It Was Time to Go...To Goa

I came here to Goa one month ago knowing I needed to do internal work to strengthen my mind and shed myself of the collective ego portion of my brain.  I will always hold Nepal in my heart, but I can’t hold the longing for what is past and I can’t grieve forever.

What I can do is share my story.  When I came from Nepal my ego was full of voices.  Monkeys/noise/purpose/plans/pride…you name it.  I also left with a HUGE feeling of loss.  Loss of never having again what was honestly the best 2 years of my adult life.  I knew having to transition from that was going to be difficult.  I was not focused.  I was distracted, but I’m realizing now at the end of the program that my mind, body and soul is so much stronger, healthier and focused than I was when I left for Peace Corps.  I say focused but I don’t mean on a goal.  Focused on being peaceful; of just being who I am and loving that.

Who I was in Nepal was “Anjali”.  Although I love the name “Sarah” because my parents gave it to me, I have always disliked the fact that I was always one of many many “Sarahs” in any social situation.  The name “Sarah” is a combination of my mom’s initials “SA” (Sally Anderson) and my dad’s initials “RA” (Richard Anderson) and it will always be my given name, but because my experience was so positive in Nepal, I am more proud of and attached to the name “Anjali” now.  I have even considered changing my name officially.  It was given to me by the first Nepali family I lived with and means “hands full”.  

I sobbed during the 1st or second ending of the meditation when we were told to chant our names while walking.  I chose to chant “Anjali”.  As I walked, I could feel my body fight to say the name through the tears.  As I heard myself chanting the name, it felt like an out of body experience.  It was as if I was in the body of every family and friend I had met in Nepal and was trying to call to myself, but unable to because I had left Nepal and was unsure of when I would ever return.  As I was calling to myself, I felt myself disconnecting farther and farther from them.  Luckily, I had the perfect guru/coach to encourage me to let it out.  He was sympathetic and respectful of my situation.  He kept saying “Let them come out.  Let them speak.”  By the 5th day, I was singing my name and getting bored of the drill.  

My heart and mind had strengthened.

Owning my new sense of closure, I threw my mind into the philosophy and meditation classes.  To understand the pronunciation of the Hindi and Sanscrit words better, I was asking the instructor to check my devanagari script handwriting.  Something in my subconscious was telling me I didn’t want to forget the language.  Better yet, I wanted to learn Hindi.  

Hindi is very similar to Nepali, and pretty much all of the youth age 3-20 speak it.  Funny how now as a 32 year old, I consider a 20 year old to be “youth”, but that’s beside the point.   The only way I’ve heard of people learning Hindi is from TV.  Not liking any of the Hindi TV shows that I have seen so far, and having a somewhat deeply rooted anger against India for bullying Nepal after the earthquake by refusing to provide petrol, I proudly admitted to people that 

“No, I don’t speak Hindi.”  

However, being here in in the South of India, and spending time with people who speak not only Hindi, but the local language Konkani, I’ve enjoyed picking up on words here and there that I understand.  I have been spending my evenings at a local restaurant on the beach called the “Mariposa” (Spanish for Butterfly) and have been enjoying listening to Hindi as well as speaking Nepali with the staff.  There are many staff who come here from Nepal to work.  All guys.  Makes me miss my Nepali girlfriends, but hey…guys are funny and entertaining.

I have also discovered that my own entertaining skills have come to very good use.  About a week ago, I was walking by the Mariposa restaurant with my friend and the manager asked if we wanted drinks.  My friend wanted juice and they didn’t have that, but I asked him if I could fire dance that night for a free meal.  He was more than happy to allow me to do that and I enjoyed a cup of tea, studied for my yoga course exam, then enjoyed a fancy table for one with my feet in the sand.  The live music was fun to listen to and I got up and fire danced both before and after my meal of calimari and king prawn.  So delicious.  I had so much fun that I invited some friends from the yoga course to join me later that week on Thanksgiving day for another show.  The manager really enjoys having me around and part of me wishes I didn’t have to leave.

