Waves of change

"Ellie, deja que la vida fluye," my Ecuadorian friend W always says to me. Let life flow. I agree with him but as we all know, it's not so easy to let go of control. Before I left my home in Quito, I wrote a post about feeling like I was drowning and a friend that I met in Thailand many years ago commented: "You will float, you will float, you will float". She wasn't wrong and her comment became my mantra whenever I felt myself sinking again, but I don't think she or anyone else could have imagined that it would take two whole years before I would once again trust the ocean enough to stop treading water and just... float. 

It wasn't until I actually went out into the real ocean a couple of weeks ago that I realized I've finally let go of the fight. I have stopped resisting the natural flow of things.

I was on a tour with a group of hikers and setting off in the beautiful hippie paradise called Caños de Meca, we hiked towards the coastal town of Barbate, stopping several times along the way to cool down with a dip in the ocean. Towards the end of our hike, I walked out into the water alone, distancing myself from the group. Out in the deep blue sea, I stretched out my arms and my legs to float on the waves, something I literally hadn't done for years. I have mostly gone to Finland in the winter and last summer, my only contact with water was freezing my toes off in the Atlantic ocean outside Portugal. The beaches in Ecuador are outstanding but there, the waves were too big to swim.

As I was floating around in the crystal blue water, I noticed that all the spaces in my body that used to be filled with something or someone now somehow seemed hollow. I also felt small, in a good way. We are but tiny drops in a vast ocean of uncertainty, but if we move with the waves of change, we may eventually end up where we are supposed to be. 

Due to the Covid-19 situation around the world, I am currently without a job and need to leave my apartment at the end of this month, without knowing where to go or what to do next. That's the thing about floating - it's basically drifting around with no destination.

What I take with me from Seville is a strong sense of community. I have always found support here, whether it's been in the form of friends, fellow hikers, yogis, colleagues, roommates, partners, or my church family. I have reached out for help and equally so, I have been the one to hold out a hand when someone needed me. For my first yoga class, I created a new mantra for myself and my students: I am safe. I am supported. I am loved. 

At the moment, I feel like circles are closing. I recently bought my last monthly pass at the yoga studio that has been like a second home to me for a year. Two months in Seville turned into twelve as I decided to stay and complete a yoga teacher training here and I have no regrets. Never have I dedicated so much effort into something that turned out to be equally rewarding. During the course, I came to understand that the true essence of yoga has very little to do with asanas; it is more about connecting to the breath, finding balance and recognizing the truth within ourselves. I learned how to awaken my senses, surrender to what is, and perhaps most importantly, to experience joy again. 

Even though there are some things, and some people, that I will probably never be able to let go of, I do feel like I have dropped some heavyweights and let them sink to the bottom. I no longer cling to anything or anyone, instead, I try to let things be and go with the flow. I now understand that acting often comes from a place of kindness whereas reacting is based on hurt. Using our breath to center ourselves can help us make a conscious choice between the two. 

If I wanted to label my experiences over the past three years, I could call them illness, shock, betrayal, anxiety, depression, distorted reality, grief, loss, posttraumatic stress... or I could turn things around and name them lessons in love, vulnerability and fear, overcoming, building courage, improving my health, healing and moving on.

The real question is, what happens if we drop all the labels? What remains? 

Maybe the best all of us can do this year is just to keep our heads above water. If we can remain above the surface and keep breathing, I think that is enough.