Today, I opted to walk towards the beach for my morning journaling. This is a practice I’ve been doing on my days off, while living a five minute stroll downhill from Avila Beach. The sun was just about to rise over the cliffs. As I walked in the distance, I saw something large moving. It takes practice and a keen eye to watch areas for movement, and it’s easy to be fooled. It could be simply a larger bird bathing, yesterday I was at a loss, and thought I saw an animal playing with a ball in the distance. It was a human swimming with a bright orange vest. But today, my eyes stared into the horizon. As I walked closer, I saw in the water a dolphin, swimming solo towards the sunrise. I watched with awe and wonder. How grateful I was to witness it. Another passerby noted, “it’s beautiful isn’t it?” I pointed out the dolphin I just saw, he informed me he had a seen a group of 20-30 seals that just swam by.
I was just about to sit on the cement steps looking onto the pier, when I saw something moving beyond me. A woman was looking through a telescope at this little being, and as she walked by me she smiled and was wearing an “awe of god” shirt. The universe was definitely speaking to me. I walked onto the pier and saw a little otter down below, cleaning himself, having fun rolling in circles in the water. The sun glistened like golden flecks in the water as I stared at him with joy. He seemed to notice me and I’d like to think he was putting on a show. On the other end of the pier, I saw something move at the corner of my eye, but did not stay above water for too long. I caught a glimpse of a seal.
And although I went to the beach to journal, I spent an hour being mesmerized by what was in my presence… The morning sunrise served as the backdrop for the dolphin, seal, and otter, and the variety of birds that were greeting my morning. Sometimes life redirects us to just be and witness the magic that lies before us. But we have to be present to observe this.
This week when visiting with my grandmother 3000 miles across the country, I wasn’t alone. She had other friends present: her weekly Mahjong crew. Every time I make the visit to my grandmother in Philly, there is at least one day her friends are present. This has been going on for years. They don’t gamble for much: There’s 25cent entry fee, bring loads of quarters and it can last you hours. I never thought much of this game, which is similar to Gin Rummy, but with these tiles and Chinese symbols. I took for granted the sound of the domino like cubes being spread across the table. It served as background noise to the Filipino parties and gatherings, different older family members taking their turns at winning. It’s the sound of nostalgia, although my mom never played, it seemed to be preserved for the elder generation: grandparents, great-aunts, great-grandparents.
But what made me appreciate the importance of this game was watching my grandma play with her friends this week. She’s been struggling with dementia for years, walking with a cane, most recently needing people to spoon feed her or else she won’t eat on her own. Yet, in front of a mahjong table the old mahjong queen arises. Her strategies are on point, winning game after game. The music of Barry Manilow played in the background, as she swayed her hands as if conducting an orchestra. Grandma was in the flow. She may forget something she asked me 2 minutes ago, but she was not forgetting the techniques of this communal game that’s been embedded in her bones.
I never learned this game, but as I watched her and her friends, I tried to pick up what I could. How many more moments would I have of this? I should learn. I tried to ask questions to the group, and although they responded, I was lovingly scolded because they said they lost because of talking to me. And so I observed in silence for nearly two hours.
And I couldn’t help but appreciate her friends who show up for her week after week, who keep her company, challenge her memory skills, and simply join together to laugh. This is a friendship aspirational goal I hope to achieve. There may be other groups playing mahjong around the world, or whatever game their culture is obsessed with. Those who live longer fuller lives don’t just have to live in Blue Zones, but must be part of a collective who watch out for each other, still play, sway to the music, and laugh with their competitive edges.
“Nobody can discover the world for somebody else. Only when we discover it for ourselves does it become common ground and a common bond and we cease to be alone.” -Wendell Berry
Yesterday, I opted to end my 10 days in Costa Rica with a walking tour of San Jose. It’s an easy way to squeeze in history, exercise, and tourism in a short amount of time. There were six of us tourists, all solo travellers. The interesting thing when you travel solo is you are out of your comfort zone, no familiar friends or family to converse with, and you have the opportunity to have conversations with people around the world.
