Lili's Eyes

I spoke with Lili and Karyme yesterday.

Every time I hear their delicate voices through a choppy connection, I picture where they are standing. It is that same spot that I stood in so many times, hoping the call wouldn't drop with a loved one from the states. It's the spot just outside the kitchen area, where the smoke from the wood-burning stove burns my eyes.

The stray dogs are gathered in a tiny heard in front of me, peering up at me with puppy eyes and floppy ears, hoping I will open the door to the kitchen. The chickens are wandering around aimlessly, waiting for Lili to give them their morning feed and the kitty is perched on the clay tile roof, licking her paws from her nightly endeavors.

I know that "molino" that grinds the morning corn, soon to be rolled, patted & flopped upon the clay "comal". I know that dog that growls in the background (Terry). I close my eyes and I see Nina Doris washing clothes by the "pila" and Nena making me some scrambled eggs in the kitchen.

I don't know the voice that says "hola Jaime, la extraniamos, como esta".

Is it Lili? or Karyme?

Why can't I tell? :(

They have gotten older since I first met them. You can tell because Lili's curls are longer and her teeth are... there.

You can tell because Karyme doesn't have that pudgy baby fat rolling and creasing all over her Dora-the-Explorer sized body.

You can tell because their voices sound the same.

Or, do their voices sound the same because it has been so long since I have seen them? This is Lili, the first month I met her (5):

I fell in love with her instantly. It was her eyes. They told the story of a deep soul. They were dark with a painful past, but deep with a child's wisdom. They flooded easily, but forgave sincerely. They looked at me with a longing and found in me an understanding.

It was her smile. It did not want to come out at first. It hid behind a skepticism. It thought it wasn't suppose to. But then it came. Like a rainbow. 

It was her hands. Afraid to touch. Gentle. Hesitant. Her fingers finding the freckles on my arms. A hug that leaves me aching. 

This is Karyme (3), Lili's cousin by blood, but sister by nature.

If you are not in the mood to smile, or laugh, you don't have a choice. She runs the town...and while she may have the power in pure cuteness, but her words will floor you. She once kicked a drunk guy off her property.

We have had many conversations about girl troubles, hairstyles and future jobs.

She has no idea why they placed her in Kindergarten this year.

I suppose it's needless to write the words "I miss them." I suppose you know I have tears streaming down my face right now. I suppose you have fallen in love, as well.

I cannot wait for the day when I see them again. It musn't be too long, because... because it musn't. 

Teaching mama how to use facebook has paid off because I'm kept "up to date" with photos. Here they are on our newly paved road: 

I'm supposed to be right in between them :(

I have to admit, that road pains me a little. Oh how many times I complained about the dirt and the rocks and the mud...but wasn't that what made it all so fun? You boring cement you. 

What makes a place beautiful is it's people. What makes a place a home, is it's people. What makes the world turn round, is the people...and I'm totally convinced there's a really great one who was picked to keep spinning it.

Lili & Karyme were those people for me in El Salvador. They gave me a reason to stay, when I wanted to leave. They made me laugh, when I was already crying. They made me have hope, when I was ready to say "I'm never going to 'be the change'!"

They are the reason for this: http://www.byhappiness.org . 

And no matter what happens... with the organization, with my job, with my 'home', with life...

I am so very grateful I set foot in that joyful land, in that beautiful mountainside, with those munchkin faces. 

I see the world through a new set of eyes. 

A pair of eyes I share with Lili.

And for that, I am everyday grateful.

Say I'm a Bird

Say I'm a Bird

There are times when I just do not want to be me.

I want to be a butterfly.

Among the rainforest, I cannot be found.

As if I do not exist. 

There are places I am sure I do not belong.

Whose hands placed this shirt upon me?

There are moments I wonder how I got here.

Was it my feet that carried me?

How far along am I?

Who chooses the footprints that are brushed away?

There are people whose faces bewilder me.

Their faces show my reflection.

There are sounds I cannot escape.

