing 95 year old man - read this LLYOV post to read more…

This man not only recognized the story but called my Grandmother, Merryll Cottrell by name - and told me he was Grandmere's opthamologist.

In a living room on West Sumatra, I was sitting with my Grandmother's opthamologist.

My mind was blown. What kind of serendipitous synchronicity was this?

Andre and I returned to Maranatha and decided to call it a night after some nasi goreng and a pocari sweat.

In the room I received a message from soul brother, Paul who was still in Sydney and mega inspired - writing up a storm of poetry… He told me he has written a poem for me and send this:


Dancing on transcending planes
She shares her inner glow
Like the beauty of melodic strains
You bear witness to her show

A thirst for life
Quenched only by things new
Pure energy runs rife
She embodies the good in you

She is for you, she is for me
She is for whoever is ready
A recipe for being free
She plants roots only to stay steady

Some call her their light
Their guide along life's road
Some say they have seen her in full flight
Carrying the secrets to life's code

So complex yet simply simple
And to think I almost missed her
Wings replaced with angel's dimples
She is my gypsy soul sister

----
I basically just sat there totally floored and next to tears, but too happy to cry.
What an unbelievable gift he just gave me.
LOVE.

Upon waking up at Maranatha, I reread that poem and smiled from ear to ear.

Andre and I ran around and finished our to-do list and then went to the guest's hotel to meet the boys that would be our inaugural group this season.
We walked into Plan B - a bizarre hotel with no windows in the bedrooms - and met the boys… and i mean BOYS… a group of 6 super young professional surfers ranging from 15 - 20 and 4 photographer/videographers. (one Aussie, one Brazilian, and the rest Californian or Hawaiians.)

We boarded the Coast Guard Patrol boat called "The Blue Eagle" and found our cots in the steaming hot loud underside of the boat that would cross us from Padang up to the Telos Islands and land us at Surfing village right at surmise.

I woke up to the halt of the engine and came up on deck to find Mario, my dreadlocked Brazilian surfing buddy and new boss. "E ai!" I yelled and threw up my arms…
(two days of learning Portuguese in Padang paid off in that moment)…

The sun was painting the sky every shade of excitement I have ever seen.

Three at a time we loaded into the tiny dugout canoe paddled by two Indo workers and did our best to stay balanced as we came through the keyhole in the reef.

HOME.

The sun came up to reveal a drop dead gorgeous day with huge pumping waves that the boys jumped right into. Photographers set up on the beach, in boats and in the water, placing their ridiculously expensive gear into high tech water housings.
It was game on.

Me, Andre & Michelle (Mario's wife and my mermaid yoga sister/also new boss) unloaded the boxes of produce that had come on the boat, organizing the kitchen and filling hanging baskets with fruit that looked like this beautiful bountiful tropical wonderland of health and wellness and joy.

There is not one ounce of bad vibe in this entire place.

After lunch I took a nap for a few hours - attempting to catch up on the sleep I lost on the boat… Then i gave two massages and taught a sunset yoga class on the third floor of the A-frame restaurant come community house that is topped with a big open room that looks out of every side onto ocean, jungle and magic.

I feel so grateful to be here.

Tonight i will sleep in my little zen zone room I created and vibed out with scarves and tapestries - folding my clothes and putting them in hanging shelves, which is SUCH an unbelievably joyous thing for me.

I have lived this gypsy life for such a long time now - living out of suitcases and in random places - i forget how important it is for me to have my own space.

I will crawl under my mosquito net tonight and sleep in yet another place

5 nights in 5 beds in 5 very different places.

Sydney, Australia
Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia
Padang, West Sumatra
Indian Ocean on board a Coast Guard boat
Telos Islands, Indonesia

And now i am home.

Northern Beach Shenanigans

My last weekend of this Australia adventure started out at the Lutkajtis house...
I woke up at dawn with a winged heart (as Khalil Gibran instructs us to do in "sand and foam")


I sat on the veranda that overlooks the South of Sydney and looked out as the morning sun danced across the snaking Georges River.
Janice came and sat with me on her deck in the sweet sunshine... With our feet up, we sipped coffee and chatted... and the kukaberras replied with their laughter from the trees.
Paul woke up and drove me down to the station where I boarded a train to Circular Quay and wrote my previous "Happy Alone" piece while listening to music and finding myself generally happy and content in the moment... The transient locomotive forward moving energy that, as an Aries especially, I get so down with.