On the tour, my only fellow American spent the past week clowning around Costa Rica. She literally was clowning, through an organization run by the infamous Patch Adams. They spread smiles around the world through comedic performance. We were an international group from Ecuador, Colombia, Netherlands, and Scotland. One was brought here for work, another has moved here temporarily as a digital nomad, and most for pure pleasure.
The day unfolded without much plans, we walked the laid out path our guide had set for us. But then we inquired about the restaurant he recommended La Esquinita de la Abuela (Grandma’s corner), an awe inspiring place with a cheap menu and local cuisine, decorated as one’s grandmother’s home would be. Our guide stated “you know how minimalism is popular, but Central America is not that. Minimalism is boring, we are maximalists. And this is decorated with maximalism.” In the corner of the restaurant, where chicken soup was being served, was an homage to St. Martin de Porres with brooms next to him. Upon exploration of who this Saint was and why was he here, he was a mixed race friar from Peru. He’s the saint for social justice, racial harmony, and mixed race people. The broom served as a symbol that all work was sacred, regardless of how small the task. I felt that in this restaurant that served authentic Costa Rican cuisine in it’s kitchy plates and glasses. The love was offered to all who entered.
We listened to local stories our guide shared with us over lunch, such as who was author Jose Leon Sanchez. He allegedly stole La Negrita (the beloved Black Madonna) and condemned to jail for years, and upon release fleeing Costa Rica, and found fame in Mexico City. We heard about a tradition of people wearing folk masks in small towns, who look like pinata heads but the opposite occurs. Instead of this pinata like figure being hit, you are hit with a stick, “you know what you may happen if you are too close.”
It was as if some of us didn’t want it to end. We enjoyed wandering (flaneuring) the streets taking in the recommended restaurants, cafes, and markets. The 2 ½ hour tour extended to over 8 hours, as we shared our professions, travel history, political views of our countries, and dreams over coffee and shared desserts. We stumbled to one of the top 100 cafes in the world, and also one of the most beautiful in the local theater. Our guide told us, if we couldn’t make it to a show, we could get a peak of the theater while walking to the restroom.
As we walked the streets, I was reminded of the film Before Sunrise, without the romance, and instead of two main characters, there were four. Who knows if we will see each other again, I made sure to share our contacts. Life has a funny way of working out, “we may end up meeting in another country” I told a fellow traveller as I gave her a hug goodbye.
As we meet strangers, when we travel solo, we have the opportunity to pause and reflect on who we are in this moment, where we’ve come from, and where we opt to go. What are the stories you choose to share? Where are the destinations you hope to go? What type of life are you stepping into when you return home? Where is home, and will home change? All of this occurs within the backdrop of an unfamiliar country, which adds to the allure of the fleeting moment. I can’t help but notice the nomadic wanderluster arises in me at times like this. The 25 year old backpacker who visited 15 countries in one summer, and so many hopes before landing my first full time job. Do I forever want to wander? Will I ever find one home? At moments like this, I don’t just meet new friends, but meet that old version of myself who still longs for adventure, wonder, and feels ephemeral.
When’s the last time you’ve met that version of yourself?
This week, I am squeezing a visit with my grandmother. She’s been such a powerhouse for much of my life, the top prescribing psychiatrist in Philly for quite some time. She owned a practice for decades, with hundreds of employees and numerous buildings. The past several years have brought about retirement and a bit of dementia. It’s been gradual, having long term memory, but lapsing in short term memory.
Mama Minda is what I call her, as she never wanted to be called grandma. She was quite young when she became a grandmother with me, I never knew any different. I accepted it, and it stuck. She helped pay for my living as I went to graduate school in psychology, and my first year of tuition. For a brief year after I got my doctorate, I lived and worked with her. I witnessed her wearing powerhouse suite blazers that were bright or filled with bold springtime flowers and heels, bedazzled herself with jewelry.
