Staying in the fire

"Don't be so scared." My new yoga teacher is encouraging me to stretch my boundaries and take more risks. "Allow me", he says and pulls me up into the tallest shoulder stand that I have ever been in. "If we don't know what's going to happen", he addresses the other students in the room while holding onto my legs, "why should we worry?" With my feet in the air, my head on the ground and my balance a bit wobbly, this seems easier said than done, but I allow the thought to simmer. 

I have been in Seville, the heart of Spain and the birthplace of flamenco, for about two months now and I live on a charming little street called "Sol" (the Spanish word for 'sun'), although sometimes I think I may actually be living on the Sun. Temperatures rise to nearly +40C every day and the only way to put up with the heat is to adapt the Spanish lifestyle of drinking ice-cold Sangria on one of the many terraces in the city and to swing a fan while staying in the shade.

My street. Also, there is a church in every corner of Seville. 

One day, when I was walking home, i.e. towards the tiny little room where I keep my tiny little suitcase, I got lost. This is not unusual in Seville, as the streets here form a maze impossible to orientate unless you have a very good sense of direction. I have no such sense. With no mountains to turn to for guidance, I have lost my stable base in life and often feel like I belong nowhere. I am constantly stumbling and tripping over and looking for something or someone to call home. 

Plaza de España - the Spanish square

Typical Sevillan street. Always empty during siesta-time.

Anyway. There I was, somewhere in the middle of Seville, dehydrated and dizzy from the heat, when I noticed a sign saying "This is your home for the summer!" As I approached, I found that the sign belonged to a yoga studio and just then, one of their teachers walked by, patted me on the shoulder and held the door wide open: "Come in," he said and I entered. 

Now, for the past six months or so, I have told anyone who wants to listen that it is my dream to someday become a yoga therapist, in order to give back and help others who are struggling with physical or mental disorders. So you can imagine my surprise when, back home, I googled the yoga studio and learned that they are experts on yoga therapy. Furthermore, they offer a yoga instructor training starting in October and finishing in June next year. It seems like too much of a coincidence so, without any idea of how I'm going to pay for it, I have signed up and been accepted on the course. 

It is not going to be easy. On top of committing to a daily practice, the whole course will be in Spanish and I am going to have to study and work hard, however, this is the only thing that I am remotely interested in. I have lost some of my appetite for life (and food) after too many ups and downs, but perhaps this new test of endurance will bring my zest back. As far as food is concerned, I am thankful that Spain is the land of tapas, meaning one can eat as little, or as much, as one prefers. I quite like a tapa of spinach and chickpeas so I live on that (and ice-cream). 

This summer in Seville has also reminded me of the Indian term "tapas", which originates from ancient literature and has nothing to do with food. It is a concept of perseverance and heat, referring to the intensity that sets psychological processes on fire and helps us preserve the discipline required for change. Sometimes, staying in the fire and putting up with the intensity is necessary for the sake of transformation, which is also true of the yoga classes that I now go to every week. There are fans on the ceiling of the studio but no air-conditioning and still unsure of what my body is capable of, I am constantly struggling between pushing myself and respecting my limits on the mat. 

If I truly want to become a good yoga therapist (and I do), I need to learn to listen to my own body first. I need to learn to see and take care of others, as well as myself, the way that we all deserve to be seen and taken care of. Meanwhile, the Amazon rainforest is going up in flames and although it may seem coincidental, nothing is random. We are all made of the same elements and when the lungs of the Earth are burning, it affects everything and everyone. Hopefully, this urgent situation will bring about a positive change, making us more aware and more adept at looking after each other and our planet, our one and only home. 

48 hours in Granada

He's a carnivore, I'm a herbivore. He's an atheist and a communist while I believe in Jesus and liberal rights. He's also a smoker, an extrovert, a reckless driver and everything else that I'm not. This larger-than-life Andalusian was my guide in the Sierra Nevada mountains and during our four-hour hike, he used more swear words and smoked more cigarettes than anyone ever should, but he also made me laugh more times than I could count. It was the most fun I'd had in a long time.

