When I left my thatch roof bungalow early this morning for my daily workout, I noticed an enormous snail that had suctioned itself to my front door, lazily plugging along, its delicate fingerlike antennae searching the warm, moist morning for something, a sign, a vibration on the air….
I noticed him there all day long, as I welcomed my three clients into the “riverside spa” … (“We have a gorgeous view of the river!”) … (“Hey, wow! This is great!”)
And so I rubbed three people and discovered the magic of whatever that snail must have been searching for, his sensitive membranous skin like the moist surface of my drum when it got wet from the rain after this morning’s yoga class, where I chanted the mantra to Ganesha, the elephant God who removes all obstacles.
“This mantra,” I told my two ladies in class, “is from the ancient tradition of using sound vibration to heal the body and mind and to harmonize the energy around and within us.”
I think the snail could hear me and was swaying his antennae to the rhythm.
At the end of class, I suggested, “Feel your connection to the Earth. Then take a moment to consider your connection to the plants and animals in this jungle. It’s a special place… feel the presence of the river, the trees, the insects, the birds… Breathe.”
As the snail breathed through its thin layer of skin….
“What made you move to Belize?” was the resounding question asked by all three of my clients as they first laid down on my massage table today. I notice myself bracing for the answer, not quite sure how I should — or if I even want to respond. I get the question often enough….
These friendly, “getting to know you” kinds of curiosity-motivated questions have become a daily ritual, albeit slightly annoying (only because I feel obligated to answer, and usually my answer is not so simple. It required a thoughtful response….)
After dodging a few of the more superficial niceties so typical of human interaction, I learned that one of the women I massaged today happens to be a schoolteacher with the very school I recently interviewed for a teaching position that would start in September of 2017.
“It’s nice to have options,” I found myself writing to a friend. “Most women down here don’t even have the choice to work anywhere but at home or doing the dishes at some local restaurant for very little pay….”
(I remind myself to be grateful for what I have, for where I come from, for what I am able to do….)
“You should be thankful that you have fully functioning limbs,” one of my too-smart-for-his-own-good friends told me with severity, after I had lamented to him all the ways I feel so sorry for myself. “You don’t have any problems compared to a lot of the people I know.”
I suppose it’s all relative. The teenager living in the garbage dump.
I asked one of my clients, a middle-aged man from Anchorage, Alaska, about his opinion on climate change. “Are the polar bears wandering into the towns and terrorizing people?”
He had the conservative viewpoint that in the grand scheme of things, we really don’t know what is causing climate change (“Is it just natural cycles or is it manmade? How can we really know?”) … rub, rub … I think he was reeeeally relaxed by the time he made that comment. Like, hell, what do we have to worry about? We’ll all be fiiiiiine.
I know other scientists and researchers who hold a very different opinion on climate change. Like, we’re all gonna die in 10 years. That kind of urgency.
That’s part of the reason why I decided to move to Belize. Maybe my then-husband and I could have a shot at survival while the shit hits the fan and everyone living in industrialized nations are suffering from heat waves, natural disasters, unprecedented chaos and breakdown of society (especially the economy) … Was it a good idea to move down here?
Not a bad idea, it would seem. Food security, self-sufficiency, tiny house movement … These are all buzz words in the alternative media and the fringe communities of weirdos like me who want to take a shot at living an alternative lifestyle — Hey, why not? Before the shit really hits the fan.
The ceiling fan swirled and circulated the air in my thatch roof bungalow riverside spa while my clients received their massage, until a surprisingly pleasant and refreshing wind blew itself through the room, finding its way without obstacle through the screen windows and against the oily limbs, backs and necks of those three people, tourists from other countries, coming to the tropical jungle of southern Belize for vacation, to explore, to discover… to heal….
Just before bed, I looked outside for the snail. He had released his grip on my front door and was meandering across my Welcome mat. Welcome home.
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