What happens when our freedom to choose is denied?

03 Apr 2020 3 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, caronavirus, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

Trauma.

When I was five we moved from our farm to a town of 8,000 people thirty miles away. A year later I awoke to strange voices in the house. Mother was rushed to the hospital where she hovered near death for weeks. She didn’t die but her recovery took years.

As an adult I’ve had multiple marriages and an equal number of divorces. I’ve moved over forty times. But I would never have told you I was a victim of trauma. In my mind, trauma was for the physically abused or war damaged.

I was in my fifties before I read Waking the Tiger, by Peter Levine, and realized the negative patterns that kept repeating for me were trauma-based. I’d adopted those behaviors as survival mechanisms, but in fact they were creating more trauma.

I sought therapy from a brilliant practitioner, Thea Lee. About the same time I began a personal yoga practice that has kept me centered and sane through whatever circumstances have come my way.

We have a situation world-wide that is wreaking havoc on our nervous systems. “The scale of this outbreak as a traumatic event is almost beyond comprehension,” said one expert in an article published a week ago by CNBC. I would encourage you to read it.

I keep hearing the words, unprecedented, pandemic, apocalyptic to describe the chaos the entire world is experiencing. In conversations with friends and family there are other words: tough, depressing, grinding, boring, stir-crazy, frightening.

Right now I depend more than ever on my daily yoga habit. It works like nothing else to ground me in the morning and enables me to stay present with the reality of the moment rather than spiraling into the what-ifs that lead to fear and panic.

I’d like to make you aware of an opportunity coming up if you want to add yoga to your bag of survival tricks.

In 2013, my daughter, Jessa Walters, was hired by the University of Minnesota to teach trauma sensitive yoga. She’ll be doing a 75 minute session online.

Jessa Walters MA, E-RYT, TCTSY-F

Here’s what she says about the need for a practice that counteracts the effects of trauma on our body.

“A common dynamic in overwhelming/traumatic experience is the feeling that we have no choice in what is happening. David Emerson. founder of Trauma-Sensitive Yoga, defines trauma as an extreme lack of choice. My whole organism wanted one thing to happen and the other thing happened.

“Experiencing an embodied opportunity (in this case, through yoga) to make choices moment by moment can be a way to counter the impact of the choice-less nature of overwhelming/traumatic experience.

“If you’d like, please join me for a 75 minute Trauma-Sensitive Yoga session over Zoom this Saturday, April 4 @ 5pm Pacific Time (or Sunday 8am in Bali).

“This yoga practice will be slow-paced. All are welcome.

“TO JOIN THE ZOOM SESSION:
To join the Zoom session, you will need to have Zoom downloaded (free) on your phone, ipad or computer. Click on “Join” and enter the meeting ID: 545 061 526. Or click on this link:

https://us04web.zoom.us/j/545061526

“Donations for the yoga class are accepted via Venmo (Jessa Walters) or PayPal (paypal.me/jessawalters). Thank you.”

Just FYI – I downloaded ZOOM this morning. It was quick and painless.

For me, yoga works like a mood-altering drug. If I wake up agitated, anxious, distracted, fretful, I’ll ALWAYS try to talk myself out of getting on the mat.

I’m too tired.

I’ll do it tomorrow – twice.

I’ll walk later instead…

Hopefully while this stupid mind-game is in process, I’m pulling on my leggings and sports bra because once I’m dressed for the practice I’ll do it.

It takes about one-and-a-half sun salutes for a major mental shift to take place. By the time I’m finished I’m an entirely different person, supercharged, happy, and ready to take on the challenges of the day.

If you already practice yoga, you may be curious to see how the trauma-sensitive approach differs. If you’re new to the game, this is the perfect opportunity to begin in the non-threatening, non-competitive privacy of your own home.

If someone in your circles would benefit, please feel free to pass along Jessa’s information.

Meanwhile, watch clouds, count birds, and let your mind/body slow…slow… slow down.

Do you agree with this quote?

“Changing is what people do when they have no options left.”
― Holly Black, Red Glove

Day 1 of the ‘New Normal’

02 Apr 2020 8 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , ,

Around eleven a.m. yesterday I heard the familiar laugh. Ketut came up the path lugging twice his weight in potatoes and squash. I slipped on my flipflops and hurried to help.

I’d photographed the grocery list the day before and WhatsApped it to him.


In five minutes I’d had his response.

“Ok.”

There’s a trait I’ve found that generally holds true. A man of action is a man of few words. Ketut’s no exception.