Meeting my opposite was a great reminder of who I truly am. As my guide, he led me across suspension bridges, held my hand when I slipped on gravel and helped me crawl up to the highest mountain peak before showing me the crosses drawn for fallen rock climbers. Only afterward did he share with me that actually, he's afraid of heights. He invited me for a beer and some blood sausage after the hike and found it hilarious when I asked for an orange soda and some tomatoes instead. 

Hiking near the village of Monachil

The main attraction of Granada is the Alhambra, a majestic fortress hovering over the city. Overtaken by the Catholic Monarchs in 1492, this royal palace is said to be the most popular monument in Spain and one of the world's most amazing masterpieces of Arabic art. It has been declared a Unesco World Heritage site and receives nearly three million visitors a year so if you're planning on traveling to Granada, don't do what I did and forget to book tickets for the Alhambra in advance. Still, I wasn't too disappointed. Walking up to the Mirador San Nicolas at sunset to enjoy the stunning views of the city, the Alhambra and the mountains was enough for me.

La Alhambra

The fortress is not the only piece of Arabic heritage in Granada. As this was the last city to be reconquered by the Christians after centuries of Muslim reign, the Arabic influence is still clearly visible in the architecture, especially in the neighborhood of Albaycín, as well as in the food. My friend and I also felt like we were constantly surrounded by tall, dark and handsome men but then again, this is true of anywhere in Spain. As far as the food was concerned, I had been warned in advance that Granada is not exactly a vegan-friendly place. Arabic shops and restaurants are everywhere and meat is often served with a side of water pipe. I didn't try either of those, but I very much enjoyed the Moroccan mint tea. 

Moroccan teahouse

On Saturday night, my friend and I walked into a taberna that served tapas the old-fashioned way, i.e. we were offered a free tapa with each drink order. So we had a couple of glasses of wine and the waiter kindly brought me some vegetarian food as well. For this, and many other reasons, I would definitely recommend a weekend away in Granada. It is the perfect opportunity to get lost in mystic alleys between white-washed houses and then find yourself on top of the mountains.

This is my happy mix - a little bit of the extreme, a little bit of downtime and to top it off, a glass of vegan wine with a dear friend. I may be on a time-out from many things in life right now, but my thirst for adventure has not been quenched; I'm just learning how to find the right balance.

Life is a journey and everyone we meet along the way can be a teacher so before we judge those who are different than us, let's remember that they may be crossing our path in order to help us take the next step and guide us in the right direction.

Happy hiking in Andalusia

10 ways to healing

2018 won't exactly go down as the best year of my life. Then again, there is something very special about being able to move your legs de nuevo after having learned the hard way what it feels like when you can't. These days I notice and appreciate the way my feet touch the ground and carry me forward each day, step by step. A new friend in Madrid said he couldn't understand why I always take the stairs in the metro station when standing still on the escalator would give me a chance to rest before catching the next train or teaching the next class. My answer to him was simple: I walk, because I can. 

Here's what I've learned this year about how to keep going when the going gets tough: 

1. Grieve 

A few weeks ago, I had planned a kids class that I expected to be fun. Kids love animals, right? Unfortunately, one of the young girls in my class burst into tears as soon as I brought out the flashcards. Apparently, the fluffy-kitten card reminded her of a cat that she had once had. She continued crying uncontrollably for the next sixty minutes and was still sobbing when I walked her downstairs for her next lesson. 

Neither she nor I could have foreseen the flood of tears coming that day. This is what grief is like. It comes and goes and sometimes, the waves are so strong that we are completely swept away. Inundated. Overwhelmed. What we need to remember is that these waves are just feelings in motion and we must allow them to move through us, releasing anything that is holding us back. So whatever you're grieving, whether it's a pet, a loved one or a long-lost dream - let it flow. 