The ferry ride gave me a beautiful and unique view of "the city"... The Harbor bridge, the Opera House & the rocks, where we've sat and had wine or cocktails multiple times since I've been playing Australian, most notably before and after seeing Bon Iver play on the magnificent Opera House stage two nights in a row.

I saw the 'secret beach' we found my first day in Sydney... A little lookout point cove nestled in the side of Vacluese (an up market area of the Eastern suburbs)

Our ferry choo-choo'd towards the Pacific ocean, ultimately wrapping around the north head and landing us in Manly Wharf.

As I've mentioned before, I feel like this East Coast of Australia can be drawn in parallel to California- its mirror reflection up across the sea...
Where Melbourne feels San Francisco-y... Sydney feels like the greater LA area which is probably why I love it, being a 6th generation Los Angelina and growing up on the beaches of LA... I feel connected and comfortable in Sydney.



Upon disembarking the Manly ferry, I instantly felt the beach town vibe... Reminiscent of Newport Beach, manhattan Beach, Huntington, Hermosa... Even San Clemente and down into North County San Diego.

On the other side of this ferry are men in button down shirts... Here in The Northern Beches you saw more belly buttons then shirt buttons... Minimal footware and an overall mega relaxed energy.

My Northern Beach surfer girls, Laura, Jane & Jules picked me up at the ferry in all their awesomeness- total positive, bright sunny energy... Exactly what I came to recognize and love in them last July when they came to the island as guests on their annual surf trip.

The sun was out and it felt like the universe was playing this tease game chanting like a kid on a playground, hanging upside down off the monkey bars with a blue lollypop hanging out of his mouth "are you suuuuuuuure you wanna leave Sydney?"
"zaaaaani.... Oh, zaaaaaaani."
"look at what you'll be missing..."

What a little shit.

We drove all the way up to the gorgeous Palm Beach suburb, stopping to have a whale of a time in Whale Beach for lunch...
We are such a good foursome!
I mean... Actually THEY are an amazing threesome who go on surf trips together all the time- (they leave for Mexico on Easter Sunday)... But I throw myself in their mix and feel pretty stoked to be among them.


We hiked to the top of a trail where a lighthouse lookout point reveals sweeping views along the northern beaches and Pittwater across the Pacific and up the central coast.

The views and lookouts sprinkled all over this city are probably my favorite feature of the Sydney experience.

We stopped by Janie's house in Narrabeen and met her mum and twin sister Mel, who is her polar opposite but equally awesome... And then Jules and I went to have dinner with her parents - the sweetest couple who were warm and welcoming and so interesting to talk to that we actually sat at the table for hours and hadn't even started to think about showering and getting ready when Jane called asking where we were.

To prolong getting out of the house even further, I found a guitar and got lost in a singsong to myself- perched on the guest bed, wrapped in a towel with dripping wet hair. Like getting suddenly snapped out of a dream and crashing back to reality, I realized it was waaaaay past time to go so I quickly bejeweled myself - threw on all my bangles and necklaces, a turquoise dress and boots and off we flew out the door.

We arrived at "the new bar in Newport" that nobody seems to know the name of, but everyone is stoked it exists as an alternative to going out all the way down in Manly.

Without getting carded (which always pisses me off and makes me feel old as hell) we strutted through the door of this nameless new bar- under a chandelier and down a flight of stairs and into a room full of a very eclectic group of people- from oldies to youngens- a DJ spun good fun music (think Jackson five)... And relaxed bartenders created interesting cocktails like muddling chunks of ruby red grapefruit with vodka and ice and topping with bitters and lemon/lime (sprite)...

I immediately saw a guy walk past the bar in a red knit beanie - rocking a hipster beard, black tanktop and jeans... He could have been straight out of Venice beach, I thought to myself.

One cocktail later and I found myself pinned up against the bar by this beautiful man. He told me he wanted to know everything about me, showed me his mermaid tattoo and decided we should go sit outside and talk and kiss and talk some more.

The clock struck closing time and we realized we'd been on that curb for a solid couple of hours- being totally open... Communicating and telling our life stories to one another somewhat sarcastically. We understood each other in an intense Aries way.. (something you can only understand if you are one- which both my parents are and can attest to)...

