On Learning to Chill the Eff Out

I suck at vacations. For all the travel that I do, I am actually really, really bad at vacationing. There is a big difference between the two: travel elicits that rush of adrenaline, of rushing to catch your flight, the thrill of stepping out of the airport into a new city, completely unsure of the language, whether you’ll be able to get transport to your hotel, if you even HAVE a hotel booked. I love that. I love the idea of embarking on a new and wild adventure, of stepping out into the Unknown and embracing all the insanity of the moment. Absolutely nothing makes me feel more alive.

What I hate are the idle hours that follow once you’ve settled in. The actual time meant to be enjoyed on said trip – the vacation as opposed to the physical act of travel. The time not filled exploring – the empty afternoons where normal people would siesta or lounge by the pool, but my crazy ass self can’t possibly fathom. Josh drops into this so easily, and I get so mad at him for it. Really, it’s jealousy. Because all I feel if I’m not on the move is guilty and restless. Like I am not using all of this time perfectly. I have an acute sense of feeling like I am wasting time and not living every moment to its fullest when I am sitting and soaking up quiet and peace. So instead of recharging and relaxing and embracing the amazing gift of time that vacation brings, I fight it and wonder how to fill it and then feel guilty that I am not enjoying it.

What. The. Hell. I am a lunatic. I hear it, trust me.

This push-pull of feeling like I need to always be on the run usually lasts a few days, and then we usually do something “productive” – take a boat ride or a cooking class or go for a hike, and I feel slightly placated. I can relax a little then, feeling like some productivity has been achieved. I might even stop sneaking furtive glances at my work email for a day or two 🙂 But inevitably it starts all over again, this guilt at not striving, creating, achieving, being plugged in, 100% of the time.

In complete opposition to this, my alter-ego on the mat has changed substantially since I’ve had surgery. My practice is actually in a place to slow down. It takes its time, feeling things out, going slow, and is incredibly content with simple movement. There isn’t so much strive in my practice anymore as much as thrive. I do what feels good. End of story. (This is very new to me. I am – almost – completely unattached to a physical accomplishment in my practice these days. If I feel better when I get off my mat than when I got on it, regardless of what I’ve done, it’s a success.)

My daily reminder to just be 🙂 #workingonit

I was contemplating this on the upper patio of our hotel the other night, gazing out at the ocean just before sunset in a rare moment of contentment, when this jolly, red-faced, French-Canadian gentleman came up to the patio as well. He told me he’d been coming to Puerto Escondido for 28 years, back when it was all lush virgin forest and sandy beach and huge waves and nothing else. He said he’s been all over the world and he is continually drawn back to this slow, sleepy, lazy stretch of sand and surf for exactly the reasons that make my skin crawl.

“You just have to slow down,” he said. Like he could see into my brain and knew exactly how I feel about “slow.” It’s a damn 4-letter word in my world. “You slow down and let Puerto come into you.” In other words, you don’t fight it. You embrace it. You let go of the bustling, of the working, of the industrious striving for…what? I don’t actually know. But I knew as I listened to him that I needed to let go of the guilt that is inextricably tied to contentment in my brain…and simply be.

So I’m letting the waves wash over me, the sun beat down on me, and I’m enjoying the slow, simple pleasure of good food, a perfectly colored sunset sky and the feeling of my hand in the hand of the person I love most in this world. With no agenda, with no attachment…I’m just breathing it all in, breathing it all back out into the universe…and savoring the moment. In this case, I guess my practice is actually inspiring my life. Which is really what it’s all about anyway.