I knew he was familiar with most everything on the list, but the mei nasi vermicelli (which I spelled wrong) might have been a mystery so I added a photo.

A little later he sent this picture and told me he and his youngest, Komang, were stealing broccoli for me from his in-law’s garden.

As it turned out, it was both broccoli and cauliflower, perfectly formed bouquets.

After several trips back and forth to empty the minivan, I saw what my list looked like in real life. Food overflowed the bags on the table and the floor around it. We took inventory. There was one bunch of mystery leaves mixed in with the spinach.

“What’s this, Ketut? Not bayam.”

“Daun ketela. Like Padang food. Bayam in market finished.”

So the traditional market had sold out of spinach and Ketut had improvised. Good man.

I love Padang food, the cuisine of West Sumatra. I’d never cooked cassava leaves, but if that was the unique flavor in Sumatran veggie dishes, I was excited.

After Ketut demonstrated how to light the water heater and change the gas bottle…

after he asked for the umpteeth time if I was sure I wanted him to stay away for a month…

after he suggested he could come in the back way and work on making a new garden behind the house and I wouldn’t even know he was there…

I assured him again that a) he was due a good long paid vacation for all his years of faithful help, and b) if he even stopped for gas somewhere he might take the virus home to his village.

“Okay. But if any problem, you call me.”

I promised I would.

After separating the bounty with my downstairs neighbor, I Googled cassava leaf recipes. The easiest one had onion, tomato, and peanuts. I had those ingredients. Instructions said to chop everything, brown the onion, stir in tomatoes and leaves and cook for 30 minutes adding water when needed. Peanuts last.

While watching the water level on the simmering pot, I steamed broccoli, boiled eggs, and prepared dragon fruit for the freezer. It was four o’clock when all was completed and I realized I hadn’t had lunch. The experimental dish was tasty but daun ketela will probably never appear on my future grocery lists.

This morning I woke to Day One of the ‘New Normal.’ I’d been anticipating this, longing for the opportunity to fall into a routine, gain some modicum of control over my life. As I stared at the morning face in the mirror, I was transported back to my first full day in Italy. A storm raged, churning the ocean to white froth. Wind battered the shutters and rain pinged against the windows. I remembered thinking…thirty-two more days…

Of course the rain stopped and I had a fabulous time.

I found myself wishing I knew if this would be thirty-two days, or sixty, or a year. I suddenly missed my family, my grandchildren. I let sadness come, sobbing through yoga, tears dampening my meditation pillow. I hadn’t allowed grief. I’d been distracted by doing what needed to be done. And then, when there was nothing more to do, I’d spun out of the present and lost myself in an unknowable future.

Catherynne Valente said, Do not ruin today by mourning tomorrow.”

Like a cloud passing over the sun, sadness dissipated. The cathartic energy of sorrow left me feeling cleansed and strong once more. I moved back into the now with renewed resolve to stay there.

Do you notice when you’re spinning into the future? Perhaps you could tell yourself, “This is my body now. There is nothing to fear in this moment.”

Greetings Fellow Dystopians

31 Mar 2020 7 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

I don’t recognize this new world we’ve awakened to.

Yesterday Ketut went home to spend two days with his family. This morning I got word that the island is preparing to lock down. Stock up, was the warning.

I’d already placed a big order with Indimete – it was delivered today.

I messaged Ketut a grocery list and requested enough fruits and veggies to last a month. It seemed safer for him to shop in his village and avoid the masses that flood Ubud market. After he brings my food supply tomorrow, I’ll send him back to his family to shelter in place for the rest of April.

Then my doors will close and I’ll hunker in.

Fortunately for me, a like-minded friend moved in downstairs this week. There’s a great deal of comfort having another virus-free human to interact with. I know myself well enough to realize I can do ‘alone’ if I must. The mental equipment for solitary survival is in place. But it would be harder. Much harder.

I don’t discount the connections I make with people who respond to my writing. They’re heartwarming. During my thirty-three-day ‘silent retreat’ in Italy (silent only because I didn’t speak the language) social media was my saving grace. But there’s nothing like a living, breathing, flesh-and-blood friend who recognizes the deer-in-headlights stare and pours a glass of wine!

A line in a book I’ve been reading, Cloud Atlas, by David Mitchell, struck me as having significance for the current situation. (A writer friend, Steve Castley, would tell me I need a transition between this paragraph and the one before, and he’s right. I beg forgiveness.) Here’s that inspirational line:

An abyss cannot be crossed in two steps.