My beating heart chokes my throat.

The crickets crawl beneath my comforter.

The rainy season.

There are times when I just do not want to be me.

So I ask myself, “who is this person, whom you claim to be?”

Perfectly Imperfect

Being Perfectly Imperfect

(featured on IntentBlog.com, see http://intentblog.com/perfectly-imperfect/)

It is very difficult not being perfect.

I get impatient when I am stuck behind a slow-moving crowd on the streets of New York City. I fight with my sisters. I judge smokers. I re-live painful memories of my past.

I eat after 7:00pm…usually a pint of ice cream…and sometimes a side of pickles.

I have trouble balancing on one foot. I hit snooze six times before I get out of bed, take too long in the shower, and then I am late for work.

I scratch my nose while meditating.

It is so hard to be perfect. Yet somehow we think that we can be.

We get upset at ourselves for not being able to have a perfect warrior two pose in our yoga practice. We think we deserve sadness because we cheated on a prior lover. We regret and regret and regret the slice of pizza we ate the night before.

What about recognizing our imperfections and loving them? What about breathing deep, acknowledging our bad memories and then letting them go in one strong exhalation? What about having a short meditation on our errors, reflecting on how good we will feel next time we choose better decisions?

I am a human being.

I do yoga everyday, I smile at strangers, I stand on my head, and I often fall down.

I have anxieties.

Sometimes, I get mad at myself for having feelings.

It is then that I remind myself that my feelings and anxieties are not the issue. These are not my imperfections. These will not go away.

This is what makes me human and this is my mind and body telling me something.

What I have the power over is choosing how to react to those anxieties and feelings. I determine the activities to partake in to create the space that will help me learn and progress from the state of my insecurity.

It is difficult not being perfect.

I am still hurt by past lovers, I ache at family hardships, and my backbend is poor.

“I need to let go. I should not feel this way. I am supposed to be able to do this.”

Says who?

Be who you want to be. Create the space that will help you get there.

I intend to be perfectly imperfect:

I will acknowledge my weaknesses and I will be empowered to transform them.

I will accept the things I cannot change.

And, I will let go, where needed.

Namaste.

Life's Callings

Do you ever have one of those moments where you realize "this is it!". Not like in the bad way where you step in a fresh pile of dog poo on fifth avenue on your way to work and you're convinced the world is desperately trying to tell you to "just.    give.    up."

But one of those moments where the world actually stops spinning.

All of the masses of human beings speed walking through new york city become a blur and you feel invincible.

Some causes of this may include, but are not limited to:

• a random lady helping you gather your belongings for you on the subway after you are returning from a long weekend and headed back to the office
• the site of children running and laughing through the sprinklers at the park
• a heartfelt wink from a friend you had not connected with in a long time
• the end of savasana at yoga practice

It is moments like these that I truly believe the Universe is telling me something (I capitalize Universe because I respect it that much).

I had one of these moments when I was a freshmen in college and sitting in my Anthropology class and our Peace Corps recruiter came in and gave a presentation about her service. No words can describe the immediate feeling of "this is it" that I felt that afternoon. 

I knew that I was meant to be a Peace Corps volunteer. And I did it. And everyday was exactly as I imagined. And I am still living that experience. And I am so very proud of it.

It was so, authentically me. And it felt. so.   good.

Even the days when I stepped in poo, and I mean a lot of poo. I still loved it. That's the thing about doing the things you love. Doing the things that are true to you. The challenges don't matter at the end of the day. All the poo in the world doesn't make you give up on your passion.

Have you had a calling?

Do you know your purpose here on earth?

Do you at least think about it?

Or do you push it out of your mind the second it starts to creep in and you go and get comfy under the covers?

...I find myself doing that sometimes now...

That is when I remember something so very intelligent I heard awhile ago.

"Find the things you love. And do more of it."

So, I go to a lot of yoga classes-- because if you focus too much on your "life calling", the "big picture" it can be a little overwhelming. I may not be able to pull the covers down and create world peace, but I can pull them down and see the world more peacefully.

