Sacred Sunday stroll...

Buddhist Monk sitting on a bench 

Skipped out on morning practice because I wasn't feeling well. I walked the Chora this morning...a Chora is a circumambulatory walk done around Tibetan temples. Often there are prayer wheels that you turn as you walk that are built around the outside of the building. The Chora I walked this morning was a trail really. It was the Chora that surrounds the complex around the monastery, temple and home of the Dalai Lama. A walking meditation. It was unbelievably moving; watching as monks passed by in their crimson robes and old Tibetan grandmas and grandpas, one hand gripping onto canes, the other clutching their fingers around each little stone of their malas, breaths heavy, as they mumbled their mantras; families, kids tagging behind parents, dogs tagging behind owners, girls clasping hands or elbows; monkeys crossing the road or swinging from the trees, their families in tow as well; brightly painted rocks and tiles displaying mantras in sanskrit..a few loudly proclaiming "free tibet"; rows and rows of prayer flags waving in the wind..climbing up and up...the mountain landscapes of the Himalayas providing the backdrop for it all. It was overwhelmingly beautiful and overwhelming period.
I felt honored to be allowed to walk this path, to be a part of what was surely a daily ritual for many there that day. I felt the urge to make the sign of the cross.

Prayer wheels 

Growing up Catholic; that is my go-to instinctual religious move even though it has been years since the church was part of my life. I was incredibly religious as a child; talking to god all the time, praying and secretly loving going to church. By the time I finished college, I had learned too much about science and history and philosophy...about "the real world" to believe in a omniscient being who's purpose it was to create and judge.
But seeing another culture, another religion's reverence for the divine, I felt a new respect and connection with the ritual of celebrating the sacred, the unknown, the mystery. There is something about seeing everything in life as an opportunity to praise the fact of life and being alive. From waking up to eating to going to the bathroom...(seriously!) everything can be a practice for noticing and celebrating the divine. Maybe my divine isn't a god with a white beard floating on a cloud but those are merely details, totems, signposts, vehicles that try to explain not only why and how we are here but why as humans we even think about why and how we are here. Right now..for me...it doesn't matter why, I'm just grateful that I am here, right where I am.

A sea of prayer flags...if you look closely you might be able to spot a cow resting underneath them...

Are you there, Buddha? It's me Cristina...am I enlightened yet?

I would be lying if I said I didn't have expectations. I left everything behind for the better part of a year! Just me and the world...I imagined how each new place and experience would change me physically, mentally and spiritually into the person that I knew was inside me trying to break free. This was no mere "vacation"; I was on a vision quest!
And it seems like everyone around me supported this vision. I can't tell you how many people made references to the book/movie "Eat, Pray, Love". And although, I never saw it, I was on board...after all, most Julia Roberts movies have great happy endings. And even though I ate (Boy did I eat!) and prayed (in churches, cathedrals, mosques and temples) and even loved a little (a lady never tells!) as I arrive toward the end of my adventure, I feel quite ordinary...no worse...I feel the same. I'm still the same ball of nueroses I was before I began. And I gotta tell you, it's more than a little disappointing.
My first solo adventure was to Mali West Africa when I was 20. Barely out of my teens; I still saw myself as the shy fat girl that defined my self image during much of my youth. In Africa, I became a Nubian goddess. drumming and dancing 8hrs a day, I shed pounds and gained confidence. I did and saw things I never imagined. I came back changed.
Last summer, I found myself literally living in paradise yet feeling like I was trapped in a prison. Outside the sun was shining 360 days a year but I only noticed the rain. I remembered that time in Africa where I was focused and moving and happy. I wanted to recreate that feeling. So I went to Mexico and studied yoga and meditation for 8 hrs a day. I gained strength, lost weight and learned to stand on my head. I literally flipped my perspective and came back changed.
So...what gives?
Solo adventure...check.
Exotic locale...check.
challenging my body...check.
Transformation...uh...nope.
And maybe that's the lesson.
Maybe I have come to a place where I need to stop running toward the next adventure, the next once in a lifetime experience. Maybe this time I turn back and face that shy fat awkward girl. Because you know what? She's still there and still hurting and instead of taking her in my arms and squeezing her tight with love and compassion; I keep trying to change her.
As a dear friend, much much wiser than me said; I have got to make friends with that scared angry awkward judgemental girl inside of me and try to love that part of me that is kicking and screaming and raging against it all like an angst ridden hormonal teen.
I think my greatest adventure may be yet to come; that of being still and present and raw and broken. In a couple of weeks, I am literally "going home". I will be back in my parents house with no job, no obligations, only time. It's a place that scares me more than any foreign country ever could. But maybe, just maybe, it's a place where I can find my happy ending...