It’s like my grocery order. I’m sure Ketut was surprised to get a Whatsapp list of twenty-six items in large quantities when my usual request is four in small amounts. And he was probably even more shocked to hear he gets a month’s paid vacation. But the time for hesitation has passed. I heeded the warning and leaped the abyss.

Too many leaders are doing the two-step maneuver with deadly results. Don’t take your cues from them. Be proactive with your own health and that of your family. This disease waits for no one.

Food for thought: Perhaps reflect on a time in the past when you’ve tried to cross the abyss in two steps. Then make a commitment to leap from now on.

Self-isolating in Bali

30 Mar 2020 29 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

I live a charmed life. But I have to admit that last week in Italy was challenging. I wondered if my flight would be cancelled, or if I’d be denied entry into Indonesia – the country was closing its borders – or if I’d get too close to someone en-route who was already infected and…

None of the above happened. I arrived home to the humid, chewable air, the familiar scents, sounds, and sights, and went immediately into self-quarantine. It was easy to stay home, I was jet-lagged after all. I ate, slept, and read the news…and read the news…and read the news…

Fourteen days later when I ventured into the streets of Ubud it was hard to believe the world was in the grips of a raging pandemic. Tourists clustered in cafes. Locals sat in groups chatting. Drivers touted taxi services and practitioners offered massages to all who passed. Didn’t they know? Was nobody taking the threat of this rapidly spreading disease seriously?

I went home and didn’t emerge again.

Then the wild Ogoh-Ogoh parade that ushers in the Balinese new year was cancelled and the traditional Day of Silence that follows was increased to two days. March 25th and 26th people were not allowed out of their homes. Police and regional security guards patrolled the streets to ensure there were no trespassers.

Following those days of absolute lockdown, the governor of Bali instructed residents to remain at home as much as possible, study at home, work from home, and only go out for groceries or emergencies. Authorities explained social distancing, an utterly foreign idea in this communal culture, and urged compliance.

Immigration posted a notice there would be no more visas issued in Indonesia. Anyone wishing to travel here must procure documents from the Indonesian Consulate in their own country with an attached certificate of good health. In the space of three days, the complexion of the island did an about-face.

Today the entire world shares a common crisis. If ever there was a chance to unify, this is it. At the community level, people are pulling together to help, often at immense personal risk. I’ve had many messages from friends, Do you need anything? Are you managing okay?

As days go by with no end in sight I find ways to busy myself. Then I came across a quote by the Dalai Lama that made me think:

The way through sadness and grief that comes from great loss is to use it as motivation and to generate a deeper sense of purpose.

The deaths of so many are a great loss. The restriction of freedom to move about is a great loss. The disappearance of jobs, of savings, of the fragile security that tomorrow will be a mirror of today, are great losses to name a few. How do I use sadness and grief as motivation? What can I do while confined in my home to generate a deeper sense of purpose?

In Italy I managed to write a post almost every day while exploring the length and breadth (and height!) of Praiano. When I stopped there were people who told me they missed reading about my adventures over their morning coffee. That was even before we were confined to our houses. Perhaps my deeper purpose is to continue entertaining my readers, to offer a moment’s distraction to laugh, or to ponder a different perspective.

I’ve found it difficult to write. It seems there’s so much content pouring forth – something for everyone – what could I possibly add? The answer that came was so obvious I hadn’t seen it. You do what you’ve always done. Tell the stories, your experience of these unprecedented times, your self-discovery. That alone is unique. It doesn’t matter if nobody cares. You do it for you.

So I’ll do just that, with huge gratitude for the internet that still connects us.

Question to ponder:

Is it possible for you to use this time of sadness and grief as motivation to discover a deeper purpose for your life?

How to maintain mental balance in the face of fear

10 Mar 2020 4 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

After being sucked down the ever-deepening black hole of today’s news, I decided to look for something happier. It didn’t take long to find Sunny Skyz, an online media source with the tagline, Live. Laugh. Love. I scrolled past one happy tear-jerker after another unsure of what exactly I was looking for until this title grabbed me.

Stolen Therapy Goat Found, Reunited With Depressed Cow

I laughed out loud.

It’s about maintaining balance. Too much of anything tips me over. I don’t mind being toppled by an excess of joy, but when warning bells in my head signal an overabundance of darkness, it’s time to change course.

In my late fifties I had a teacher. Three times a month for fourteen months I sat with a group of six others to learn from this woman. I’ve never run into anyone else who talked about the things she did, or used the words she used. Every week she blew my mind.

As the world goes dark I remember her teaching on valences. A valence, in chemistry, is the power an element or atom has to combine and form molecules. She used the word to refer to the power of energy to attract like energy and our need to be aware of the affect that has on us.

