Its Sunday night. I am sitting outside Starbucks with a venti vanilla soy roiboss latte (possibly the most ridiculous name for a milky cup of tea I have ever heard). Its balmy. HOT. No breeze. I am breaking a sweat just typing. I am on 5th (the main pedestrian drag here), children are running past playing, I can hear about six different songs playing from different restaurants and about the same number of conversations. Its sensory overload in the way you only ever really get in Latin America, which makes it oddly easy to concentrate on this and hear myself (as long as I don't get distracted or bitten to death by mosquitoes it should all be fine).
For the past few days things have been falling into place. Clicking. I am fitter and stronger and the yoga is getting easier. I have more energy. I am inspired again by the things I want to do here. A girlfriend and I are discussing starting a playa bikini line - something fun, simple and bright and cheap enough that you can buy a bunch of different tops and bottoms in a load of different colours. A playa bikini line for a playa girl and lifestyle. I AM INSPIRED. Everywhere I look and everything I touch is getting me excited. I want to start to make some beach cover up dresses - mainly because I have nothing to wear and cant find anything I want to buy. I presume I am not alone. Watch this space.
This week the occupation of wall street has hit the press. Who knew there was such animosity? I know this is a delicate subject but I do think it's one to be discussed especially as its a lifestyle I have rejected for one that is less conventional and more subversive (is that the right word?) perhaps alternative is what I mean. There seems to be a tremendous misconception that everyone who works or worked for a bank was greedy and exploited the system and caused the financial crisis. This is not the case. Most people who worked for banks were largely unaware of the situation in 2008 and have been tarred with the sins of a few. It's grossly unfair. More recently the sovereign debt crisis has been caused by politicians and their poor fiscal policy - not the bankers at all. Its the lack of basic knowledge of the general public that causes them to lay the blame on bankers. Get your facts straight. Understand what happened and what's happening before you protest. It just causes all credibility to be lost and the legitmate points that are being made by these protesters are lost in the banker-bashing speel. It saddens me. Also the jealousy and miserlyness of the general public towards bankers annoys me - most don't live hugely glamourous lives. Most work hard and have worked incredibly hard to get to where they are, dealing in concepts that the majority of people can't and couldn't dream of understanding. They get paid a TINY amount in terms of what they actually earn for the banks and moreover, the money trickles down. I am ranting. I didn't want to post about this. It's very interesting to see it from the outside. Note to self: must work harder at new age yogi detachment.... a LOT harder....and actually why am I so upset and defensive about this? Guilt?
So thinks have been clicking into place. I am starting to get a life here. Meet people. Feel like I belong. I am terrified of putting down roots until I have established the business though and a clearer idea of where I want to be and how things are going to work. Its actually interesting to observe. It seems like the more I am able to detach from things the more things work out. Better than I could have planned or thought of. Have you ever noticed how when you have let go of things, be it relationships, or expectations, the people come back to you, or situations work out? And some how faking the detachment doesn't work - I find this last point especially annoying as I am REALLY good at faking detachment about a situation.... even though I still REALLY care about the outcome. Reality check: perhaps I am not that good at faking it actually, perhaps and more likely, my friends are just kind to me...? (Answers on a postcard please.)
Today a person came back to me, or started to. A relationship that ripped me to pieces, spun me around, wrung me out, like being sucked under in the surf in a white out, so that when you eventually get out it takes a long time before you can figure out which way is up, how to breathe again, how to stand. One that dominated my life for two and a half years and caused so much destruction it beggars belief. I have moved on. I love the person. I care about them still, but actually for the first time, I am so happy with my life I don't mind what happens next. I am ready just to let it happen. This is huge for me. Detachment. It's beautiful.
And thank you to all my friends who are generous with me when I fake it.
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