However, the winds of change are calling me home.  I look forward to the holidays and spending time in the arms of my mom and dad once again.  It has been one year and 3 months since seeing my family which is the longest time I think I have ever been away.  I will miss Goa, but something tells me it’s not my last time here.  The spirit of relaxation, combined with a growing yoga culture makes it tempting to return and teach some day.  For now, I am thankful to be returning home with a 200 hour yoga teacher training certificate, a clear mind, open heart, and cast iron soul.

How to climb a tree in Goa...with a harness and metal stand that you inch up the tree.

The food was very similar to what I ate in Nepal every day.

Me practicing by teaching the teacher

My guru Jagjeet Sing

The Words that Come When I Have Nowhere to Run

This Little Light of Mine

The mind that believes the truth is blind
Open your soul and you will feel the sublime.
Take in the sights and smells and breeze.
The world can feel like one big tease.
If you are aware of the past, but can stay in the now.
You'll realize that truth lies below the brow.
Below the thoughts and words and sights.
Let it come out
The world needs to see your lights.

Slave to the Self

The slave of another can be free in the mind.
They are not wanting, or needing.
They can have freedom of focus and peace.
But sometimes it takes a little elbow grease.
Who is the master?
Show me the woman/man
who walks their path with an open plan.
Open to change; they do not attach upon.
Absent of the ego; the mind is calm.
Above all it's known there is always something going on
In the mind, or body, or earth, or space.
For this there is a time
For that there is a place.
I hope we can walk together in this snail race
Because I want to leap, I want to skip, but without you
I loose my grip.
On what it is to be human
and...
me?
Of this, I feel, we all agree.

What the Heart Hides

200 hours to love
200 hours to heal the heart
A bandaid was not enough
It had to be broken, then torn apart
To really find out what was hidden inside
Underneath layers of ego and pain
Was a seed of passion I could not tame
Passion for adventure, knowledge and the new
I planted that seed, and watched as it grew
Growing as a flower stretches toward the sun
My life burst forth
It had nowhere to run.
I am home now inside this heart
And of this I know...
I am always at the start.

Midnight Dreams

Nothingness can be scary.  The idea of being alone.  Of not fitting in.  Of isolation.  The mind thinks it needs “noise”.  If someone comes from a family where they always had people around, the emptiness can be unsettling.  Emptiness of the mind.  Emptiness of the physical luxuries.  If isolated in the jungle, some lash out and destroy the harmless ants, animals, trees, and humans around them because they don’t trust the earth.  

They 

are 

vulnerable.  

People don’t believe that vulnerability is a strength.  Some predators take advantage of vulnerability.  In our day and age, men are conditioned to be predators.  To take if they think the person wants to be taken.  Sharing a cup of tea that was never offered.  What they don’t know is that it harms themselves in the end.  They are the fearful ones.  The scared, the one who is too weak to deal with internal demons alone.  

In a loving environment, a baby bird fallen from the tree gets saved.  The plant with no water gets rain.  The mother with no children gives birth.  Life is created and people aren’t afraid of death.  Death is just change.  Rebirth.  What in our subconscious helps that change be realized?  Hope.  Hope dies with layers of noise.  Layers of people and mazes and puzzles saying:

“That’s not possible.  That’s not what the scientist, doctor, God, mother, father wants;  therefore it is wrong.”

That scientist/doctor/God/mother/father needs validation.  Whether it be money, prayers, devotion.  You feel guilty and shamed not giving them that.  If you don’t, then everything you knew is wrong.  Flipped.  Questioned.  

Vulnerable. 

But what if that chain of doubt and fear is reversed?  What if we saved that baby bird?  Gave that tree/bird/child/mother/father/people/country hope?  The present moment is the death of the past and the beginning of a new.  Resurrect your dreams, share the tea…but do it in peace and love.  Do it without reservation.  Do it with strength.  It’s your choice. 

The Waves of Transition

The Transition

As I stand on the shore of a new chapter in my life, I have been reflecting, lamenting, and visioning my past life in Nepal and the new path I will walk.  It has been a truly eye opening journey the past few weeks here in Goa, India on the shores of the beautiful Agonda beach.  I have had the privilege of time to see my life's dreams clearly and what I see I am liking more and more.  