She talked about valences over countries – collective energy from the thoughts, attitudes, and behaviors of the people and politics of a nation. The more powerful that energy becomes, whether positive or negative, the more deeply it impacts those living beneath it. It takes determination and a strong will to remain on an even keel when the overarching force is dark.

Her warning was for a country.

With the vast tentacles of the internet broadcasting doom on a daily basis, our entire world is blanketed in death-energy. The uncertainty of not knowing when or how this epidemic will end, doesn’t bode well for staying centered. It can send our thoughts spiraling into overwhelm and leave us feeling anxious, panicky, worried and afraid.

Those of us who are natural optimists fare better in times like these. We usually know what it takes to maintain a healthy state of mind when faced with difficult times. But even those blessed with eternal sunshine in their souls may be struggling with this one.

I’m grateful for having spent those months with my guru. She didn’t stop with the explanation of valences, she taught us how to work with them, physically and mentally. She showed us how taking just a few minutes to ground our bodies can make all the difference in how we deal with stress.

To ground energy, place both feet flat on the floor, take a deep breath and say your name out loud. You can do that anywhere. It takes about three seconds.

A three-minute grounding meditation can help you relax and bring your focus back into balance. I hear you groaning. Try it! It’s only three minutes.

Set a timer. Then…

  • Pause, take a deep breath and place your bare feet flat on the floor. (Wear stockings if the floor is cold!) Wiggle your toes. FEEL your feet in contact with the ground beneath them
  • Place your hands on your stomach. Take 3 breaths as deep as you can. Feel your stomach rise and fall with each breath.
  • When you’re ready, close your eyes.
  • Breathe deeply into your stomach while counting slowly to 5. Hold your breath for another count of 5. Breathe out while slowly counting to 5. Continue breathing in for 5, hold for 5, out for 5 until the timer buzzes.
  • With eyes still closed, notice how your body feels starting with y.our feet and working your way up your legs torso and arms, to your head. Really pay attention to how your body feels. Slowly open your eyes.

These are simple techniques to do on your own. They can be life-savers when time is short.

But…

If you have ten minutes and want to go to war with the valences, I challenge you to The Warriors Path Grounding Meditation. I love this one, but it’s not for the faint-hearted! You’ll see what I mean.

Image result for warriors path grounding images

When I’m grounded it’s easier to detach from the stories, turn off the news, and take care of myself.

Whether it’s Sunny Skyz and therapy-goat stories, or my guru’s guide to grounding, I hope this post has provided a respite from the daily grind of negative news. Better yet, I hope you’ll find these tools help you de-stress and maintain your mental balance.

Travel surprises in a COVID-19 world

08 Mar 2020 12 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, Holidays, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , ,

Travel is stressful under the best circumstances. But add a global health crisis to the mix and intensity escalates.

Packed and ready for the long journey home.

Even though I couldn’t have been more isolated if I’d stayed in a monastery in Mongolia, the fact that I’d just spent a month in Praiano was like having ITALY tattooed on my forehead. I felt vulnerable.

So I was surprised to find how absent any mention of the caronavirus was in airports and on planes. If a person hadn’t read the news there would be little indication that anything was amiss with the world. No one employed by the airline industry wore a mask. Everyone was exceptionally engaging, smiley, and helpful.

On both flights seatmates offered me sterile wipes and we all dutifully wiped down our tray tables, movie screens, armrests, safety belts, etc. Convinced we’d disinfected our surroundings, we plugged in earphones and tuned each other out.

Usually I’m a serial movie-watcher on long flights. After the sanitizing ritual I selected Ford vs. Ferrari with Matt Damon and Christian Bale. I loved every minute of it, Then fell asleep and didn’t stir for seven hours.

That was a first. I’ve never been able to sleep on a plane. It was my shortest 12-hour flight to date.

The layover in Singapore was just long enough to stretch, check in with WhatsApp and Messenger, take my bags through security and board for the final leg. Nobody mentioned the C-word.

Once in the air, flight attendants distributed a yellow slip of paper from the Indonesian Ministry of Health. Anxiety prickled in my chest, what questions would it ask that I didn’t want to answer? The form was as basic as it could get: name, flight number, passport number… At the end were two boxes with this inscription: Is your present condition sick or healthy, check one.

Efficient. Maybe not terribly effective at detecting illness, but definitely efficient.