Depsite her dementia progressing, she still wears bling jewelry. The gold glistens as she walks with a cane, or holding onto your arm. Her time sitting across from patients, listening to their symptoms, now consist of crocheting scarves. She once led meetings and had pharmaceutical reps following her from one building to another offering expansive meals for staff members, I now had to spoon feed her lunch, or else she wouldn’t eat. There’s a sense of appreciation, as she feels this is a loving act and it is. We age, dynamics change.
In the two hours I spent with her, she asked me questions 30-50 times. I didn’t mind responding, as it was a reminder to practice patience. It also served as exposure therapy to talk about my recent break up? Our conversations went like this:
Grandma Me
How old are you now? 20? 30? 40? 46
Where are you living? California
Where in California? Avila Beach
Do you have a boyfriend? We broke up
Why? Not a good match
Was he American? Or Filipino? American
I’ll pray for you so you will find a Thank you
Good match, get married,
And have kids
And repeat
It’s one way to get over a break up… and I know her repetitive questions are a way to ensure I am “happy”, that I am taken care of. All the boxes are checked off for what brought about happiness in her era, and she wouldn’t have to worry about me. Or she could partake in any way to assist, by praying or attempting to play matchmaker.
I am not sure how many years we have together, but I will make the most of it. And will be happy to respond to whatever questions she asks, and know they come from a space of love. It’s a role reversal, and I’m happy to reciprocate.
“Is this your first time at Esalen,” the gatekeeper asked, as I was checking in.
“No, it’s my fourth, but first time volunteering.” I responded.
The gatekeeper proceeded to describe property rules and protocol for my day at Esalen. I’ve attended three retreats at this Big Sur property in the past 15 months, nourishing my soul at times of change. I had the urge to return, but didn’t have the time to allot to a full retreat, therefore a day dose would have to suffice. Volunteers get nearly 12 hours to use the facility.
I kept this in mind as I left my home at 6am, but with traffic, and a stop to fill my car, I didn’t make it to Esalen until after 10:00. I put positive thoughts in the universe my desire for leftover breakfast and a spot to charge my car, and surprisingly both were available to me on arrival. I was lucky for scraps, as breakfast ended at 930. I needed food in my body, because my shift started when lunch would be served.
Retreats sell out at Esalen, and as I checked the website, so do volunteer slots. Available slots are posted two weeks early, and are quickly nabbed up. Everyone wants an opportunity to experience the land, the thermal baths, and the healing space Esalen has to offer. So I felt relieved when I landed a spot. I had hopes to share this with my partner, but he cancelled the week prior due to a conflict in schedule, and we broke up yesterday. So, here I was ready to volunteer solo on what I thought would be a joint venture.
My two hours of free time before check in included writing as I looked out the cliffs of the Pacific Ocean, laying in the gardens, and glancing at the available books in the bookstore. Time passed quickly, I moved my car, parked far away as requested and went to check in for my volunteer shift to begin.
“I want you to get lunch first, then start your shift for me.” My shoulders and nervous system relaxed. The volunteer attendant wanted to ensure I was nourished before I prepared food for others. What a beautiful thing. My body needed nourishment, after a break up, and long solo road trip.
My three hours in the kitchen served as a meditation, as I cut up zucchini with repetition. Everyone was in their zone of allotted tasks to do. Another staff member, asked how I was doing and if I needed water. She grabbed water for me in a large plastic container. Once again another stranger was nourishing me. Time passed as I swept the kitchen with a broom, peeled off stickers from plums, and washed these fruits for others. And just like that, my shift was over.
For the next 75 minutes I relaxed in the thermal baths, naked as everyone else was. We watched otters play in the water, one even shared her binocolars with the collective. Each time I go to the thermal baths, I cant help but think we stepped outside of Big Sur California and into ancient Greek times. Perhaps we are our own gods and goddesses who deserve a break from daily modern life.