We said goodbye and I ran through the parking lot under the street lights to meet my friends who were waiting for a taxi that I managed to jump in and go back to Jane's house for some drunk food making and Tracy Chapman dance party in the kitchen until 2am



I fell asleep to Tracy Chapman every night on the island last year... It has become my JAAAM- my mermaid tunes.
Jane told me she wanted to play DJ as soon as we got home and blasted out Tracy Chapman which made my heart swell and soar like it always does.

I woke up in a room with Jules and Laura and rolled out of bed to find a text from the bearded man. He was inviting me to come enjoy the sunshine on my last day over at his incredible cliffside house while the girls surfed- an early afternoon hour to spend just a little more time together.

Just in time for 11:11, a number he sees regularly too, i got to the dream house, styled out with Buddha heads, driftwood and recycled furniture, candles and perfect mellow vibe. Once again- could have been Venice Beach.
I met his gorgeous blue dog and his pet blue tongued lizard... I wore a blue thai tank top and gazed out at the turquoise blue ocean from the front of his house...
He told me about a surf trip he was planning to go on that will take a ten piece orchestra to play on the water while the boys surf and then this artist will combine the orchestral music with the surf video they'll make on the trip.
It sounded so epic and enticing I invited myself on the spot and eventhough its basically a ridiculous impossibility that I could go- I just say stuff all the time like "Oh ya. I'm coming to that. Hundred percent."

Who knows? It's not like I haven't manifested magic before.


The girls arrived to pick me up and once they could catch their breath after seeing the view and vibe happening, they all chatted in their Aussie way, (all three with exposed belly buttons and not a shirt for miles) rapping about surfing. The girls told him stories about me paddling out in the Mentawais and sitting on a board with my back to the waves getting all zen and natural- my palms flat on the surface of the water telling the girls how I could feel the heartbeat of the tides - when suddenly a huge freak set came through and panic/chaos ensued...
Must have been an irregular marine heart palpitation.
We all laughed and I realized that for how short a time I've spent with all three of these people, I feel like they all totally got me.

I reluctantly left this beautiful tease from the universe and carried on through with my plans to depart Sydney.

A pretty magical last day though for sure.

I shoveled down thai food in Manly as I waited for the ferry...
I'm decidedly a nervous eater and a sad starver.
Too bad I'm always happy so I rarely reap the benefits of the sadness diet... But definitely ate until I was uncomfortably full and then ate antipasto a few hours later.


Paul met me at the Opera Bar back on the button down shirt side of Sydney, where we sat and drank Australian wine and jammed out together like we always do...
When he stood up to buy the bottle from the bar he dropped an envelop on the table and told me to open it.

Inside was hands down the best letter I've ever gotten.
The most epic brotherly love letter that made me cry.

I am gonna miss the schnitz out of my soul buddy and partner in awesome. This month was our month- we both went through so much... Shared meditations, sing-alongs, roadtrips, Bon Iver, hostels, star gazing, nights out, nights in- and a lot of candy.

My brother from the south side- my sisters to the north...

I believe Sydney is now officially my favorite city on earth.

That is a HUGE thing for me to say.
I have had a love affair with every inch of this city- from the South, to the Shire, to the city, the Eastern suburbs and now that this epic epic weekend in the northern beaches had sealed in my love for the city...

I will come back to you one day soon, Sydney.

For now... It's a 9 hour flight to Kuala Lumpur on Air Asia's first ever Syd-KL flight.

WORD OF THE WISE:
Pay the extra money and miss out on this flight!
It was only $450- but I just paid an extra $235 for my baggage at the airport- and there is no food/drinks/entertainment for NINE hours... Plus the fact that the seats are on top of one another so if you happen to be sat beside a large Asian man (like me) you will be less then stoked.

Ah well.

Nine hours to snuggle up with a stranger and dream back the last month of my life spent down under.

I'm a lucky girl.

Happy Alone

Saturday - March 31, 2012
Sydney, Australia



I'm on a train alone... It feels like ages since the last time this happened...
It was almost exactly 3 weeks ago in Melbourne as I paraded around that San Francisco style South Australian metropolis, ambassador-ing yoga products, meditating in botanical gardens, riding street cars just to people watch, and making friends with the nutty nut store couple who still want to set me up with their 45 year old Greek friend.

A million years have passed since then.

I returned to Sydney and my pseudo-family I've been adopted by... My favorite woman in Venice Beach arrived and the list of "quotables" began formulating- citing hilarious things said along our journey while unexpectedly touring with Bon Iver, cuddling koalas, feeding kangaroos and then dodging them in our shaggin wagon as we drove down the East Coast of Australia, stopping in beach towns along the way- sleeping in beds belonging to friends & strangers- though as I discovered about this time last year with my friend Mick in Padang "strangers are just friends you haven't met yet."

