Through the Dark Woods
... or the last 365 days of my life
“You can’t help but be who you are and where.” ~ A Zen saying
Almost a year ago I left Bali. Precisely, on August 7th. I remember my last day in this precious island - with tears in my eyes and indescribable sadness I dropped off my sweet pup to a dog kennel where she was supposed to stay for 3 months, before we get reunited again - in Europe. Completely and utterly heartbroken, I had a good friend come and stay with me for my last night in Ubud so that I am not alone, before I board the plane for Portugal. Bali was home. In so many ways, it still is. However, in the end of my journey I knew I had to leave (for how long I did’t know). Somewhere amongst two and a half years of covid, the isolation and depression that soon followed, and the life that ultimately was set up online - professionally and somewhat personally - I burnt out, suffered an absolute exhaustion, experienced a downright meltdown (actually, a few), and within a few days decided to leave and picked a flight. It’s true, I often do things impulsively. My ex husband used to call it recklessness. Maybe … in the past … but, these days I consider it more an intuitive response. I didn’t know where I needed to go, I didn’t fully understand why this is happening to me, but it felt like being closed in a cage from which I have to get out in any way possible. I needed some rest and space to think clearly.
I arrived to Portugal on August 8 - to a residential mindfulness center located in the middle of a mountain that is a part of a National Park - to rest, rewind, relax and find some peace of mind. Instead, on my second night there, we were all evacuated due to a major fire that was approaching the center from another mountain behind. The sky was apocalyptic in its grayish-mixed-with-orange color, and the air was infused with ashes - almost impossible to breathe. We spent three days in a Catholic seminary nearby, with only necessities that we managed to bring with us. I used to work for a “sister center” located in Thailand (that closed during covid), and I could not imagine if the Portugal center would burn down, and even more so, if someone would end up hurt or dead. As much as I didn’t really feel significant stress or fear in moments of evacuation - it was more adrenaline pumping and gearing us for necessary action - or even during those few days in the seminary when we were receiving updates on fire, I believe that the incident left something within me - within all of us who were there - a trauma, something that needed time to be processed and grieved. The center was, luckily, untouched by the fire, but the surroundings looked horrific. We returned after three, four days and continued with our planned “rest and relaxation”. I could not help but contemplate on death and rebirth. Among the dead black trees and smoke everywhere.
From Portugal I flew to Serbia to visit my parents and figure out what’s next. It’s never not difficult for me to be in Serbia. There is something between me and her that is deeply disrupted, painful, and she triggers the crap out of me. Since I left, in 2006, the relationship has been changing, shifting - from straight forward running away towards something more acceptable - and it is getting more and more tolerable and on a liking spectrum, but certainly hasn’t completely healed yet. Additionally, my relationship with my parents is complicated and since I don’t have a place to stay except with them, let me just say - we are working on it and we use every chance we get to revisit old wounds. Each time I am about to go and visit, I set an intention and a promise to myself to just feel my feelings, experience what comes, let all of that soften and create more space for it - just to end up like a wounded animal - restless, nervous, confused, stressed out and coming up with a strategy to run away and hide. This September was no different. I managed to stay for about a month, and then I left for Barbados - only for a week - to check out potential future work opportunity (all the while my intention was to rest (again) and not think or plan about work).
Barbados was … well, unexpected. I had a very vague idea of Barbados’ history and what it might be like, and so it was easy for me to be surprised and experience something strange and uncomfortable. The leftovers of colonialism and still strong segregation between local people, mostly of African descent, local white people - mainly of British and Irish descent, as well as the wealthy tourists - mainly from the US, Canada and UK, was very transparent, to say the least. Most of the places I have visited or lived in before, were trying to bring people together and create somewhat of a melting pot. Not this place. At least not my experience. There is a part of the island with what would be knows as the “projects”, and then just a bit further up north there is a completely different part with gated billion dollars homes and resorts. Living and working in Barbados didn’t feel appealing to me; although, at the time, I left the door open for negotiation (again, mostly fueled by the fear of unknown and insecurity about the future). There was one sweet moment that I will always remember, though. As a group of us gathered on the beach for an evening NA (Narcotics Anonymous) meeting, we all felt something crawling on our feet, only to realize that the baby turtles have hatched nearby and needed some help getting into the ocean. So, we all got an opportunity to be of great service to mother nature that evening. It was an unforgettable night. And, so I returned to Serbia few days later.