This is my first time I volunteered at Esalen, and I know it won’t be my last. Perhaps in the future it may be more than cutting vegetables, perhaps a sound bath I will lead or a workshop. But for now this is good, I appreciate the mutual nourishment in what this place offers me. I have gratitude to the land, and the ancestors and protectors of the land the Esselen tribe. Thank you for holding me, nourishing me, and I hope in some way I can serve you.
I’m curious how there is reciprocal nourishment in your life? Whether that is through people, pets, or places?
Earlier this year, my friend Lisa bought for my birthday a special necklace. Yet prior to putting it on my neck, she encouraged me to have a ceremony surrounding it. Because it wasn’t just any necklace. The script was written in the language that pre-dates the Filipino language of Tagalog, before colonization Babayin. The word is powerful: FREEDOM.
Although my birthday was months ago, I have not felt the time was right to wear it. I tried a ceremony on the afternoon of a full moon last month. I walked five minutes from my home to the sand, and into the ocean, and held this in my hand thinking of intentions. But it wasn’t time to wear it yet, and I let time pass.
Yet something shifted this month. It was the day after I paid off my credit cards (which had built up after moving back to America). There was a sense of freedom that emerged: financial freedom. And I knew it was time to do a ceremony for the necklace and finally wear it.
Yesterday morning, I walked towards the beach, but this time I stopped and saw mini labyrinth lay before me. It was in the shape of a snake, a reminder of transformation lay before me. I placed my necklace in the center, along with palo santo and a lighter. I slowly walked toward the center of the snake’s mouth, and when I reached it I picked up these items and cleansed the necklace. Now was the time to place it on my neck.
And maybe somehow a shift was made.
Today is the second day I am wearing the necklace, a stranger in line at the coffee shop gave me a compliment to my necklace. She queried if it was in Hebrew, and what it meant. I told her it was “Freedom” in the Filipino script language before colonization. She found it intriguing, and shared it with her husband next to her.
There was power in sharing the story, in simply telling this stranger about my necklace. It serves as a reminder there is intentional choice and strength in what we wear and the narrative we share behind that. Everyday is an opportunity to make a statement in what we stand for.
As I go through my belongings and pack for yet another move, I found this tin box that says “Make your own magic.” Inside exists a little bit of old popcorn. No, they are not the buttered old kernels that get stuck in your teeth. This popcorn is something else.
Years ago, I attended a workshop led by the infamous author, screenwriter, and teacher Julia Cameron. She was leading an immersive training on one of her most notable projects: The Artist Way. This event focused on how one can reconnect or jumpstart their creativity. There are writing exercises, self-reflective activities, and within a group one can expect sharing. When this is taught in a group, one thing she had us do was share popcorn. Popcorn are little wishes, blessings, or compliments one offers other members of the group. She used the metaphor of popcorn, because these statements are quick, joyful, spontaneous, and delicious. Even if one is a stranger, you must write a positive fortune for this individual. You can be as creative as you like.
The 12 Week Artist Way is a project I not only finished, but led many groups over the years. And sometimes I bring out the popcorn exercise. In this little tin box, I’ve kept some of these popcorns I have received. I know if I am feeling down, I can go into this box.
One I received said: “Your radiate a warmth and calm energy, that feels like it’s about to have a breakthrough.” Another said “Your kind and open heart will always guide you, as your strong connection to your spiritual center. Let this be the sole guide for your life and never ever let this go for anything or anyone.”
It’s interesting the things we choose to keep over the years. I move frequently, and have donated, discarded, or upcycled many things. This little popcorn box is still quite special to me. I hope you have something like this among your precious belongings.
Walking on Sunset Boulevard in Silverlake with a group of friends on Saturday, a stranger approached me and said “you need new shoes.” I was surprised at her comment. We had just finished a delightful meal at a local Thai establishment, after sharing our updated goals for the year and ways we would be accountable to each other. I opted to wear a pair of white sandals that were made by Minnesota Moccasin company, that had turquoise embellishments. These were sandals I loved in theory but I wasn’t ready to let go of them. I wanted to “wear them to the ground,” to know I got the full use out of them.