I can create a more peaceful body. I can create a more peaceful mind. And in that way, I don't need to create world peace. I walk it. 

I meditate. 

I run. 

I write in a gratitude journal.

I look at the water.

I walk barefoot...I feel the sand beneath my toes (not just walk mechanically on the beach, but feel the grains). I let the pain of the pebbly concrete awaken those pressure points that so rarely get poked.

I collect journals ...and carry all 7 of them painfully back and forth between the office and the apartment.

I read.

I play volleyball.

I laugh. I love. I cry. I think. I rest. I examine. I let go.

Because these are the things I love. And when I start to get overwhelmed about "my purpose in life", I realize that doing these simple things makes my purpose clear. It gives me faith.

Last night I went to the Gospel of Sweat, an amazing talk that was held at Riverside church and hosted by LuluLemon and inspired by my yogi-ism.

I listened to very powerful women (and some men), but very powerful women (I'm sorry but us women are powerful) talk about their meaning in life.

Suzanne sang in a beautiful tone with breathtaking lyrics that made all the little hairs on your arm stand up. Jeff touched the room with his love story. Schuyler genuinely had us laughing. Melanie inspired us as a successful mother, business-woman and cancer survivor (the same cancer my sister Danielle had as a child- Non Hodgkins Lymphoma). Gabrielle impressed us with her own survivor story that so many of us can relate to. 

Be what you need. 

It's time to share your story.

Find the soul in you and how it connects to the universe.

These are things they expressed in their stories. 

Don't deprive the world of the gifts you have been given. 

Because there is not one of us that has not been given a gift. And, oh what a shame to see things as the poo-y "this is it" and not the blissful awakening "this is it"...

I have fallen in love with NY again...for many reasons. But you know what has been SO awesome this summer? Meeting so many people who have not deprived the world of their gifts. Artists. Photographers. Entrepreneurs. Businessmen. Musicians. Cooks. Cleaners. Dog-walkers. People who have looked me in the eyes with that Peace-Corps-authencitiy I had, and smiled. 

Proud of their jobs, not because society told them to be. But because they were.

What makes life rich? How do you want to live? How are you inspired? How can YOU inspire?

Oh how very sweet and beautiful the world can be, if we let it. 

Someone just said to me moments ago, "you won't remember how many hours you spent in the office. But your stories you will have for a lifetime."

So let's create some stories people. It doesn't matter where you do it (heck, it CAN be in the office). It's not about the who, or the what or the where. Its the why you are doing something. It's about "being you". Do things you love. Stories are created by sharing experiences. 

There's a lot I don't remember about my life- my GPA, how much the flight cost to Vietnam, where I left all those clothes I had before Peace Corps.

But I remember the sweat I felt dripping down my forehead as I raced uphill alongside cancer survivors during my first triathlon. I remember the feeling of Karyme's chubby arms around my neck, and the way Lili's face changed into a beaming smile as I walked up to her house in El Salvador. I remember losing my breath as I jumped off that tall waterfall and I remember struggling to find it as I parachuted out of an airplane. I remember the nights of pouring rain banging on my roof in ES, where I could hear nothing but my own solitude- I remember crying alone in my barren house, praying for the night to be over...and it was, and you know what, it wasn't so bad the next day! I remember what the cold snow feels like on my nose when I play outside with my little sisters. I remember the laughter as I clung to the back of my older sister riding a motorcycle around Sapa Valley, Vietnam. 

Create moments.

Find things you love- and do more of them! Smile. Be. 

You'll be so amazed at what happens next.

I Am Buddha

I wasn't planning on blogging today. And then something so weird happened, that I just began to write.

Let me warn you ahead of time, many of you will laugh at this. If not a full-blown "HA", you will definitely be smirking. And if you don't smirk, you will close this page before you finish reading.

However, if you have just the least bit of curiosity, I applaud your faith.

I usually meditate outside. Nature is calming and nature is my inspiration.