Several days before I flew to Barbados, I received an offer from the center in Portugal (the same one I was visiting in August) to go and work for them for three months. As I didn’t know what else is coming for me, I certainly wasn’t taking my rest seriously, and I just would not be still and listening my inner voice - I took the job and decided that maybe I can do three months (October through mid January) as a trial period and see if I would like to stay longer and ask for a year contract afterwards. The job was mostly administrative and management related, and very different from what I have done for the past several years. I still took it, thinking that it might be of a slower pace, and it might show me if I need to consider a change in my calling. Boy, was I wrong. I was working a lot! Nothing restful and relaxing about it. Plus, the center was going through many internal changes at the time, and it was stressful to follow each of these changes. Additionally, I did not have a car to leave the mountain when I needed to, and I depended fully on my coworkers to take me with them, when appropriate. Aside from making a few wonderful deep friendships with some of the staff, I struggled a lot. Physically I was exhausted and under a lot of stress, mentally I was overwhelmed, and emotionally I felt pretty numb. One beautiful thing that happened in November, though, was that my pup finally arrived. She flew with a friend of mine from Indonesia to Barcelona and I drove to pick her up there. What a reunion that was! We haven’t separated for a single day since then.
I left Portugal in January this year and went back to Serbia - when in doubt, go to Serbia, right?! This time I stayed until mid February. It was winter, and for me, unpleasantly cold, wet, gloomy and depressing. Soon, I have noticed this obsession creeping into my mind that I need to figure things out, to make a decision on what is next. I felt so much pressure about it. And, although, I knew that this is not a way to approach this time in my life, I couldn’t help it. I could not stop thinking about what is next, what am I going to do, and where am I going to go … It was awfully painful. And terrifying. In her book Eating in the Light of the Moon, Dr. Anita Johnston says: “If you are obsessing about yesterday or planning for tomorrow, you will be unable to take in and receive whatever is in front of you that can be nourishing: So the hunger continues. And the emptiness grows.” As every (recovering) addict would probably agree, this describes many moments for us, and myself too. I just couldn’t find respite in those times and in that place, could not relax and stop pushing and forcing and asking for answers - when answers were not there yet. They haven’t ripened yet. Eventually, an opportunity opened up for me to go back to Los Angeles for a while and I took it. Still no answers from the inside though …
So, we have been in the US since February. I spent some time in Los Angeles - previous home of mine - visiting friends, dear ones, and relaxing (yes, I managed to do a bit of that finally). Soon, though, I’ve realized that relaxing and resting in the US can cost a lot of money and that I need to get a job to support myself - this would mean, however, that I couldn’t continue to rest. Quite the opposite actually - I got a job at a retreat center not too far from Los Angeles. For some reason (again) I believed that it will be a smooth sailing and that being in the nature and at the meditation retreat center will help me find some grounding and centering in myself. I was hoping to work some hours but also have time to myself to unwind and be still. Naively, I hoped that just by being in a retreat center, somehow, by osmosis, I would maintain my meditation (spiritual) practice. Instead, what happened was that I overworked and completely exhausted myself, as the work involved a lot of administrative stuff as well as operational: lots of running around, figuring and planning things out, working and communicating with people constantly, as well as a lot of time on the computer. Additionally, I am learning that mental fatigue can be much more powerful than physical - when we are overwhelmed and overstimulate, and are not inspired and passionate about our work, nothing else matters. It’s just a matter of time when we’ll collapse and quit. That moment came for me. I am within my last three weeks at the job and will be going back to Los Angeles afterwards. Part of me is angry for taking the job and not recognizing that I don’t have capacity for it; part is disappointed for not being able to perform fully, produce, and show up as I usually do; and part is just exhausted, very understanding and compassionate to myself, and this is the one part that I decided to honor this time. There is one thing that I remained passionate about - writing! I managed to keep it going even though it would mean that I had to write early in the morning before work.
