Can't Fit In, Can't Fit Out

The other night the Earth rumbled and I wasn't sure if it was the ocean, an earthquake, or a thunderstorm.

....Or maybe just my stomach.

This is the first time in my life that I've lived on a beach. Literally, on a beach.

I feel the salt water sift between the palm trees in the day, as I sit on the deck of our lodge. I scoop land crabs out from beneath my bed in the afternoons, whenever I care enough to do so. And the ocean is loud beneath my pillow at night.

Besides for the very, very moldy clothes, the unsightly condition of my mosquito-bitten legs, and mucho, mucho thunderstorms, I am quite happy with this paradise.

But, "paradise" - it's everywhere, you know?

I realized that a few months ago, while traveling through the windy green hills of Costa Rica's central valley. "If you want to view paradise, simply look around a view it," goes the theme song to Willy Wonka, a fine piece of inspiration and perspective for those who care to explore it.

You don't need to come to Costa Rica to discover it. But, you are welcome to do so.

So, my bed shakes and I wake to the rumbling. Sometimes, I love to wake in the middle of the night. Just to listen. Beautiful things happen in the dawn. It's nice to explore these hours when I can. And there I lie, face up in my tiny room, tossing between the ocean waves and the skies thunder.

And I'm reflecting on all that I have learned in these past 2 weeks. How long has it been already?

Some of the things I learned, I didn't consider learning at first. I considered it annoyance - someone picking on me. Something going wrong. Something frustrating.

It is only until later that I reflect on what has caused the disturbance in me. And I understand that anytime there is agitation, it means it's time to shake awake.

I used to force it. (Sometimes, I still fall into this habit). I needed to know why. Why does he say "gringas are not carinosa"? Why won't he call me? How can I get this to work, now?! 

By blood, I'm 0% Latina. I am a mix of Italian, Irish, German -- my genes are some cocktail of European descent. By land, I was raised on the soil of The United States. Mostly New Yorkan, a few years Floridian, some exploring of the lands in between.

I don't know what it counts for, in the eyes of fellow United States-ians, but I have also lived almost 4 years in Central America.

I especially don't know how Central Americans feel about this.

I'm not sure if anyone really cares at all.

I do know that it has affected me in a lot of ways. I cannot rid myself of the genes that shape who I am. It is hard for me to change my Italian-family-pasta-loving, often loud-speaking ways. It has taken me years and years to distinguish between learning how to stand up for myself and learning when to walk away.

I grew up in a household where there was yelling and arguing. I am not sure I want to live this way any long, and it is still something I need to work on changing... However, I appreciate the fact that I was raised to learn how to stand up for myself. That gender did not matter - I could do anything that a man could and I had no fear in this aspect. I also appreciate that my parents taught me that my opinion matters. That sometimes it is okay to get excited about thing that I care about.

And then there is my living abroad that has taught me to slow down, speak sweetly, and listen more carefully. It doesn't mean that I don't battle between being calm in moments of dissonance, and raising my voice a bit to a man I feel is disrespecting me.

But sometimes, I wonder what all this... traveling, living abroad, nomadism... what does it all really mean? Some people think it's cool. Some people are offended. Some people are proud to share and exchange. Some people think we don't belong.

Perspective is everything.

Anyways, it's hard sometimes, for me. The cultural differences. The language barrier.

The past year, almost everyone I speak to in spanish thinks that I am Costa Rican. Or, at least they say so. I don't know if they're telling me the truth.

I suppose that is some sort of compliment to my ability to integrate and rock a heavy accent.

However, sometimes, this is hard for me. I think that because I can convey almost everything I want to say in spanish and also understand it, I think people assume that I am fully comfortable doing so...

Which....

at times, I am....

but, mostly, I am not.

You know when you just can't find that word you are looking for in English? Well, that happens to me almost always in spanish. I have gotten to the point in my language skills where I can communicate fluently...however, my vocabulary hardly expands.

So, I can't always find the exact words I would choose in English. Or the exact tone of voice I would use. Or the eloquence I may be able to find in my first language.

So Costa Ricans will ask me "why so serious?"
....when I don't think I am being serious.

Or, "be a little sweeter, mi amor"
....but I don't want to say 'my love' to someone who is not my boyfriend (because this is new to me).

So, I can't quite fit in.
And I no longer fit out.

I'm not sure which I'd prefer.

To embrace my United States-ian, European-ish, New Yorker ways, or be a little more open to learning "when in Rome"...

I suppose a combination of both is best...
just not easy.

And so, this is the path I have chosen. So I must take the little bumps (plus some big whip lashes) as they come and use it to grow.

So, if it was thunder, an earthquake or the ocean that woke me from my sleep, I cannot tell you.

In the end it doesn't matter. It's all one and the same.

A shake, a rumble, a roar...

I am awake now.

That's what happens after tumultuous times.

Reflecting on my Rant

Awhile ago I wrote something. I think I called it a rant.

I remember how I felt when I was writing it.
I remember the series of articles I had read from the NY Times. Immigration. Wall Street. Monsanto. 
I remember I had only been in the US (Westchester County, NY - to be more relevant) for a couple weeks, after having been living in Central America for 10 straight months.
I remember sitting on the train amongst men and women ranging from 18 - 80 years in dry cleaned suits bearing iPads and iPhones, Starbucks and Pressed Juice, advertisements lining the insides of the trains, the stations we stopped at and even the building walls we sped by.
A mind fresh out of almost a year living in a rainforest, now overly sensitive to the media, technology, modernisation..."development".

