Back In Tulum

March 4, 2008

I woke early - 5:30 AM. The wind was raging outside and the ocean rumbled. I think we had a storm, or at least rain in the night, but I’m not sure.

Woke having a dream about Uncle Steve. We were all going out to a place like “The Supper Club,” and I was trying to get him to sing. I had a recording of “You Can’t Take That Away From Me,” and he sang along to it a few times. Of course, he was nervous about forgetting the words, and practiced scatting awhile. Then it was nearly time to go. He was going to wear a tux, and I was going to wear a tux, so I decided I should wear something different. I sewed pink ruffles and lace trim to my black stretchy Club Med dress. I tried it on (and somehow that was in a restaurant!), but the sewing made the dress really puffy so I changed back into my tux. Whenever I looked in the mirror, I looked just like my brother Joe. But no matter… Then, I was looking in my files for the words to “Can’t Take That Away from Me,” and couldn’t find them. I thought about whether I would have time to make copies from my fake book. All along, I kept reminding myself that I could just print out the words from my computer, but I kept forgetting that and looking for them anyway. Dad called and sang “Don’t Cry for Me Argentina” on the phone, and I woke up.

Hmm….

There are lovely people here. Most are women and in their late 20s – on the cusp of their adult lives. They are beautiful – strong and soft at the same time, their bodies smooth and firm, unblemished and un-stretched by childbirth, nursing, or the other rites of adult womanhood. They casually wear their bikinis, belly shirt, or low-rise yoga pants, seemingly at home in their bodies. I look at them and wonder if they appreciate the glory of their youth – I know I didn’t. Was my body ever as full of promise and perfection? I always struggled with it, feeling self-conscious about my not so flat belly and small breasts -- never realizing that it was at its peak. On Monday in class, Kelly said, the biggest cause of death is birth. We are all on our way to death from the moment we are born, and so the recourse we have is to become beings of light inside our earthly bodies, which are decaying all the time. If these girls harbor any negative feelings about themselves, you wouldn’t know it. Although each is a different shape and size, they all seem filled with light and the blue of the sky inside their perfect skin.

Angelica's mother is German and her father is Japanese. She is quite beautiful with almond eyes, an olive complexion, jet-black hair, and a wide, easy smile. She has no hard edges or angularity at all and carries herself with a dancer's posture. Her mother came to Minnesota from Germany, following an inner call to work with Native Americans and study macrobiotic nutrition. Her father was also in school, studying macrobiotics, and that is how they met. I find it fascinating that Angelica grew up in a home where eating consciously was taken for granted. She grew up without any processed foods – believing that eating food as close to its natural state and source is very important. She works in nutrition in NY. Yesterday morning, she told me that she had woken up from a dream about her mother, and missed her terribly. But then, she said, she was consoled by the fact that I was like her mother on this trip. And she hugged me, full of emotion.

It is a funny thing to be the senior person here – and I am. There are two men, John and Joe, both in their late 40s, but I am the eldest. Erin and Stacey are here – both from the Lotus Teacher Training. And Erin, when she saw me, exclaimed with joy, “I not only have my adopted sister here but my Jewish mama too!” Ironic, isn’t it; I came on this retreat, in part, to be in a place where I can be away from my roles as mother, producer, supervisor, manager, etc., and I have been named a surrogate mom and explainer of the teachings to many of the other participants. They think I am wise, but I think my knowledge is only the tip of the iceberg.

Yesterday’s dharma talk and class were about perfecting kindness. As Brooke explained it, we could never, in our human bodies, travel the world and eradicate pain and suffering in every human being. It is not possible. But we can eradicate it in our minds, and offer that perfection to everyone we meet, giving it to them and hoping that they realize it and offer it in their turn. She said that it is easy to be kind to those who are kind to us, but asked, “What is the attitude you hold towards people you may never meet? Or people who are not kind to you?” She asked us to try to remember that people who we perceive as not kind are usually full of pain and are suffering. And thus, more than anyone, they need our kindness. As Kelly said yesterday, you can only see in people what you yourself are or have been in the past. This is a very hard concept, especially when thinking about someone like Hitler. Sometimes I understand it, but sometimes I don’t. Still, it does make sense to me that reacting with anger and unkindness never helps a situation, and inevitably causes me suffering – either with a muscle spasm, headache, or irritable stomach. We must see each and every person as a holy, perfectly realized being. Because any imperfections we see in them are only reflections of ourselves.