Today, however, I did it in my bedroom. There I was, sitting cross-legged upon my blue carpeted floor. I was headphone-d into my laptop, as I listened to a guided meditation. I had my eyelids resting peacefully upon my bottom lashes, head balanced perfected above my spine, sitting tall upon my sitting bones. I was deeply focused on the mantra "I am open to love."

As I repeated this phrase silently in my mind, I time travelled back to a former guided meditation. During this prior experience, I was guided to look across at me at a person whom loved me, supported me and in whom I could trust. I found myself envisioning myself as a younger Jaime. For some reason, I saw a smiling high-school Jaime, about 16 years old. I was wearing a white t-shirt, my hair down and I was just smiling a carefree smile. I wasn't worried about the future. I wasn't immature. I wasn't taking life seriously. I was confident. I was smiling a smile that said "what is the matter? you have nothing to worry about. I am here, and you can trust in me, and it all works out."

I continued with today's meditation. "I am open to love." My mind began to wander, but I came back to this mantra. I listened to my breathing and I focussed my awareness on my heart. I envisioned it swelling with love. My heart became so large in my chest and I was fully aware of it beating.

My eyes had been closed gently for quite awhile now, when they gradually cracked open and I caught a glimpse of my computer screen.

Expecting to see the Guided Meditation Page, I was terrified in awe at what I saw instead.

It was me for a second, and then I quickly morphed into Buddha.

My computer screen had gone black, and in my dimly lit room, I could easily see my reflection, as if it were a mirror. I had my hair tied up in a bun (coincidentally) that was wrapped loosely and sitting on top of my head in an all too familiar hair-do. My eyes were only slightly parted and my mouth wore an almost non-existent, yet very apparent, smile.

I'm not sure if I was dizzy from the meditation or drunk with love, but it was impossible to deny that I resembled his truly, Buddha.

It's so very silly... yet so very simple.


Where is the light? Where is God? Where is Buddha? Where is love? Where is your soul? Where is whatever it is that you believe in?

It is in you.
          It is all around you.
                      It is everywhere.

It is You.

You just have to awaken it.

So very simple...

But I bet most of us forget to do it!

How to look at it a little more practical? Here are some ways I know the light is there in the Universe:

-the smell of the salty sea and the feeling of the crisp breeze on my face as I sit on the beach looking out at the ocean

-laughing at the top of my lungs, as I connect squinting eyes with my best friends, my stomach aching shortly after in welcomed pain

-dancing with Latin music running through my veins, with not a clue as to how to dance salsa, but not a care in the world as to how I look doing it

-running down the sidewalk, music blaring in my ears, feeling the power in my legs as I watch my feet move one in front of the other in perfect rhythm

-the feeling of bliss singing at the top of my lungs alone in my house in El Salvador when its pounding rain on my tin roof

-the peace of mind that comes during and after a beautiful meditation

Weed (s)

I over-meditate. 

I still have no official job (although, I now have an offer), but I do work a solid 10 hours a day, regardless.

Let me define work (in my terms): n. anything that contributes to the advancement of my commitments in life.   ex. At work today I sat on my ass and explored the different realms of the universe.

I’m joking, but don’t laugh. 

Depending on how you sit, it may be the best investment of your life. Practicing meditation routinely has been the greatest work I have done in a long time. 

As I continue the journey of a Returned Peace Corps Volunteer, I have been blessed to have felt some amazing transformations. 

#1 being, I love who I am and where I am today. 

= a benefit of over-meditation.

What do I mean by this? Well, over the average 10 hours a day I work, 4 of them are dedicated to meditation or activities of spirituality. Some examples are, but not limited to, guided meditation in the mornings, unguided meditation by the river or in nature, reading Paulo Coelho, watching Deepak Chopra’s you-tube clips, yoga & stretch, running, and reflection.

One particular day last week, I was at Rockwood Park sitting by the river with my little sister, Amanda. We had just finished a game of catch and were ready to plop down next to our already exhausted dog under the shade of a weeping willow tree. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind me taking 30 minutes to do some meditation.

