LEAPNOW: Travelers’ Tales

An amazing email from a student to her group as she contemplates completing her solo internship working with autistic children in Vietnam, and returning to the U.S. to rejoin her group for their final retreat.    This post demonstrates the kind of practical skills that she has learned to master difficult emotions and states of mind - as well as her heightened consciousness about completing an experience before moving on to another:

I really worked myself into quite the spot last night.  I called my mother and started bawling about how out of control I felt and how I was feeling so much resistance to writing and to completion in general.  She wasn’t able to talk for long and left me with these words “stop resisting the resistance”.  I know Ive shared this many times before and maybe now it starts to sound repetitive, but really it came back to acceptance.  So instead of continuing to spiral out of control with my thoughts, I sat down on my bed took a deep breath and said, I accept it.

All of it.

The noise, the heat, the resistance.

And then I meditated for 30 mintues or so, following my breath at first and then repeating the tara mantra (learned during the fall semester in India) because as I calmed down, I noticed the overwhelming feeling of fear that collects in my stomach. Then I lay down and started taking really deep breaths, breathing in to my fear.  For several moments I felt
completely overtaken by the feeling, but then it passed and I immediately felt this tingling sensation all over my body.  And I realized that behind my fear there was something else.
I did Reiki (learned in India) on myself and woke up this morning feeling regrounded.

I have resistance to completion, to endings and transitions.  This is the point in time where Im supposed to pack up my bags and move on to the next place without saying goodbye.  Just like I did when we moved to Rhode island and then to Northampton and then every time I switched schools.  I’ve always left without completion, without facing the things I’m running away from.

As far as feeling safe in the group, I also had a realization the other night.  I dont think Ive ever felt so vulnerable, yet so safe on a group.  I’ve shared parts of myself with all of you that up until this year had been locked away in a box and labeled “do not open”.  That’s where I think the feeling unsafe comes from.  My practice before LEAPYEAR was to interact superficially.  I felt safe, but miserable.  There are definately still places where I am not quite willing to be vulnerable in the group and that’s where my concentration has been over the past week or so.

Anyways, whats my point in sharing this? I guess its just a reminder to myself and to everyone that conscious living is a constant process.  I had this idea that I was going to finish LEAPYEAR completely transformed and perfected, all of my shadows left behind.  The truth is we never stop transforming.  Just like in meditation/Buddhist practice, there are the rare few that reach nirvana, but for the majority its a lifelong journey, in which new challenges/lessons are revealed to us everyday.

Back in Hoi An, I chose to start loving myself unconditionally.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t still struggle with confidence and with self-acceptance or that I don’t have moments where I feel totally lost or frozen in anxiety.  Somedays I fall off the bandwagon, but each time I do I learn something new.

So, I’m letting go of the idea that I need to show up at Maacama (LEAPNOW’s California campus) with all my ducks in a row, perfectly together.   And I don’t expect any of you to show up perfectly chiseled and put together either.  Just
show up as yourself and I’ll try my hardest to come as me.

A description from a student of his Spring 2008 internship activities working to protect the marine environment on the coast of Madagascar (an island off the east coast of Africa)!
Life here is turning out to be wonderful.  Everyday I fall asleep and wake up to the sound of the ocean, it doesn’t get much better than that.  Every day I SCUBA dive at least once, mostly twice now since this is my 2nd expedition which makes me local around these parts.   When I dive I usually am doing science-related work, though every once in a while we get a recreational dive. I mostly do invertebrate, coral, and fish transects (a transect is a survey of a given area of the reef.) Every Sunday and Wednesday I teach English to a variety of men and women who are training to become guides for tourists here in Anadavadoaka.   I also help all the Malagasy scientists here with their individual work and mini-expeditions (always a lot of fun).

It turns out that my sponsor organization does much more than marine science related conservation.   A few things they have gotten involved with is training guides, selling efficient wood burning and solar stoves (carbon offsetting), teaching
embroidery for women, family planning, scholarships for children in the school they built (based upon environmental awareness), and social economic surveys run by the Malagasy staff .   Overall, they are doing a fantastic job and I am very proud to be a part of the team.

On another note,  I have been doing great with my daily practices and I have fallen in love with the Artist’s Way.  I have realized that I truly get out what I put in, a lesson I have been taught all my life and have sort of half-assed realized in the
past.  Now, I feel a great sense of responsibility to fulfil my own desires and to live a full life.  I always feel so much better after a day when I accomplish more than I set out to do.  My strength as an individual has never been so clear to me.

Though doing solo internships during the spring semester, LEAPYEAR students post to a Yahoo group that allows them to share inspirations, and support one another during difficult times:

So I woke up this morning and realized that I am surrounded by beauty. It was especially sunny today but there are always giant fluffy clouds. In the mornings they tickle the tops of the mountains that surround the valley where I am.  Later they clear and I can see
the snowcapped peaks of the Andes from the open wall of one of the dirt floor huts I teach in. The children are adorable and I have surprised myself with how patient I have been in teaching the letter E for two days and counting.  My Spanish is getting better despite
the fact that my teacher keeps flaking.
Last night the English volunteers and I made pancakes which is a tradition in England and ate them with our Peruvian family. The family also just got a tiny orange fluffy kitten that always helps when I feel lonely.
The area I am in reminds me at times of India. All the families washing clothes and bathing in the dirty irrigation canals and living in little clay huts with dirt floors and open windows.  Pigs,
cows, donkeys, chickens and dogs run wild but there is a sad lack of llamas. Overall I am good for now though I miss you all terribly and I am often quite lonely.  I am worried that I will be really lonely in about two weeks when the other volunteers leave but hopefully more will come soon.

