Forgive Me

Forgive me if I am not excited. If I don't cry tears of joy upon touching down in the US.  Forgive me while my heart heals, be patient while my heart mends or while my heart figures out where it is supposed to be.

At this moment, I am achy and running a fever. I am not sure if I am genuinely sick or if the hours of heated room yoga, and all natural food is finally sending my body into intensive detox. I have now been getting sick for the last twenty four hours, which only cultivates my heart ache and intensifies the pains that I feel. Although they are emotional it is as though it is a physical heart ache, like someone ripped my heart out of my chest.

I am here in Costa Rica, at a beautiful resort. A place many would dream to come too. To be certified to teach yoga. Many of the women here have waited for this time for years. Many have left their homes and their children for four weeks of bliss. Of living amongst the rain forest, of spa treatments, and yoga teachings. Of living amongst other people who desire to learn about their bodies and the practice of yoga. Of learning how to cleanse the system (it must be working on me) and strengthen their bodies. 

One woman, of sixty three years of age has one of the most beautiful yoga practices I have ever seen. She flows in and out of positions, pulls herself up and demonstrates her balance better than anyone in the room. So incredible.

So please do not be confused that I have not bared witness to all of these things. Or that I have become a recluse in my room not joining in with others. Because I am here. I have not left. But in many ways my heart and mind seize to be here. 

While eating lunch one woman asked if I had been traveling for the last year? Trying to gather my reply, my eyes welled up with tears and I muttered, “I taught second grade for the last year.” And then I began to cry. I apologized and said its OK you can take a moment. I took a moment which only led me to imagine myself in my classroom, standing up front of my kids, begging them to get quiet, but secretly laughing as one of them is dancing in-between the desks. While living in the past, I then only cried harder. I apologized to her again.

Being completely frank with her I said, ”I don't know whats wrong with me? This place is incredible. Its beautiful. The food, the people, the teachings but this is the very last place I want to be. I don't feel like I belong. It feels really selfish to say of me but its the truth.”

She kindly replied that she understood. She understood that it was a difficult transition and that it will probably take a while..... I said I know (I do). But that its just......its just.

So yes I am sorry in advance if I am not counting down the days to see you, or to step in line at Starbucks, or at the bank, or to drive my car. Forgive me if I put toilet paper in the trash can and do not flush it down the toilet. Forgive me if I am short with you while you complain about your life. Or if I shed many a tears at random moments of the day. Or if I talk about my class (way too much). Because right now my heart is beating in every bit of Honduras......

And there is still no place I would rather be.....