I cry.

My experiences have felt so fragile this last month that I have retreated into myself. It's become increasingly difficult to externalize where I am on my path, as sometimes I am not sure I have a clue. Thus, the silence. Oh, the silence has been good to me... I'd rather be silent than dishonest, or insincere, I think.

On my plane to Perth, Australia, a little girl wailed the entire flight. It was anything but a cry. It was as if this two years old girl was mourning death; loud, piercing, aching screams. At times I became frightened, and closed my eyes and reminded myself to breathe deeply. Her wails made it seem like the metal we were in was descending, like she might know something.

I don't think I have ever heard a child cry like this - and certainly not for three hours straight. Her throat must have been raw, and I know crying can be exhausting. While it became familiar and less alarming, I began to observe the sounds with a sense of curiosity. What compels a child to cry like this? I don't think she was in physical pain. Her parents didn't seem stressed, just really really really amazingly patient and calm. Maybe she was processing something, maybe it was an expression, maybe her ears were popping and the pressure in her head was unfamiliar.

I started to think about crying. I have so much ego around crying. I've been working hard on getting past that for years, y-e-a-r-s, because my intellectual side understands that holding back my emotions is not healthy for my spiritual anatomy. However, it's so, so, so freaking challenging. Whether we recognize the unfortunate affect it has on us, our society favours the concept of strength vs softness. We confuse courage with picking up arms, and cowardice with laying them down.

However, that is a learned concept. It's a construct of external conditioning. And because babies and young children have yet to grasp this concept, there is no shame around it. They wail, they sob, they release. And since I believe that at birth we are closer to our elevated selves, I wonder if there is something to this. I wonder if we, as adults, could also benefit from wailing, sobbing, crying - more often. I think about all the times I swallow my tears, or my hurt, or my pain, and I wonder now ... where in my body did you go pain, hurt, and un-cried tears?What organ, what part of me now carries this burden?

Turning 27, on the road.

Intellectually, I understood that a sense of loss was inevitable, but never could I have predicted the ache and longing that I sometimes feel for home and/or the souls that define home. The irony is that one of (the many) reasons I ventured off was because a tiny seed in me never quite felt AT home. With each sunrise, I became increasingly reluctant to grow roots, and thrive, period. Envision the molasses, the thickness of the stagnancy.

To not wilt, I had to leave.

Yes, here I am, putting the overbearingly private facet of my cosmic personality to the side to say: I royally MISS; sometimes there is such an overwhelming sense of longing that the ache almost seems unbearable – especially when I feel all too far removed from everything and everyone. The lessons I am learning are real, raw, and ruthless - one can certainly come at me with a million cliché sayings; knock yourself out in the comments, if you fancy. I’ve already considered and meditated on them all, and am slowly treading from an understanding-self to a knowing-self.

Needless to say, deep inside I was somewhat rattled of the idea of being away from everyone, as I turned, you know, old-er. [ha-ha] I feared I would unwillingly become engulfed by loneliness. But there you all were.

There you all were!

I certainly don’t favor crying in public, but there I was, at some random Japanese restaurant in Bali, face flooded with salty tears, as all of you showered me with love. In all sincerity, I was an emotional storm, a hot mess - thundering with sadness that all of you were not with me, yet simultaneously lighting up and exploding with pure happiness to be able to see all of your bright faces. I was beyond surprised, and it was the BEST surprise. Best surprise I think my heart has ever felt.

I am so grateful for every single one of you. Mami Rudite, Dadi Jim, Tommy, Farfar Tom and Farmor Karen, Vecteev Alfons un Vecmamma, David, Emmie, Shanti, Frankie, Michael, Jess, Jessica, Woo, Shahrazad, Kelly, Kamille, Rasmus, Simon, Natalie, Courtney, Kristiine, and Tanja. 

Thank you for making, yes, m.a.k.i.n.g my life, for loving me, and accepting my love.Lionda, not even Kings have what we have. It is precious. It is irreplaceable, I am grateful and I vow to nurture it with utmost care for the rest of my life. Paldies par vakardienu, un katru dienu, dupsis fruktis.

Bali, Indonesia

Photo Credit: Lionda Liepina

"I was in the pool today, by myself, with not a soul around - head throbbing, hung over because I think last night I had a beer for every worry... and I was playing with this plumeria that had fallen into the water ... Playing, twirling it around, dizzy, falling under its spell ... And for a moment, I was there, truly there, magnificently present, in a pool, in Bali, Indonesia, living out the last days of being 26 - my biggest worries being uncertainty and finances, which are two things most people, everywhere, generically, feel burdened with... Even somewhere at a sterile grocery store behind the Orange Curtain. And in that moment I remembered how fucking okay, how fucking beautiful everything is. But those moments, like waves, come and go. That capacity to see past the bullshit, and see the truth; life as it is, without the veils, is there. But I don't want to just go there from time to time, I want to practice and one day, be IN that space every waking, every breathing, pulsing moment of my life."

An excerpt from an e-mail I sent to a friend recently. I think it sums up my experience, and my yoga practice, in this moment in life, rather adequately. And that's that. Cheers.

Fireproof

The National - Fireproof (Unofficial Video) from David Dean Burkhart on Vimeo.