Mick emailed me this morning.
I haven't seen him since last year though we've been on bizarrely parallel paths- through SE Asia and India... He headed out on the Sumber Reseki last night (God speed and patience to him on that journey)

On Monday I will return to Padang- our Mentawai mainland hub on the poverty stricken, disaster and disease riddled West Sumatran coast.


I left in October of last year- 8 months after I arrived for the season.
I had no idea how long I would stay or what to expect.
I had credit cards and no cash... I'd quit my life in California and had created nothing but space and was excited to see what unfolded over the course of a year.
I lived and worked as a masseuse and yoga instructing mermaid hostess on a private island resort... I spent a month in Thailand... I fell into a relationship with a pirate and climbed aboard his boat for months- only coming to land every 10 days to dump the hungover, sunburned, surfed-out Aussie boys and pick up 9 more fresh ones... I canceled my ticket to Australia to stay and play mermaid a little longer before bidding "sampai jumpa" to Indonesia and heading to India, England, Calfornia and finally here to Australia... Thank God I made it after all, because I really really love this place and plan to find a way to live here within the next year or so.

It's funny how certain memories stick in your mind- like for some reason they were coated in adhesive as they glided through your reality and bam! It's stuck for good... Other things I try really really hard to remember and just can't no matter how hard I try.

One of those sticky memories is my last morning i woke up in Padang... It was still dark when my alarm went off but my eyes were open in the dark. I think Shayne's were too. We reluctantly climbed out of bed and started gathering my bags and walking them out to the patio at Maranatha where we always stayed.:. Always the same room - which was the first room we ever kissed eachother in. We always stayed there- except for once when we got back from a trip to Jakarta and "our room" was flooded from a broken leaky air conditioning unit.
It felt bizarre to sleep in a new bed which is ironic and silly being that I am absolutely by definition, a gypsy.
I've slept in 12 different beds so far this month in Australia and God only knows how many in the last year as I've galavanted around the globe.

I don't actually have a "home" though I use my parent's address in San Diego as an address when required for something.
I have been essentially homeless since November 2010.
A couch-surfing traveller, gypsy, professional houseguest, rugged mermaid vagabond...

They say home is where the heart is- and I always think that's funny cuz my heart is inside of me.
So that means I am always home, right?

When I was in India and people would ask where I lived I'd say Indonesia because... Well... That's where I lived that year- but I never had a chest of drawers that was mine- or a bed that only I slept in... It always depended on the night as to where I'd sleep on the island.
I guess that's why this sticky memory of my last night is Padang makes me a little homesick...
Because it was "our" bed and I had a closet and stuff would stay where I left it... And I hadn't really had that in a long time.

I was raised a gypsy too.

We had lived in 14 houses when I was 12 years old. There was never homebase.
I guess that's where I learned to wrap my arms around myself and dance to the tempo of my heart which is what I do today

Alone on this train headed to the ferry i'll take to northern beaches - tapping my toes to that tempo and getting ready to return to indo when this weekend is over ...

But i am happy alone... i am complete inside of myself... and inspired by solo train rides...

Even when i am "lost" or don't know exactly where i am in space - i know that my heart is still inside my chest, so I am home...
Everywhere.



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

2 days later...
7:20am - about to go to the airport.

I wrote that last post... arrived at Manly Wharf -
and was greeted by the dude brood - Jules, Jane & Laura...
Story on this weekend to follow...

But pertinent to this particular piece...

I wrote "Happy Alone" only to meet a guy that night.

IS this proof of the stop looking at it comes around thing or what?

He walked up to me at a bar and said he wanted to know everything about me.

I told him i was a mermaid to which he showed me the mermaid he had tattooed on his ribcage... i told him i was from california to which he rolled his eyes and said all week he'd been asking the universe to send him a california girl.
We sat on a gutter outside the bar and talked for 2 hours and then like cinderella when the clock hit last call and my friends rolled out of the bar - i left.

But i went back to his house that afternoon while my friends surfed and we stared at each other a little more.

...And like the mermaid that i am, I had to return to the water - so off i go- leaving behind this amazing guy and somehow trying to remember what i had written the day before... I am home HERE - where my heart beats.
I am complete.
(cue sound effect of aching tearing heart strings)

God, I'm a hopeless romantic.