A report from a LEAPYEAR student who is studying Thai and Thai Boxing in Thailand:

Today’s training was packed with flying fists, kicks and sweat. It was the most intense day yet for me and it’s just the start. My knuckles are raw and I broke skin a bit on a couple of them. I wasn’t using gloves. I semi-enjoy the pain. But also the communal gloves they have here are nasty, sweaty and caked with grease. I need to buy a personal pair, I should have brought some from home. I don’t know why I didn’t.

This random short Irish guy (I think he was Irish) started showing me pointers while I was punching the bag and I think I understood about 60% percent of what he was saying. I seem to have trouble understanding other people here. It’s like a curse. He was a short fella
and apparently has been boxing for ten years. He showed me his left ear which had the top portion of it cut off. At one point he whipped out his cell phone and showed me some pictures of his last fight that he lost to this huge Thai in Chiang Mai. I made sure to listen to him cause
physically he looked like he knew what he was talking about, but I’m not so sure vocally. He lost his words a couple of times and just had to resort to demonstrating. Must have lost a few too many brain cells. He told me to emphasize punch combinations over kicking. He also told me to avoid grappling in a fight and to just push the opponent away. That’s why my knuckles are sore and red. Though my right foot is also tender. I’m getting faster and getting more stamina, which is very satisfying to experience.

The weather has been absolutely perfect and it seems like this is a vacation on these warm dreamy sunny days. Life is easy going here and the people are warm. I could live here. Oh wait, I am!

Man I’m going to be sore in the morning…..

Written by a LEAPYEAR India student during his first weeks in Varanasi - the “City of Light” on the Ganges:

The morning after my group arrived in Varanasi, we headed toward the ghat where a wooden rowing boat wobbled in the Ganges. I stepped into the boat as delicately as I could, not wanting to spill over.  The sun had yet to show itself, but I felt its presence behind the horizon. It was waiting to pounce on me, to erase the chilled haziness of night that still lingered heavily in my head. We were taken away by the current before my eyes could adjust themselves to the surrealness of the architecture, the river, and the children.  I saw old men brushing their teeth in the same waters that carried swollen dogs no longer breathing, and thought to myself; that is unconditional faith.

I remember having this type of egoless faith in my childhood, when I believed that god was everywhere at all times. Ironically, at this point at my life, after many years of rejection and spite toward religion, I’m beginning to suspect that god is everywhere at all times. What place does religion occupy in my life? It is beyond obvious that religion has stood behind many decisions that have heavily mapped out my life. I can be bitter when it comes to this subject, but at the same time, I can’t deny that religion harbors some of the most beautiful expressions of love I have ever witnessed. Religion is neither good nor bad; it can be just as thoroughly defended as it can be debunked. These words are meant to do neither, rather, they will consist of my observations and experiences and how religion offers perspectives that I have found essential to my growth.

There has been one major shift in my lifetime that was both beyond my control and the result of ripple-like decisions that were the result of dogmatic influences: my mother’s migration from Mexico to the United States. She was in many ways exiled by the people in her town for bearing a child out of wedlock.  A storm of whispers and judgments followed her everywhere she went. I can’t imagine being under such scrutiny, especially in a town where everybody knows everybody’s parents.  These judgments were largely (if not fully) fueled by the local Catholic Church.

That dust settled a decade and a half ago, but it led to me being raised outside my homeland. This has been bittersweet.  On one hand, I was better educated and have been blessed with endless opportunities to make myself rich (internally and externally), on the other; I grew up alienated and with an archetypal abusive stepfather.  I still hold a lot of anger and resentment towards my past, and many of the people who ran it.  I don’t think I was treated fairly or humanely by many people who are not my mother.  It is not something I wish to erase from my memory.  It is what it is, and it has made me who I am.  I’m only acknowledging that religion was as influential in my life as my birth.

Of course, religion has not only influenced my life negatively.  For example, the alienation that I felt during my childhood was indirectly created by the religious influences in my mother’s life, we’ve established that.  Ironically, religion also offered me ease and comfort when it came to these existential problems.  Religion was a bond between me and my mother.  Every night, before we went to sleep, my mother and I would spend half an hour reciting prayers so that god would protect us in our sleep.  It was a way of asking and a way of showing gratitude.  In many respects, religion was both a problem and a solution.

I was a very nervous and active child.  My imagination often terrorized me, and whenever I was caught in absolute darkness, I would repeat “God” over and over again to shield myself from all types of evil.  Whenever thunderstorms invaded my reality, I would run to my brothers and pray with them until the angels came and fought off the grey, looming menace.  Religion has many roles.  It comforts and it dictates.  It inspires love and hate.  It can be a shield and a sword.  It gives people structure, a reason to live and to die.

The people bathing, chanting in the Ganges seemed untouchable. It was a strange and beautiful experience. I felt like a phantom, like a branch flowing in the river, while natives blossomed around me, opening themselves, absorbing the enormity and splendor of the sun’s rays becoming one with the current. There had to be an unseen force at work. The architecture, the people, they were all too perfect. The sights spilled like ink, seeped through my consciousness, permeated my ego. The awe that I felt spread in my being, it was pumped into my veins and I became more aware. I breathed with vigor. Oxygen had never felt so good. Spirituality and romance was natural as well as vital in the atmosphere.

It was unsaid and true that neither the physical nor the spiritual could exist without the other in Varanasi, and I realize now, with absolute conviction and joy, that I died a little that morning.