Here are some poems that I have been writing here:

The Temples We Seek

We all seek to follow rules and are fearful of the breaking
Our temples made of walls create a safe place to be absolved of sin.
When the bubble breaks and our temple falls we feel sad.
Do not mourn the image of perfection.
The perfection exists in rebirth and change.

Youthful Dance of Love


Paradise is something you think in your head.Maybe brought to you by a book you read?
As a child, you danced and set that dream free.
Joyfully believing that someday it would just be.
Then people and places and noise from the ground came rushing to your toes.
You dance around them and try to stay calm.
Your life you hold in the center of your palm.
Look at your palm and see the love it receives.
You know, you know and everyone agrees...
That love is not love unless it is shared.
Choose wisely my friend and do not be scared.


The Sound of My Heart Upon the Shore

Our bodies crash with the beat of our heart like waves upon the shore

Coliding, combining, evermore… evermore

My soul is dry as sand without your wave to beat my heart

Crash and beat… then fall apart

The day my heart is set free the waters are calm

No pain of the beat, your wave rushed upon

my shore with her shells and her stars and her trash

Please let my heart beat like a shore with no crash

You think you are helping the beat of my life

But I want calm waters 

With little to no strife

So lay yourself down upon this heart I uphold

Lie over me softly; my life I unfold

My Final Day as a Nepal Peace Corps Volunteer

TODAY is my last day as a Nepali Peace Corps Volunteer.  I went to the office and had my ID card punched through with a hole.  I am free...

Here is a journal entry from exactly one week ago in my village:

10/21/16

Today I was honored at the District Office (Alital VDC, Dadeldhura, Nepal) for my 2 years of service.  Sir told me to arrive at 12:30pm, so I did.  Then I had to be patient and wait through a 2.5 hour meeting about indicators that the government had set for our VDC.  The Female Community Health Volunteers talked about how many households reported on the different indicators.  Honestly, I was 1/2 sleeping through most of it.  Then, sir talked about me.  I busted out the video recorder on my phone like a true narcissist and took in the love.  He talked about how I went home two times.  Once after the earthquake and once for my brother Nathan's wedding.  He mentioned how I walked all over the VDC for my job and worked in the food security sector.  He mentioned how I selected mother's groups and did a mushroom project, about how I helped my family and about the 3 goals of Peace Corps.  I also held an English class and was not allowed on motorcycles.  I don't like motorcycles anyways, so that was OK with me.  Sigh...parting is such sweet sorrow.

I tried to teach many people in my village about how to grow vegetables, trees, etc., but if there is one thing that Nepalis' know how to do it's grow a lover.  Grow a person that is focused on family, protecting each other, loving each other and hands down, pitching in anything you can do to help a friend or family member carry out his or her dream.  Friends literally are family here.  I am leaving feeling like dreams can come true.

I miss my family and the winds of change are calling me home.  I've been blessed to have the freedom to dance by the rhythm of my own soul and share my dance with others.  To those who listened carefully enough to my messed up, backwards Nepali-I touched.  I understood that many of them might not have been able to receive my language, so I tried to do acts of service such as giving and planting trees.

If I were to measure my success the way Peace Corps tries to do it (measurements like how many people did you teach x, y, and z to), it would not be accurate.  Just yesterday, I went to see how many trees were still surviving after we planted them at the school and about 3 of the 20 are still there.  One got ripped out because a kitchen was built, many of them didn't get watered during the dry season, etc, etc.  This is not my success.

My success and privilege was time.  Time to open my hands and heart.  Time to have countless glasses of tea with friends.  Time to observe:

1.  3 successful litters of kittens born by my sweet sweet cat June.
2.  2 monsoon seasons which came with different diseases every time.  The first year I got erythema nodosum and couldn't walk.  I was hospitalized for a week on IV antibiotics.  The second year I got two gnarly infections.  One on my hand and one on my toe.  
3.  2 MANGO seasons!  Yum
4.  5 visitis and 3 swims in my village's sacred lake named "Alital".  Trekkers welcome!
5.  3 visits from honored guests of the office.  Two from the country director, one from our director of programing and training, and one from a government inspector general right after the earthquake (who I was assuming would be super intimidating but was actually very kind, balanced and receptive to feedback.)
6.  3-5 memorable pig meat feasting events.  One was a wedding, others were at my neighbor friend's house where it was always accompanied by local rice wine, beer, or vodka.