Before I got started, we sat down and Amanda pointed out a thick weed that was growing in front of us. “Look at all of it’s thorns” she said and I looked in agreement at the spiky plant the world had planted before us.

It was then that I meditated on weeds...(not weed, although I suppose that would also reveal similar outer-being experiences). However, I prefer to get high with a little help from my friends, Deepak & Rumi. 

Anyway, I think it’s safe to say that most people’s general reaction to weeds is:

Bad.

Ugly.

Remove.

But take a minute and step back. Reflect. 

Call me Buddha, but a weed has a soul.  Maybe, being born as human beings, we have a bigger purpose in life. But, weeds, too, have a soul; a reason for being; a little purpose in life- to survive, to grow, even to proliferate. Sure, they have spiky thorns, as Amanda pointed out...

But don’t we, as human beings, as well?

Who are we? We are us. We are, who we are. Well, wait a minute... who do you think you are? Are you conscious of that? Because what I have realized, is that sometimes we are not sure. Or sometimes we forget. Or sometimes, we forget to look. 

A lot of the time, society tells us who we are. We grow thorns and we forget about our soul. Overtime, we have been conditioned by society...by external factors...usually, subconsciously.

Our parents tell us, “we need an education”...go to the best University, right after high school, study business- so we invest $40,000 in the system.

Society tells us, “we need a job”...to have insurance, to save- so we lock ourselves in cubicle-cages.

Bars tell us “you’ll have a good time”...to drink, relax, & have fun- so we go out, we drunk text & then lose our cell phone. 

And you know what? There’s nothing wrong with that.

*Those are our thorns coming out*

...our protection/our safety & security

...our coping mechanisms. 

But, what is important, is that we remember who we are at heart.

Behind all this, 

Who are we?

Why are we here?

What are our commitments in life?

It is important to remember to be conscious about that. Don’t become a thorny, prickly mess, without remembering your soul.

Meditate - on weeds.

...not on weed.

The Happiness Formula

The following is a traditional short story found in "One Hundred Wisdom Stories From Around the World" by Margaret Silf.

There was once a good and sincere man who was searching for the way to happiness, searching for the way to truth. One day, he went to seek out a wise old man who, so he had been assured, would be able to show him the way he was searching for. 

The wise old man received him warmly, as he sat at the door of his tent. After serving the seeker a glass of mint tea, the wise old man readily revealed the secret of the route to happiness and truth.

'It's a long way from here, to be sure,' he said. 'But you can't miss it. You will come to a village that I will describe to you, and right at the heart of that village, you will find three little shops. There, the secret of happiness and of truth will be revealed to you.'

It was indeed a very long way. The seeker passed along many valleys and across many rivers. Eventually, he arrived at the village, where his heart told him, 'This is the place. Yes, this is the place you are seeing.'

And sure enough, there in the heart of the village were three little shops. But when he went inside them the seeker was deeply disappointed. In the first shop, all he found were some reels of wire. In the second, there was nothing more exciting than a few pieces of wood. And in the third, there was just some roughly shaped metal.

Weary and discouraged, he left the village again, and found a resting place for the night in a little clearing not too far away. Night fell. The full moon filled the clearing with a gentle glow. And just as he was on the point of falling asleep, the searcher heard a sublime melody coming form the direction of the village. What magical instrument could be giving rise to such perfect harmony?

Quickly, he rose to his feet and walked towards where he thought the musician must be. And there, to his amazement, he discovered that the celestial music was coming from a man playing a zither. And the zither, he could plainly see, had been made from the wire, the wood and the metal pieces he had so despised earlier in the day when he had seen them for sale in the three little shops in the village.

At that moment, he understood that happiness is the union of everything that has already been given to us.

O sea (spanglish), 'if life gives you lemons, make lemonade'. 

....But I'm guessing most of us just let those lemons rot, huh? Try having a fresh glass :)

...no sugar.