nicaraguan rituals: silence, noise, silence.

The most important things are the hardest to say.

The following is a rambling tale on giving and receiving.

The heartspeak we learned together in Nicaragua, an unfamiliar language, is so hard to articulate with words.

What we say are words like processing. Intense. When really, there is only noise into silence. And simply more noise into more silence.

This existence is just that.

From the shadows of myself, I now tally up what our souls received during the light of each poignant day.

Discovering together, we took in the new humid climate, the colourful environment, the harsh poverty, the dear new families, the healing ocean soaks. We presented ourselves with attributes of presence, curiosity and  friendliness but did not leave unscathed.

The blessings that showered over our group were tender and deep. I find it hard to say.

We left with fragmented sleeps and upset bellies. We left with the strong medicine of joyful nights and kisses from the sun.

I took in all of your beautiful moments (the ones you may not have even known you were receiving); your keen ability to listen to the sounds of ocean, loveable guard dogs, fishing boats coming to shore, hammocks swinging below, baby parrots singing bueno.

Those 75 minutes without sight that morning will forever ring in our ears…

Receiving. There is more – in circle, in journaling, in lathering our sweet selves with coconut oil, in the fierceness of mother and her waves, in the rainbow across still waters on our final day – and even more that is hard to say.

From that noise I move closer to silence.

Lastly, what I offered up and received in return.

My truest self was all I could possibly give (you already had a hunch).  I gave you my process, my most loved moments, my honesty, my seriousness about transformation. I gave you space for it to happen. I gave us the chance to be lifelong friends.

I gave the salt water back to the ocean, out of my nose and out of my mouth after hours of splashing and surrendering to her rhythm. I gave salty tears to our yoga deck in thanks for all that I do not know, for the one I love, for all others I fall deeper in love with and for the simple miracle of being alive, of volunteering, of sharing, of silence.

What I received is the hardest. It embeds itself so quietly into regions of myself I continue to meet in surprise each day.

Perhaps I received a stronger relationship to the one heart we all share. Perhaps I received fuel and inspiration to run more freely and openly through life – with simple gratitude and binding friendships.

Our bond is evident.  The opportunities for space and shifts became a vast blur.  And we did not shrink back.

Into silence with my cherished memories.

Posted on October 21, 2014 and filed under …musings....