What do I go home to?  I have been showing pictures of my family to everyone here.  Thanks to my mom, I have 2 beautiful Christmas cards that I've been carrying around.  I told people in my speech today that I am going home for them.

Here is the rest of my speech...

My time here in Alital is coming to a close, but the memories I have made will last me a lifetime.  I will never forget all of you and how you have stood behind me and helped me in every endeavor I have undertaken.  In the US, I worked as a Veterinary Technician for 5 years.  I woke up around 11am, went to work at 3pm, and came home around 2am.  I wore the same uniform every day and was part of a machine.  I slept, and repeated the cycle everyday.  I got bored.  I came here to experience something new, to help contribute to the community, to learn your culture, and to teach my own.  Each day has been different.  Sometimes I would plan something, and have that plan not work, so I would try plan B, if that didn’t work, there was a plan C.  The day did not always go as I had originally planned, but I think I accomplished what I came here to do.  I can say that the past two years have been the best two years of my life that I can remember so far.  It is hard to walk away from that, so I won’t say good bye, but see you again soon.

Take your friend’s, lover, partner’s hand in strength, love, and peace.  Love can save the wold.

Thank you for making me feel welcome.  To see my soul look towards the moon.  You have made my heart like a diamond.  

Namascar

________________

As this chapter in my book comes to a close, I can only imagine, and am lucky to have the gift of imagining the future.  Wherever I walk, I hope there are gardens, wildflowers and the sound of crickets.

"For this is what America is all about.  It is the uncrossed desert and the unclimbed ridge.  It is the star that is not reached and the harvest sleeping in the unplowed ground.  Is our world gone?  We say "farewell".  Is a new world coming?  We welcome it."  - Lyndon B. Johnson

When the Heart becomes Home

Written October 18

Home

When you’re young, home is where your mother is.  It’s where you get your milk and if you’re lucky like I was lots of love, affection, songs and smiles.  If you’re lucky it’s also where your supportive dad is who does everything and anything in his power to make sure his wife and kids are fed, happy, focused, and free to make their own decisions.  

Then you grow up and move around and realize that your “home” begins to become restructured.  It turns into a frame of mind that you carry with you.  In college, home is still where your mom is usually, or girlfriend/boyfriend maybe.  But love hurts and people change and it’s hard when you want to attach to something so bad that ultimately becomes fleeting and temporary.  

Eventually you realize that your home is not in your head, but carried with you at all times.  Your home becomes your heart.  Your center.  Your being.  It’s up to you who you want to invite into that home.  Hopefully you have learned what types of people/places/situations make your heart sing, and which make it die.  Listen carefully.

Temptation can arise when you realize that you missed out sometimes.  Maybe you feel guilty for leaving someone who you know could have loved you to the end of the world and back and you try to return to them only to find them moved on, or still yearning for something that has already died.  Then one day, you realize that the circles of madness must end.  The earth hickups and quakes, and you realize that what you had been wanting has been standing in front of you the whole time waiting.  Maybe you put him/her there on purpose and maybe they found you on their own.  Suddenly, you realize you are gazing at your soul's reflection in a still pond.  The earth is quiet, peaceful, and feels like…home.

I came, I biked, I conquered.

I once saw a t shirt with a picture of a snail riding on a turtle’s back saying “Weeeeeee!”  I was reminded of that cartoon on my bike ride, as I passed a snail in the road about halfway through.  Riding my bike felt like I was going faster than walking, but I was definitely a snail compared to the big rigs and busses flying by.  

The ride took 8 days.  Up until the 7th day we were one day ahead of schedule and my friend Garrett had hopes that we could arrive in KTM one day early.  However, we arrived at the base of the biggest hill of the trip around noon on the 6th day and if we were to have started the hill at that time it was not guaranteed that we could find lodging along the way.  I advocated for spending the day where we were in Hetauda not only because of the lodging issue but because my left knee was hurting.  Luckily, one of the Peace Corps staff who grew up in Hetauda recommended to Garrett over the phone that we stay the night there.  

