Thursday, March 4, 2010

The Trouble with Vacations is.....

Now that I am back from two weeks away, I wonder a little bit why I went away in the first place. Here's what I know from my vacation-- I feel pretty strongly that living in Oaxaca, Mexico might be my long-term destiny. Rafael, the Italian man who I chatted with extensively about destiny, determination, and self-actualization for TWO HOURS, in SPANISH (thank you very much), encouraged me to keep my dream of living in Oaxaca on the table. Easy for you to say Rafael. You are a 34-year-old hot Italian from Switzerland (he looks like an Italian Robert Downey Junior with a little bit of extra grey) travelling Mexico for a year. You have no kids, no job (except for the music video he is filming in Chiapas next month), and clearly, some family money. But I got his point. Don't say "I can't" in the same breath as "I want."

As soon as I got back to Seattle, I stepped into a room full of dirty laundry, 300 emails, a stack of bills to pay, a half-dead lemon tree and a chicken coop full of chicken poop. Where to begin? And how do I hold my Oaxacan dream along side my Calgon Take Me Away life? Is it possible? It has to be. Is it frivolous to imagine living in beautiful Oaxaca, speaking Espanol, basking in the sun, chatting with the artists and pretentious ex-pats who do nothing really? Or, is it planning for my future, imagining it, visualizing it, preparing for it?

When I teach Yoga, I ofter talk about how we are so comfortable that we can almost not bear to be uncomfortable. I heard on NPR that a car is being recalled because the power steering isn't 100% when the car is moving at 10 miles/hour or less. Come on!!! Is this really a problem? Can you imagine this complaint in India or Haiti? In Oaxaca, I was so uncomfortable in so many ways... my eyes felt too blue, my legs felt too long, my Spanish felt too English, I couldn't figure out the traffic lights, I am directionally impaired. Why did I love it then? It was liberating. I had access to a different part of myself, the part that grows out of discomfort, that has to push through the ease with which I live normally in order to find the closest bano! Maybe once I catch up with my laundry, bills, emails and chickens I'll feel less compelled by my Oaxacan dream. Or maybe not.

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