The very thing I studied.

A Masters of Environment, Development, and Peace.

Yet, whenever I say this to people I find myself following-up with a 3-5 minute explanation about my philosophy on development.

And now here I am in the heart of it: New York magnificent City and I cannot even write 1 nice thing about it in my peaceful blog.

Just, a rant.

A while later now, and I'm writing something.

And I am very in touch with how I am feeling, as I almost always am (for better or for worse).

I am not floating in ecstasy - as I sometimes do.
      When I'm free in the ocean.
           When a curly haired cutie kicks me a ball on the beach.
       When a toucan flies over my head while I am lying down for savasana after a sacred session.

I am not angry - as I sometimes get.
      When I read about the injustices happening in the world at this very moment.
        When my friend in Central America tells me her sister was violently abused on her journey north.
       When I watch people mindlessly throw away good food. When I cannot enjoy a pineapple because of what I witnessed in farming.

I am just sitting here. In a place of acceptance for the present-day situation of the world. In a place of understanding of what I am capable of. A place of reality. (Side note: acceptance does not mean inaction or agreement). 

And I see a photo. And it is of New York City.
And a small smile crosses my face.

And I think of the man with a strong accent who sold me a tasty bagel every morning in the summer of 2008 and always had something nice to say.
And I imagine the lady on the subway who helped me one day when I was in a bad mood and had too much to carry.
And I remember the taxi cab driver of 2012 who handed me my money back plus extra for a fundraiser I was telling him about at the time.

And I remember the rant.
And I recognise where I am now.

Perhaps, sometimes we need to vent. We are fed a lot of BS. We are fed a lot of realities. Both hurt. And I suppose if we don't find some way to detoxify it or alchemise it, it will burn us up inside. I suppose it is already doing so to many people - and it metamorphoses into physical disease.

I don't know, yet, how much the rant served me.
I wasn't in the place I am now. I am ready to admit that after a long and intensive year at the United Nations University of Peace- of really dissecting peace and conflict with a combination of historical analysis of global violence and present-day massacres, alongside students and friends who lived these experiences first hand, my light was dimming. It was all overwhelming and the reality hurt.

Looking back now - those very friends are the ones who come to mind -and give me faith.
Their determination and perseverance, their projects, but more so their souls that are so easy for me to feel, they give me immense peace of mind.

I am in a better place of understanding now, and I feel better.
I feel more at peace.
And I think this is good. For me and for everyone.

And as I smile at the images of the beautiful people I met in NYC, I ask myself, and all the beautiful spirits of the world who guide me, to help me remember to not let society make me bitter. To not let the sicknesses of the world infect me. But rather, to let my awareness expand to acknowledge that these things do exist - injustices, disease, violence. Let me be accepting enough to know that somewhere in my path, I was given the strength and capacity to feel the pains of the world.
And while in the moment I may hurt and I may wade in the waters, help me to know that I can rise above.

Because in this place I am in now, I recognise that I do not want the world to make me bitter.

There are too many good people, doing too many good things, for me to lose faith.

And it's not what I am about.
Although often logical, practical and realistic - at heart there is no denying that I am a dreamer.
A Believer.

Only because the world has given me too much not to be.

An amazing family.
An extensive set of loving friends worldwide.
Acquaintances everyday who teach me something new. And make me smile.
Strangers doing things without expecting anything in return.
Good people doing small yet immensely impactful things - that hardly anyone hears about.

And a planet that gives and gives and gives.
No matter how much we abuse.
It is oh so forgiving.

And everyday it gives a gift to us. In the form of amazing colours. Or beautiful tastes. In fragrant rains or melodic sounds.

And I am so blessed to be able to live in places with the ability to see it.

Today I am writing something.
And I think I'll call it gratitude.

Never Just Right

I was trained to love within limits.

I was conditioned to hold back
Want more
Express less.

I was told I am this body.
And I have to make it beautiful.


I was taught to keep a face
Be who they wanted
Smile.

I wasn't good enough.
Or I was too good.

Never just right.

That's why goldy-locks is a fairy-tale.

There's never "just right".

Too hot.
Or too cold.

Never just right.

You cannot please them.
Anyone.

So stop trying.

Just please yourself.

Said my soul. To my body.


I was told what I could do
Or couldn't do.
In the perspectives of others.

And many times
my naive mind
listened.

One day
and
Sometimes
(Not always)
I learn.

I can do whatever I want.

Only my heart truly knows
In its Universal wisdom
In the nature of it's ways
As my inner being

It knows.

I am a soul
I have a body.

It is already beautiful.
It is already loved.
It is my vehicle.

But I can always fly beyond it.

No more "not good enough"s. No more "too good"s.

It's just a body.
I am a soul.

It's just a body.
And I am so grateful for the way it moves me.

It's just a body.

To love without limits.
To break chains
To live wholly, vulnerably. free!

This scares the shit out of people.

So they will tell you
From the limits of their own comfort zone
That you're not
just right.

But only you know.
When you feel it.

When you catch a wave. When you ride a bike. When you're in the arms of your lover.
When your daughter squeezes you. When take a beautiful photo.
When someone tells you "Thank you".

You know.

You are a soul.
You have a body.

And you are just right.