i’m reflecting on how different i am here, or maybe how different here is, which in turn affects how i am.
the rawness and untouched nature of the jungle landscape inspires me to be the same, without ever forcing me to adapt to its pace. here, if my feet collect specks of dirt from walking around barefoot, i don’t rush to wipe them off. insects i’ve never seen fly towards me during yoga and i simply close my eyes or gently wave them aside, which is markedly different from the reaction i have at home, where i’ll run screaming (at the very least, on the inside) into the house if i hear a bee buzzing too closely.
the points on my body that tend to hold stress feel softer, more relaxed. my mind feels more still. maybe not as still as i’d prefer, but still, stiller.
i think about the bumpy dirt roads upon which we trek to a waterfall or drive (necessarily) slowly, and the purposefully easy ryme of this retreat, and i am reminded of how everything in this kind of place serves to slow me down. this is not the space or the time for rushing through anything, in body, mind, or speech.
i think about the sterility and sameness of the city and the suburbs, and how the world in such places was shaved down to form grids of cement as an intentionally sturdy foundation for existing, yet how alternatively, the closer we can be to the earth without any such densely rigid barrier, the more grounded (literally and figuratively) we can so easily be.
i am reminded that this must be how we were always meant to “live.”
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