So, now what? Well, now I get to contemplate on what happened and find the not-so-hidden meaning in all this. A year is almost passed since I started this search. From the inside I have been hearing a voice that says that I need to slow down and things will be revealed to me, life will unfold. But I did not listen. Instead, I was performing, producing, doing and looking to force the answers that cannot be forced. I guess I wasn’t ready to hear it. But I am now. As always, this past experience carries a value for me and it was needed. It did shake my recovery though. It shook me to my core, that’s for sure.
They say resilience is a good thing. Sure - it helps us to manage to go through life, it keeps us going strong, we run and push and fight, and probably often we don’t even feel stressed out … until we do! Due to resilience many of us survived terrible things. But there is a moment for pause, for investigating things inside. This past year caused me a ton of stress. So many moves and flights and different homes and uncomfortable beds, so many decisions, so many powerless moments, so many things to organize and arrange, so many fears about the future, insecurities, dear ones, natural disasters … I felt defeated so many times. In the past, this year would make a perfect example of a situation in which I would have no other choice but to pick up a drink and try to quiet everything down. This year often made me question if maybe my sobriety is not worth it. It made me search for relief on so many occasions. I kept going, though. As I am still bruised from it, I am also grateful for it.
The thing that I got most sad about is that I lost my stillness practices this year. Things became so tough that instead of turning towards those inspiring practices that always help me, I turned towards the more dulling ones. I did not relapse - not with alcohol and drugs. But I did numb myself on many occasions. And even in this event, it is not all lost. Practices are there for us, to pick them up whenever we want and need to. And any day is good enough to continue.
On another positive note, people that I got to know this year, teachings and lessons that came from the opportunities - as challenging as they were - that all is forever. I don’t have all the answers but I feel more at ease .. I know what directions I won’t be taking in my life. And for those that I will, well, as noted American philosopher Yogi Berra said “When you come to a fork in the road - take it.” I am certain that this time I will make a decision based on what I feel inside of me and not based on other people’s opinions, or anxieties, neurosis and fears inside of me.
Some of the lessons learnt:
Don’t beat your impulse! It’s trying to show you your needs at the moment.
Die to the past every moment. You don’t need it. Only refer to it when it is absolutely relevant to the present. Feel the power of this moment and the fulness of simply Being. Feel your presence.
Invest time into a practice of “rampage of appreciation” - it will help you notice things around you daily that you feel thankful and grateful for.
Never (desperately) NEED anything from people.
That being said … Find your community, and commit to it, stay close as much as you can even when you are geographically far away.
Go back to being of service. It keeps you compassionate and connected to others. It also keeps you more compassionate to yourself.
It’s never been between you and the others anyway; it’s always between you and your deep inner self.
Do not act from fear. Do not act from fear. Do not act from fear.
And just like the center in Portugal has been slowly recovering after the fire (video below was shot in October), so we, humans, too recover and heal after our own personal disasters. That’s just what life is about, and the way we are created. It takes time, its own pace, and it is different for everyone. I am still in the stage of recovery - not so much recovery from alcohol and drugs anymore, but recovery from being disconnected from my true self, my deep inner voice, that I neglected for so many years. I am not fully recovered, and quite honestly, I probably never will be. For recovery is a process, a journey, and to be recovered would then mean that we would “get there”, to the destination, that we would pause from searching, contemplating, growing, changing - and that’s just against the rules of nature.
“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each other”
doesn’t make any sense.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.” ~ Rumi