2. Let it be

We often talk about letting go but honestly, I don't know how to do that. Neither does the adorable little girl in my class. Since the first lesson about animals, she has gone back to being her bubbly self, yet she keeps the kitten flashcard right next to her on the desk. This is what grief eventually turns into. Memories. Love. Letting things be as they are. Holding on to the memories doesn't have to stop us from living in and enjoying the present moment. 

3. Be grateful

One of the pastors at my church lost his wife to cancer this year. Still, with tears in his eyes, he doesn't speak to us about loss. He tells us how grateful he is for the long happy marriage that they had. He sings and dances and cries, showing us how to grieve and be joyous at the same time. He teaches us to be thankful for the food on our plates and the roof above our head. For our families. For the people praying for us. For a God that always hears our prayers, even though sometimes, the answer is no.

4. Medicate with care

I have mixed feelings about the treatment that I received for my reactive arthritis in Ecuador. I have no doubt that the doctors there did what they thought was best, although sometimes I wonder if such an excess of medicine was necessary. I tried to speak up but was told that I don't understand what is happening in my body and that I need to trust the experts or else things will get worse.

Hence, I opened my mouth when they fed me cortisone that made my face swell. I accepted a hard-core chemotherapy drug that cost me my hair. I swallowed sleeping pills and anti-anxiety remedies that provoke suicidal thoughts, plus ten other pharmaceutical substances, five times a day. I'm thankful that they healed my body but I'm resentful about the destructive side-effects. I just finished my last dose and have no intention of taking any more, no matter what the doctors say. Nobody knows my body better than me.

5. Meditate

My Mexican roommate recently came back from a two-week meditation retreat in a Buddhist temple. She returned with a spiritual glow around her and a new-found enthusiasm for life. "There is nothing in this world to be angry about," she said, hugging me. "The peace is within us." One week later, that peace was truly tested when the water tank in our apartment exploded in the middle of the night, leaving us without hot water for days. Finding a plumber so close to Christmas turned out to be a tricky task, although we did succeed in the end.

Meditating doesn't (only) mean sitting crossed-legged in a temple, stilling your mind while closing your eyes to the world outside. It is what gives us the tools to remain calm and deal with reality when things fall apart and we're wading around knee-high in freezing water.

I like to start my day by saying thanks and I usually end it with a guided sleep meditation. This little ritual hasn't transformed my life overnight, but I believe that if I stick with it, it will bring about some positive changes.

6. Forgive to be forgiven

At the beginning of this year, I didn't know how to say sorry, I was unsure about what to apologize and not apologize for and I was clueless about how to forgive those who had hurt me. Then the arthritis hit and broke down all my defenses. Messengers started showing up out of nowhere, talking to me about Jesus and unconditional love.

It took me six months of therapy to finally open up and deal with the traumas of 2017 and even though I have yet to find any meaning or sense in what happened that year, I no longer avoid the unpleasant recollections. I let them be. Through forgiving others, I have arrived to what I really needed, i.e. forgiving myself for the mistakes that I made.

7. Create

One of the best things we can do with a broken heart is turn it into art. For me, that means writing, drawing and taking photographs. For you, it may be something completely different. It doesn't matter. Let's keep creating and making this world a beautiful place to be.

8. Ask for and accept help

This year has certainly taught me how to reach out. Life put me in a position where I had no choice but to depend on others and it made me humble. I no longer care about showing my flaws and imperfections; we all have them anyway.

For example, I let my Italian roommate deal with things around the house since he knows how and I don't. At work, I ask senior teachers for support as I haven't had a lot of training teaching kids and at church, I listen to those who have read the Bible because mine has been resting on a shelf for twenty years.

I'm also completely taken back by the amount of support that I have received from friends, family, co-workers and strangers throughout the year. Humbled, truly. This has been a complicated lesson for me because I like to be independent and do things on my own, but maybe it's true what they say: The universe wants to hold us, we just have to let it.