“They are not fitting right on you. You need new shoes. I need new shoes too.” My friends looked at her with a sense of curiosity in their faces, as she walked by. All were wondering was she was trying to sell me shoes? This was Sunset Boulevard after all. As she strolled by us, another woman began stating out loud with her dog “We are on Sunset on a Saturday night.” Was she livestreaming on a social media site? Nope, she was just in the midst of a psychotic episode.
As we reflected on both of these two women juxtaposed to each other, we walked up a little hill. A helicopter circled around us. My friend opened up her neighbor app, which stated an armed individual was nearby. We didn’t know what to do, keep walking, try to hide? “Another night in Los Angeles,” one of my friends shared. Was this a regular night? A stranger telling you to get new shoes, a psychotic woman, a helicopter police chase, armed gunmen, and processing goals for one’s life with friends at a delicious restaurant. Perhaps it was a typical day. It was a mixture of wonder, appreciation, fear, confusion, and joy. This is life in today’s world, and it was playing out in our small atmosphere.
“You need new shoes.” Despite all that happened, this was the comment that stayed with me for the rest of the weekend. Perhaps this woman was right. Why was I holding onto old shoes trying to get the most use out of them? The fact was the more I used these particular shoes, the less I could use all the other shoes in my closet. I had more than enough shoes, I didn’t need new ones, I just needed to get rid of these. And so later in the week, I did just that. I not only got rid of this particular pair of shoes, but three other ones that were waiting to be given away. I did it with pleasure, as I offered up space for me to see what I actually own and take joy in using my other belongings.
This stranger’s comment served as a current lesson in my life. How often do we take wisdom from strangers or a passerby’s comments? There are textures to conversations, interpretations we can make from metaphorical statements. I wasn’t just getting rid of shoes, I was getting rid of that which I have overgrown and that which doesn’t serve me. I was creating space in my life to welcome in the beauty that already exists.
I woke up this morning having a dream that my mother and I had an argument about time. I felt she was wasting it, being slow in her movements, when we had a long road trip to get to. She is retired and luxuriates in time, I felt I didn’t have enough of it. In the dream, I wanted to rush her to and make the most of it.
This dream made sense at this particular moment, it was the evening the clocks sprung forward.
I woke up earlier than my roommates and was not clear of time. We were at a retreat center with limited cell service and wifi in the cabins. It was completely dark outside, I looked at my phone and wondered was it really 545 am? Would my cell phone change without service? Could I trust time, feeling as if I didn’t have enough?
But the truth is (at least for me on retreats) time stretches and expands while one is away from her everyday demands. And so what is time?
Time’s been on my mind, as I have clients in other countries at the moment, where the time does not change. The past week trying to coordinate schedules blew my mind, what time tomorrow would it be for them when we spoke today for me? As I reflect on time, I want a different job so I can have more time off, because as a full time salaried employee someone controls the amount of time I can use leisurely and who determines how my sick time shall be used, even if I want to focus more on wellness. I long for time abundance rather than time scarcity.
I woke up with a sore throat and thought to make better use of my morning. Instead of worrying about time, I would do something with it.
I opted to walk to the lounge area and have some tea, another retreat attendee noted how early I was up, and he was the same. He continued to compare this time, to time back home. Another woman asked for the time, and a man stated the time was near sunset. He didn’t know because he had pre-coffee brain. Time was on all of our minds.
At the moment, I could luxuriate in it. And I did
Initially as I walked towards the baths at 6ish I saw tiny paw prints on the staircase. I wasn’t sure what animal may be joining me in the open baths, would it just be me and a racoon? A human couple left the baths, I saw no racoons, and felt at ease as I slid into the thermal baths. At Esalen, the baths are clothing optional. In the darkness of the early day or evening, I do not mind being nude alone in the healing waters, listening to the ocean hit the rocks below. And here time felt expansive.