Upon landing in Bali, I joined all incoming passengers in line with our yellow forms. Here I assumed my temperature would be taken and they’d ask where I’d come from. As I approached the end I couldn’t see any of that happening. Then it was my turn. A person with a mask exchanged my declaration of ‘healthy’ for another slip of paper, also yellow, with COVID-19 stamped in bold block letters. In small print it said to keep this in my passport and if I got sick to contact the nearest health facility immediately and bring along this card.

That was it.

I proceeded through immigration, no questions asked, handed in my ‘nothing to declare’ form in the customs line, and sailed out into the chewable night air.

I breathed in the moist, incense-laden, warmth of Bali and tension left my body. The long journey was over. Ketut was at the airport to meet me with a bottle of water and his 2000 watt smile.

I’m home.

Thank you all for coming along on my 70th birthday adventure. You’ve been great travel companions and have made my experience even more enjoyable by sharing it with me!

You have old skin? Wear a shawl!

06 Mar 2020 18 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, Holidays, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , , ,

I thought yesterday would be my last post from Praiano. I’m sorry. There’s too much magic. I have one more story to tell.

Three days ago I stopped at Centro Market for this and that and who did I run into but Felicia. You may remember her from the Cooking in Italy post. We greeted each other like long lost sisters and I caught one word: coffee. I frantically sought help but no one spoke English. What about coffee?

I apologized. By now you probably know my one Italian sentence as well as I do: Mi dispiace, non parlo Italiano! She left and I continued browsing.

A few minutes later I heard, “Sherry! Sherry!” Felicia was back. She handed me a bag with a bowl of something warm inside and made eating motions. I scolded her and thanked her, then rushed home to see what she’d given me.

I pried the lid off. Water spinach. I’d know that veggie anywhere. Along with it, potatoes and ribs. Felicia had evidently run to her house, scooped up a bowl of her dinner, then returned to deliver it while I was still in the store.

I’ve eaten a lot of water spinach in Bali and I can’t say it’s the most exciting dish. But the flavors in Felicia’s combo woke up my mouth. Olive oil, lemon – what else? How could water spinach taste so good? I polished off the meal with gusto but the coffee question plagued me.

I texted Nicola, told him I’d run into Felicia and she’d said something about coffee but I hadn’t understood what she wanted. He explained it’s customary when you meet a friend you invite them in for coffee.

“You mean immediately, like right then?”

“Yes.”

Oh, darn. I’d blown that opportunity.

But there was still Felicia’s bowl. My mother taught me never to return a dish empty. Oh, Mom! Your words still ring in my ears after all these years. I had to return the bowl filled with something and time was getting short.

Felicia’s house is about ten steps from Centro Market. I’d noticed the market had a kilo (2.2 pounds) of Himalayan pink salt for $3 U.S. That’s much cheaper than what I pay in Bali. I wanted it and a box of goji berry tea. It was my last day in Praiano. I could kill two birds with one stone.

With the translation app’s help, I wrote a note in Italian telling Felicia how my mother taught me never to return a dish empty. Then I heated a pot of kale/carrot/sausage/lentil stew and spooned it into Felicia’s bowl. I’d stop at the market first, pick up my tea and salt, then I’d drop the bowl off at Felicia’s.

As I entered Centro Market, there was Felicia chatting with the owners. After a boisterous greeting I took the bag out of my purse and handed it to her. At first she said No! No! Then she read the note and laughed.

Another volley of Italian and – there it was again – coffee. This time I was ready.

“I don’t want to disturb…”

“Non disturbare! Non disturbare!”

I left with Felicia. As soon as we were seated at her kitchen table with steaming cups and tiny anise cookies – because you never JUST have coffee – I whipped out the translate app on my phone and the chatter began.

I was commenting on her fashionable outfit when she stopped me mid-sentence and jumped up. “Un momento,” she said and disappeared. She came back carrying clothing: a spaghetti-strap dress, a filmy red scarf, and a silver camisole.

She talked fast. I thought she was telling me she worked with a resale shop in Positano, that she brought donated clothing home, washed and ironed it so it was cleaned before offered for sale. When she sat expectantly waiting for my response I knew I’d missed something.

“Felicia, per favore.” I handed her the phone. She spoke and I read the translation. Whoops! How could I have been so mistaken?

The clothes were for me.

“But Felicia,” I spoke to the app. “I have old skin! These are beautiful but they show too much!”

She read the Italian and made a very unlady-like sound, grabbed the phone and said: Hai la pelle vecchia? Indossa uno scialle.

I took it from her and read:

You have old skin? Wear a shawl.

I howled with laughter.