The next day one of the hardest, and most memorable days.  We started the day at 6 am and as we cycled out of Hetauda, I noticed many Nepali’s out on morning walks.  Never in my 2 years have I seen so many Nepali people out exercising for fun/fitness as part of a daily routine.  Nepali’s get up early for many reasons…to milk the cow, to cut grass for the cow, to wash dishes, to cook food, to fetch water, etc. but it was rare to see people out on morning walks in a city where foreigners were a fairly rare site.  These people all had jobs in offices, not fields.

It took us 7 hours to reach the top of the hill to a place called Simbhanjyang at 2488m.  Towards the top of the hill I noticed my asthma acting up.  It usually only acts up when I am exercising in extreme situations and I think the altitude combined with the extreme exertion caused it to happen.  Once we reached the top, it was amazing what a temperature change there was at the higher elevation.  I was shivering not only because it was misty and cold, but because I was drenched in sweat.  

After reaching the top and having two portions of “daal bhaat” (lentils and rice), we started the long decent.  The downhill made every moment of the long uphill worthwhile!  As I flew downhill, I blew my whistle to alert people and cars in front of us to move out of the way.  I felt a lot like a bike police and began to enjoy asserting myself as such.  

It was always a little more dangerous around 3-4pm when school got out and the 7th day downhill was no exception.  As we came around a corner, I blew my whistle I kept around my neck as usual and noticed a girl in a school uniform hear the whistle, then pick up her food plate and make a bolt for the other side of the road with her head down right in front of us.  Garrett was ahead of me and couldn’t stop his bike in time to avoid her.  He tried to pass in front of her, and she tried to pass in front of him and they eventually collided.  Luckily, she didn’t fall to the ground and the only damage seemed to be a grease mark on her school uniform.  Everyone observing could tell that it was her fault, and after hearing her family reprimand her in a language we couldn’t understand, we continued on our way.

We arrived in Naubise on the 7th day just as it was getting dark.  Naubise is just 27.5 km from Kathmandu and Garrett had a crazed, greedy look on his face like he wanted to continue riding into Kathmandu that night.  I intervened.  

“Garrett, do you know the story of Titanic?”  I asked.  “The captain wanted to arrive in New York ahead of schedule and you know what happened to them, right?”  Lets just call it a night and head out at first light tomorrow morning.

So that’s what we did.  I couldn’t sleep that last night.  I kept having nightmares and flashbacks of big rig trucks rolling down mountains and coming around a corner right in my face.  By 5:30 am we were on the road and heading up the last uphill toward Kathmandu.  I was actually pleasantly surprised by the respectful speed that the busses and trucks passed us.  I put on my bike police hat and pushed forward.  

As we started the downhill into the valley, it started to lightly rain.  To my delight, the Prithvi Highway was full of mud and we cycled through it, splashing mud all over ourselves.  It was such an adrenaline rush that I hadn’t expected!  That last day was more of a high than I have ever felt in my life… more than skydiving.  It’s probably due to the fact that I had suffered through the past 8 days to earn the reward of riding into Kathmandu.

Garrett and I decided to celebrate our finish by eating something we couldn’t find anywhere but Kathmandu…fancy foreign baked goods!  I had a cupcake and Garrett had a slice of cake.  After that, we headed to the Peace Corps office, took pictures and pressure washed our bikes down.  

I was honestly surprised by the fact that I had completed the trip.  Before leaving, it seemed like an interesting challenge, but I gave myself about a 70% chance of actually making it all the way with no bike, or health issues stopping me.  I was lucky to have Garrett as my teammate.  I could handle the hills ok, but on the long straight aways I hid behind Garrett and drafted as much as possible.  Garrett also has a very mellow, chill personality which was a nice balance to my more irregular moods.  He even gave me a pep talk or two!

Thanks to all of you who donated to my fundraiser!  I was so happy to have your support.

Head to my Facebook page to see pictures!  https://www.facebook.com/sarah.anderson.37604?fref=ts