Life, An Evil Temptress

I dreamt last night that my mom was hugging me. We were in the kitchen of the house that I grew up in and moved out of when I was ten. I dream of that kitchen a lot and it contains so many of my memories of comfort and warmth. I remember its linoleum flooring, the balcony overlooking a massive orange tree--the scent of orange blossoms infusing the air come spring time. I can almost taste my mom's cooking and remember the laughter as my family and I sat around a round table in our kitchen nook and ate the home-cooked loveliness of my youth. That dream hug from my mom was the best thing in the whole world. I felt so safe, so sound, and when I woke up it was the only thing I wanted. I realize that dreaming about getting a hug from my mom means homesickness. Maybe I just need a hug.

I'm not going to sugarcoat this blog post with lies about blissful romances and sunny city days. Today didn't incorporate any of those things. I thought I was over this phase of waking up and feeling horrible, knowing I would waste my entire day caught up in unnecessary self-deprecation. I've been over-extending myself. Wearing myself out to the point of exhaustion. Too many temptations, too much fun, which means days of feeling like crap. It's not worth it.

Before I came here I went on a meditation retreat where I wasn't allowed to speak, read or write for ten days. Literally, no speaking for ten days. It was in a town called Norfolk about a half an hour away from Yosemite. I got a ride from a random guy my age living in San Francisco, ready to embark on the same adventure.

I was going through a lot at the time. My mind and my soul needed clearing. My heart needed clearing. I couldn't figure out how to deal with the stresses in my life. I was moving to London and I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I didn't know what I was doing with my life and I was terrified.

It was the hardest thing I've ever done. The gong sounded at 4 a.m.--pitch black outside, the group of forty or so women would make our way in silence to the meditation hall where we would sit in rows, on top of cushions on the carpeted floor. Legs crossed, and bodies still, we would start meditating to S.N. Goenka's voice on a pre-recorded tape. Two teachers sat perched in unison on top of a wooden platform--appearing like still, false idols. My mind would flood with every feeling, every sadness, every emotion I had ever felt. It would wander into dark places of loves lost, of past incidences of regret, of all the sadness I have ever countered or will encounter. It took me back to beaches in Indonesia, to happier times, to the times when I thought love would never disappear and it was all that mattered. My mind was supposed to turn clear as I focused on my breathing and the sensations in my body, but it wasn't. Until it was. And when it was, it was amazing. My body and my mind felt in ways that I never thought possible. It was mind blowing and gave me more clarity than I ever thought possible in ten days.

I would walk around the lagoon near my cabin and sit on a lonely patch of grass. There were tons of purple wildflowers growing, and because of the silence, the insects and bullfrogs resonated like an orchestra. There was a stump that I sometimes sat on, but mostly I sat in the grass and thought. This was my place. My place and mine alone. Even though I was surrounded by other people, it was as if I was the only one there. Their presence was fleeting--simple reminders that your body wasn't actually alone in the world. I felt as if I was the only one experiencing the torture and the bliss of the experience.

It's really hard having ten days to yourself. Crying was a daily ritual, followed by life-loathing, and then ultimately self-love. It was a true soul cleansing. My face broke out more than it ever has in my life, my stomach would go through phases of intense pain, and when I came home it all disappeared. I left glowing; as if life had handed me an unopened present. A new tool.

The retreat gave me the inner peace and strength to forgive those that I resented and to forgive myself for any regrets and mistakes I've made in life. There was a moment when I sat alone on my bed thinking about every single loved one I have in my life. My friends and my family--and in my head I recited every reason why I love them. It literally brought me to tears. There were no words, I wasn't allowed them.

I met a girl on our last day when we were allowed to speak, who was from London. She told me meditation would really help me when I get there. That London was overwhelming and all about partying. It's a city of temptations and meditation would help ground me. I had no idea how right she was. I haven't meditated at all since I've been here, but I recognize that I need it now more than ever. I know I can pick it up again. I remember the retreat vividly. I remember how I thought I could never get through it, how I wanted to give up. I also remember sticking through it and in the end feeling like I could do anything I wanted. Feeling like this would change my life forever. I left with a smile on my face and a fresh outlook on the world around me and its people that encompass it.

I've realized about myself that I thrive on new experiences. The one thing I've continuously committed myself too, no matter where I am in the world is my writing. It's in a sense, my meditation. My therapy. My love.

I have got to keep myself grounded. It's really hard when you move somewhere new to find that balance, to understand when too much is too much. There's always a realization in the midst of happiness, to just how much you miss your friends and family back home. As amazing as your new friends are, they just don't know you the way someone does after knowing you for 27 years. I'm hoping that I will ease myself into this city and learn to flow perfectly within its chaotic walls.