There’s a distinct similarity between Italian and Balinese women. They’re both extremely hard-headed and refuse to take no for an answer.

It was time to go but Felicia had one more thing to show me. She rents her house next door to tourists.”Prego! Prego!” she said. Italian spaghetti sauce? No, it means after you, or please, or you’re welcome, or just about whatever you want it to mean! I went in.

She pointed out the new patio garden. Lovely. We toured three bedrooms, two baths, and a large eat-in kitchen. Then she picked up a book and motioned me to the terrace.

For the next twenty minutes Felicia flipped page after page of food images in full-color. Her picture was featured on many of them with her famous recipes. She pointed out her brother’s contributions as well as those of restaurant owners up and down the Amalfi Coast shown with their best aperitivi, antipasti, primi, secondi, insalati, and desserts.

This woman never ceases to amaze me. I could hardly wait to get home and google it. Sure enough Amalfi Coast Recipes is available on Amazon.

There are used copies for sale. They cost just over $20. A new one is $894.94 U.S. dollars. Used is fine. The recipes are in English.

Cookbook under control, I tried on clothes. Felicia wanted photos. I wrapped the scarf around my neck and slipped into the dress. It fit like skin. The cami, too. Surely there’ll be an occasion…?

It’s surreal, like a dream-state. I’ve moved from one unlikely event to the next as though they were pre-planned to happen just so. But they weren’t. Nothing was. What a thrill!

Okay. That’s all. I promise. This really is the last post for a while.

Wish me luck with flights and some interesting travel bans that have just been announced back home. This adventure isn’t over yet.

Whiskey, the singing dog of Praiano

05 Mar 2020 6 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Holidays, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

There’s an unassuming little ceramics shop in Praiano called La Bacheca. I was told it would be open from 10:30 to 1:00 today. And by the way, my friend in Florida texted, they speak English.

At this point in my communication-starved state, that’s all the reason I needed to stop by.

After yesterday’s wind and rain, the warm sun was a welcome companion as I strolled Via Roma through the tunnel to the San Gennaro side of Praiano. It really is like two separate towns. People have asked me, Are you staying on the San Luca side or the San Gennaro side? referring to the two major churches. I’m on the San Luca side.

As usual, I was staring at the ever-changing sea and almost missed the shop across the road. When I twisted the handle to enter nothing happened. I peered through the glass and was about to leave when the door swung wide. Buongiorno, the woman said.

“I’m sorry, are you closed?” No, the shop was open, but it was immediately apparent that this person did not speak English. I made apologies for my lack of language skills with my one Italian sentence, Mi dispiace non parlo Italiano, and stepped inside to drool over the merchandise.

I’d made two full circuits of the store and collected a small pile of must-have items on the counter when a gorgeous young woman walked in. Buongiorno, she said. A minute later the door opened again and a second beauty entered. There was a flurry of Italian, then their attention turned to me. They both spoke beautiful English.

The questions began. Where was I from? How long had I been in Praiano? Where was I staying? When it was my turn I found out that Carmela and Lucia were sisters and the woman who had let me into the shop was their mother, Anna. By this time a bottle of limoncello had come out of the back room and a shot was poured.

“Mmm, delicious,” I purred.

“It’s made here in Praiano. Have you been to the factory?” I had not. “Do you like Bailey’s?” Strange question, I thought. Limoncello was nothing like Baileys.

“I do, yes.”

“Then you must try this.” Another bottle appeared. It’s contents had a greenish tinge. “Creme di Pistacchio,” she said. “It tastes like Bailey’s.” She poured. She was right – like Bailey’s but a thousand times better.

“Carmella, it’s a good thing I didn’t know about this a month ago!”

“Here,” she tilted the bottle toward my cup. “Have some more.”

I laughed and told her no thank you, that I’d be too drunk to walk home. That’s when she offered to have her father give me a ride. How do you not fall in love with these people?

I was able to convince them that I enjoyed walking and needed the exercise. By then my items had been professionally wrapped.

I paid and was about to leave when a little dog walked up and sniffed me. “Oh!” Carmella said. “Whiskey wants to sing Volare for you.” And so Whiskey did.

I’d be hard pressed to choose the highlight of this trip. Amazement has greeted me at every turn. But I’ve never before been served fancy liqueurs in a ceramics shop, nor have I been serenaded by a dog. Thank you, Carmela and Whiskey. Today was very, very special.

