Please forgive the silence, dear reader.
It's been three weeks since we split up. Julie boarded the night train to Mumbai; I remained to haunt the beaches of Palolem.
The reasons are, of course, complex, the implications dramatic. There is much to say, and likely only more with the passage of time. But, apart from this post, this blog is not the place.
We spent our last day together walking the beach, holding hands, crying. Wishing each other well. For me, time has dragged slowly since her departure. I spent the first night in our room, newly cavernous and lonely. Now I am between Mars and Jupiter.
I'm in a tiny but well-appointed hut just off the beach that somehow missed the celestial naming conventions of the rest of the compound — "our only one for a single person" intoned the incredibly kind hotel manager. When he agreed to the rock-bottom price that I could justify for moving from the room we shared to this little hut near the beach, I nearly burst into tears and hugged him.
Between Mars and Jupiter is where the asteroids orbit, their mutual attraction perpetually thwarted by the meddlesome gravity of their environment. A ring of icy shards and rocky fragments where a whole complete world might have been, unseen sunsets and beaches of its own.
Between Mars and Jupiter, I have been oscillating between the supreme patience befitting a giant (no worries that my masala chai will take 30 minutes to deliver this morning) and the urgent desire to punch someone in the teeth (note to obnoxious laser-pointer wielding beach-combers: make sure your dental insurance policy is current). Thankfully, the warlike impulses have been subsiding thanks to the soft sand on my feet, the persistent wash of the waves and the time spent each day on my life raft in the shape of a yoga mat.
In addition to affording helpful time to focus and the visceral sense of being embodied that I love about the discipline, it's remarkable how much spending ninety minutes a day in yoga practice can release, and not just in the muscles and connective tissue. As the first waves of emotion about my new circumstances recede, the next waves of sadness, grief and uncertainty present themselves. I can only trust that with time these too shall pass. Or at least soften.
I've also been lucky to have found a group of fellow travelers in this place who help it feel much more like an interim home than a generic place to stay. (And, paraphrasing the sagacious George Latimer, "interim" is an unnecessary modifier, since in fact everything is interim, a notion reinforced many times in these travels.) My new friends were the first people I told about Julie and me, and it took weeks to feel ready to talk to the more permanent constellations in my life. (This is unusual — Julie and I are both lucky to have amazing people in our lives, and my instincts in times of drama usually lead me immediately to family and friends. This time, it seems, is different.)
I'm not planning any sudden moves. In fact, I don't have any plans except to let the yoga practice, the sand under my feet and the waves crashing on shore work their magic. I can only trust that whatever comes next will take shape in due course. In the meantime, I sit in my nameless little house, breathing and reflecting while time passes and the planets circle about.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
One in a billion
Posted by Eric at 7:00 AM
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Eric,
ReplyDeleteI ache for you both. I'm thinking of you and sending you such big hugs from so far away. Your yoga mat and the ocean sound just about the best way one could go through something as painful as you both are right now. With warmest regards.....
hey guys! Sorry about stuff. We don't get to choose when we get flat tires. They just happen. Flat tires aren't bad, just part of life. Feel good for the accomplishments and feel bad if you want to. Be comfortable with being human and being yourself. Take comfort in knowing that happiness can not exist without sadness. If you don't go for a drive out of fear of getting a flat tire, you will lose more than you ever will have. Feel lucky that god doesn't make fun of you - look around. She obviously has a sense of humor. Then when I put on my pants, I found a twenty dollar bill in my pocket. That was so rad. I love when that happens. I'm going to buy three ice cream cones. 1 for me, 1 for some kid or blue hair, and 1 to throw out the window while on the highway for the next asshole who sppeeds up on me when I put on my blinker.
ReplyDeletexoxoxo - Andre
Hey Eric,
ReplyDeleteYour resilience and adaptability have always inpired me and I am sure that you will again amaze us all. Can you put your hands together in the praying position behind your back yet? If you can do that then you can do anything. Then again, if you can do that then maybe you've been there too long?
I'm eager to read about what comes next for you. Take care of yourself Eric.
jon
Eric, many hearts are keeping you and Julie close as you struggle through this very tough time. I am so very sorry to hear of this news, and wish you both peace as you process.
ReplyDeleteI can't even imagine how it feels to be far from home & loved ones and hurting, but I'm glad you've found some peace in yoga, sand, ocean waves, the sun coming up each morning...there is always a new day, isn't there.
Much love across the miles being sent to you,
Tam
Oh Eric, I'm sorry to read what I just did. The exit scene sounds very loving, but carefully direct...sadness, much understanding here.
ReplyDeleteYou're very smart to sit and BE for the moment. And I'll tell you what...we're in the ugly part of Winter right now. The hardened gray ice chunks along the roadside...the tease of Spring that slaps you with another cold blast next thing you know. Stay where you are while you think. Let the warm world bring your insides back, let that next thing show itself.
We're all putting ourselves where you are and pulling you back up in our own ways.
Leesh