I sit in front of a tree overlooking a mountain, facing the direction of where the sun will be rising from, having a warm cup of coffee before yoga class begins. At another point of my busy life, I may say that I beat time. I was so productive before the sun said hello. But time is not a thing to be beat. It’s something to be in partnership with, flow with.
There’s a patter on the roof, I witness two racoons scoping out the landscape during their last moments of nocturnal activities. Slowly they creep and disappear into the tree that I am observing. Perhaps these were the racoons whose footprints I observed in the baths. Perhaps we are on the same schedule. They do not adhere to clocks and watches, but the movement of the sun and moon. Yet, here we are together making the most of the time we have today.
“He who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead; his eyes are closed.”- Albert Einstein
This past weekend I went to an Awe & Wonder Retreat, 3 days 2 nights retreat to Esalen, led by Dacher Keltner. I didn’t know what I was getting into when I signed up, I simply wanted to go to Esalen. Every retreat listed seemed to be filled with inspiration, as Esalen’s focus has been on the intersection on philosophy, spirituality, and psychology. My friend Gretchen told me the other day that one of her life goals is to go to Esalen, and that there are two things that stir her with passion and excitement in this world: love and the programs at Esalen. I could not agree more. Yet, I chose the right program to attend, it was exactly what my soul needed at this moment in time.
Dacher shared the 8 aspects of wonder which include: Mystical Experience/Spirituality, Moral Beauty (Kindness and Courage we witness in others), Visual Design, Music, Collective Effervescence (what we experience in concerts or sporting events), Life and Death, Nature, Big Ideas. Through focusing on awe and wonder several times a week, we can decrease loneliness, depression, and increase a sense of gratitude. Although Dacher is a social psychologist, that has studied happiness, has consulted with Pixar for the films Inside Out and Soul, and helped create the emojis for Facebook, he recently pivoted his work toward the concepts of Awe and Wonder. He chose to do this after his brother Rolf died of colon cancer. There was so much grief there as he reflected the totality of the experiences around the world together over decades, but also with this was a sense of awe for the life cycle. He knew he could emerge from this grief from studying and focusing on awe.
Throughout the workshop we learned about the research of Awe and Wonder, completed experiential exercises collectively or in small groups, and processed what was arising internally through reflective writing exercises and contemplation. The group that consisted of 33 people of all different ages cried together, smiled, laughed, and shared about experiences of bliss, wonder, and grief. The concept of awe and wonder seemed so simple, this is something we used to relish in as children, and at times when we are mindful. Yet it is so poignant. Over the past fifteen years, I have a daily practice of gratitude, but I admit at times it can get stale. Adding one reflection of what brought me wonder could enrich this each night. I realize that my Instagram posts (amodernpilgrimage) is to pivot and remind others of the sacred places in the world, sacred moments, and the sacredness in oneself also point to the sense of awe and wonder.
On the 6 ½ hour drive up to Esalen, we listened to the entire soundtrack of Hamilton. My friend had never heard of it, and has not been exposed to many musicals in her life. As I drove up the 101 North, I cried at parts of the songs that always seem to touch me. That musicals seems to express the vastness of emotions we have and the rawness of the human experience. This is why I love this creation so much, and I realized it was a wonderful introduction to the Awe and Wonder weekend. Oftentimes, when I am so moved by something, whether this is a piece of art, writing, song, interaction with a stranger, or a beautiful landscape I want to share this. I yearn for this peak emotion of Awe, which is easily accessible to us.
For the research of the book, the following question was asked to thousands of people from nearly 30 countries :
What is an experience of awe that you have had, when you encountered a vast mystery that transcends your understanding of the world?
From this, the 8 wonders of life were created. And so I encourage you today to reflect on this question, share this question with a friend, acquaintance or even a stranger. Let it land on you and allow yourself to linger on the beauty of reflection and conversation.
It Only Takes A Smile 