*Note: if the video doesn’t work, here’s the link: https://youtu.be/MpAn-TIPxQQ

Five unforgettable lessons from my solo trip to Italy

04 Mar 2020 10 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, Holidays, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , ,

The past month has changed my life. A different creature than the one who flew off to celebrate turning seventy will disembark the plane in Bali. This trip has been as transforming as the one I took at sixty-two when I made the choice to leave Minnesota and set up permanent residence in Indonesia.

The difference has been in the speed and intensity of this mutation. The move to Bali was like slowly opening one cherished gift after another. The island just kept on giving. Praiano must have sensed the time was short. I’ve been zapped by successive lightning bolts of insight that have dazzled and humbled me.

What you’ve seen in my almost-daily posts as I navigated the heights and depths of Praiano, were descriptions in words and pictures. What I haven’t shown are the results of those lightning bolt revelations that have rearranged me from the inside out – the inner odyssey.

Come along…

1) A smile opens doors, but knowing the language gets you inside.

As much as I hate U.S. entitlement and strive not to be that person, I made an ignorant, arrogant assumption. I assumed that most people in the touristy Amalfi Coast area of Italy would speak English. I was wrong. Perhaps during high season it’s different. But right now I may be the only tourist in this small town and it’s a rare joy when I’m understood.

The locals treat me beautifully, but point and gesture is as good as it gets with communication. It’s insanely frustrating. Before I do an extended trip again, I’ll learn the basics of my host country’s language.

2) Always be willing to change what you think you know about yourself.

This is big. If you tell yourself anything long enough, you’ll start believing it. And when you believe it, it becomes your reality and shapes your life. While I’ve been here I’ve experienced seismic shifts in the stories I’ve told myself for years. One catalyst that inspired change was a book that just ‘happened’ to be on the shelf. Another surprising insight came as a result of my daily posts to this blog. A third became clear as I spent significant time alone.

My goal for this trip, other than a septuagenarian celebration, was to gain clarity for the future. That intention provided fertile ground for inspiration and revelation to germinate. I was receptive to receiving and the Universe delivered, as she always does to the willing seeker.

3) It’s essential to tell yourself the truth and then live it.

The truth can be a very confusing idea. But our perception of truth goes hand-in-hand with the stories we tell ourselves. So how do you know if you’re telling yourself the truth? What does your life look like? Is there any area of your existence where you’re miserable, dissatisfied, unhealthy, bitter, angry, or whatever other negative response is possible? Isolate that part then ask, What am I telling myself about this circumstance that’s causing distress? You may believe that what you’ve been telling yourself is true. My guess is that it’s not.

I’ve always been very good at hiding my feelings. I’d do anything to keep the peace. I perceived myself as diplomatic, self-controlled, level-headed, composed, but in truth, confrontation terrified me. Not being liked wasn’t an option. As a result, nobody really knew me and I was okay with that, until now. Turning seventy flipped a switch. All of a sudden, being known feels more important than being liked. Maybe the grumpy old man, crotchety old woman thing is just the point in life when we become real. Look out! I’ve arrived.

4) Expect the unexpected, anything can happen.

When I left for Italy, I didn’t expect that over the course of one month the world would be thrown into a state of panic. That a virus would leap international boundaries and rip through countries with unprecedented ferocity. I personally don’t tend to imagine worst case scenarios. A flight delay, luggage lost – that’s as far as I go with ‘what ifs’. I don’t buy travel insurance. Ever. To me it feels like betting on disasters which as yet, in seventy years, haven’t happened to me. There have been flight delays and my luggage has arrived several days late a few times, but that’s it.

As the numbers of infected persons worldwide continued to rise, and the possibility of restricted air travel became reality for some areas, I entertained the idea of cutting my trip short. I bought into the overarching anxiety for about half a day. Then I caught myself. No. Why should I run scared? I have the funds to extend my stay if that becomes necessary. This began as an adventure and has become an even greater adventure. It’s a huge lesson in flexibility, in trust, in dealing with what comes in a sane and sensible, way. I have a friend battling cancer. That alone puts everything else in perspective.

5) Your mind is your ally only if you can control your thoughts.

I said I bought into anxiety for about half a day. When fear-energy amasses on a global scale, it’s necessary to take an intentional stand against it or it will play games with the mind. I was being sucked into that energy.

I’ve employed several ways of dealing with unwanted emotions that are working effectively for me.

  • Movement is number one. Getting outside for a walk, doing a yoga routine, even sweeping or vacuuming the house helps. Then I meditate.
  • Meditation makes a huge difference. I use a soundtrack in the background and concentrate on the notes, the mantras, the rise and fall of volume, anything other than what’s inside my head. I also focus on gratitude, all the things in this amazing life I’m grateful for.
  • Information gathering, assembling those facts that apply to my situation and screening out the rest is essential to keeping anxiety in check.
  • Distraction may seem like a negative but in the case of monkey-mind, when I can’t seem to stop myself from thinking about something that there’s nothing I can do anything about, it’s necessary to divert attention elsewhere. For me, writing, reading a good book, watching a movie or documentary, researching music I haven’t listened to before, all work well as diversionary tactics. I’m finding that preparing and eating a healthy meal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner is soothing as well. Good nutrition helps regulate moods.
  • Self-talk is ultra important. The story I tell myself must be true or I won’t believe it. I also want it to enable me to continue to enjoy this beautiful town, its kind people, the extraordinary view, and my last few days here. The key is to remain grounded in the present moment and not extrapolate what might happen. In the case of COVID-19, even the experts can’t accurately predict the outcome. So my truth is that in this moment I’m fine. I have empathy for the suffering this epidemic is causing and will continue to cause for an unknown period of time. But I will not contribute to fear.

Nothing excites me more than the boundless potential for human evolution. If we’re open to expanding self-awareness, intuition, compassion, understanding, knowledge, and become active participants in our own growth, there’s no limit to where it can take us. It isn’t always a comfortable ride, and sometimes to get there we have to take ourselves, alone, to parts unknown, so lightning can zap us.

Look what just appeared outside my window! After lightning bolts, a rainbow!

Food Glorious Food Glorious Fooooood!

02 Mar 2020 6 Comments

by writingforselfdiscovery in Bali, Holidays, Poetry, Uncategorized, wisdom, Writing Tags: , , , , , ,

I’ve embraced food-love.

Not just the flavors and nutritional value for my body, but the beauty, the colors and textures, the rugged heartiness or delicate elegance of the visuals (and victuals) on my plate.

I still prefer simplicity. One dish well-prepared delights me far more than a variety. I don’t know why that is – maybe I’m too easily stimulated by flavors. Maybe my palette gets confused and goes into overwhelm.

Whatever the reason, I’m much happier going deep into the complexities of a single entrée than sampling many. A table groaning with selections thrills some. Maybe they’re the true foodies. But for me, in quantities of food and friends, less is more.

Speaking of friends, small-talk, the inane chatter between people who don’t know each other well and may not care to, is painful for me. It’s like those all-you-can-eat buffets where you leave grossly stuffed but haven’t really tasted anything. I’ve taken new acquaintances aback when, after a few minutes of chit-chat I say, “So…tell me about your childhood.” The ones who reply, You first, are friends for life.

Food and friends. The two go hand-in-glove, don’t they? I hadn’t intended to write about friends – they just slipped in. But it makes sense. Sharing the daily repast is probably part of our DNA from the beginning. I don’t think Eve ate Adam’s rib. But she did offer him an apple – which didn’t end well. Hmm. Bad analogy. However, I think historically speaking, breaking bread together has been a peaceful endeavor, not an act of war.

But about the photos…

That’s lentil stew ladled atop the brick-hard bread I’ve raved about. I paired it with Sartori Pinot Grigio. A red wine would have been too heavy. Even though the slices of spicy salami I boiled first, created an intensely flavorful stock, and the chunk of bread added heft, the white complemented beautifully without overpowering.

In spite of the stunning meals I’ve had here, I was missing my Bali breakfast of homemade granola and coconut yogurt, topped with tropical fruit. On my next trip to Tutto per Tutti market I scanned the cereals on offer and came home with Kelloggs All Bran, a container of Yomo plain yogurt, bananas and strawberries – not quite dragon fruit and papaya but adequate.

The first day I ate it with yogurt. The following day I ate it without. It was either surprisingly good or I’ve completely forgotten the taste of my other life.

My latest achievement is a stew identical to the first, but this time I added kale and more garlic. Not only that, there are still plenty of bread boulders to submerge in the broth for exciting crunchy mouthfuls. That bread! I wish I could bring a year’s supply back with me – although it wouldn’t be the same in Bali’s climate. A bit heavy perhaps…?

I’m loving this – the prep and eating of food. I wouldn’t want to devote my life to it, but it’s fun for an hour or so during the day.

And in case you’ve forgotten, here are the lyrics to the last stanza of Food Glorious Food from the musical, Oliver:

What wouldn’t we give for
That extra bit more
That’s all we live for
Why should we be fated to do
Nothing but brood on food
Magical food,
Wonderful food
marvelous food,
Beautiful food,
Food, Glorious food glorious fooooooood

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