9. Give back

I may not know much about planning lessons for kids, but I do have ten years of experience teaching teenagers and sharing some of this knowledge with new teachers makes me happy. Earlier this year, I started doubting myself as a teacher and was seriously considering a career change. As it turns out, this was just another side effect of the arthritis. Once my health improved, my passion for teaching returned and now I have the motivation to become an even better teacher.

I still treasure one of the first gratitude cards I got from a student a long time ago. "You're not just a language teacher," she had written. "I can feel that you genuinely care about your students and want us to do well." She was right. This is what God has called me to do and so I will continue.

We don't have to move mountains or save the world in one day. Simply being kind and assisting people around us goes a long way. It may mean the world to someone and in addition, it makes us feel better.

10. Change your mind

Many people have talked to me about the importance of positive thinking. While I appreciate their support, I think it's important to keep in mind that we see things as we are but other people's perspective may be different. It is also a fact that mental health conditions such as depression can physically alter the brain, making it very difficult to have shiny thoughts, no matter how hard one tries. It may therefore be worth remembering that shaming and blaming isn't helpful. That being said, it is possible (and allowed) to change your mind.

The first step towards that is to accept whatever you're feeling in this moment. Frustration, fear, fatigue? Okay, let's start there. The second step is to pay attention to that little voice inside your head. What is it saying? Challenge it. Is it true? Mine has been telling me lies for years. Now, I try to meet it with patience and gentleness, pointing out that harsh words are no longer necessary.

After all, 2018 was not the year I nearly drowned. It was the year I stayed afloat, despite some freakishly huge waves. So I'm thinking maybe 2019 will be the year that I learn how to surf.

Just waiting for the ice to melt...

A City Escape

My first week in Madrid, I walked almost everywhere and saw almost everything. I visited every museum, every church and every palace and ended up feeling a little jaded. Like I've seen it all before. A graffiti drawing here, a rose garden there. Another statue of someone who lived a hundred years ago, another painting of Jesus or the king. Yawn. It wasn't until I went on a day trip to the monastery of San Lorenzo de El Escorial that the surroundings finally took my breath away. That's when it hit me that I'm living on historical grounds. That's when I realized that I can't keep walking around in the dark when the sun is shining; I have to open my eyes so that I can let the light in and learn from the past. 

The monastery of San Lorenzo de El Escorial was built in the 16th century and has been declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Although often frowned upon by the Spaniards, this imposing palace is one of the main monuments of the Spanish Renaissance and it seemed magical to me as I wandered through the rooms where princes dined, kings died and monks prayed. There's the chair that Philip II was carried in on his last journey to El Escorial in 1598, there's the Queen's room with a rare 500-year old organ and there's the pantheon where their bodies still rest. Or at least the caskets with their names on them can be found here. 

My favorite part is the royal library, which is absolutely magnificent. The ceilings are covered with frescoes painted by Italian artists and 40,000 ancient books have been turned around on the shelves so that their pages can get some air. Some of these books have been here for over four hundred years. They have been through fires and wars and they still stand. They survived. 

I walk back to the train station through the Prince's park, enjoying the fresh mountain air and admiring the giant trees. I take a deep breath and one last look at the mountain peaks before boarding the local train to Madrid. I've always loved being surrounded by mountains. They make me feel safe in a hectic world where nothing ever stays the same, except the mountains. They don't move. And somewhere in between them are the pages of our books. Our wars are the mistakes that we don't like to talk about and our fires are the regrets that burn inside of us until there is nothing left but ashes. Yet somehow, we survive. We become a little rustier and a little dustier, but we still stand. 

Few of us can afford to live like royalty, but while we're here, we can make the most of what we have and enjoy the little things in life. And if we're lucky, we may get a chance to walk down the Prince's path towards the sunset at the end of the tour. 

Paseo del Principe

Good landings

My friend has a new sparkle in her eyes and her radiant energy is contagious. We are at Juan Valdez, the coffee shop at Guayaquil airport where we first met two years ago and as we lift our cups of tea to make a toast, my friend exclaims: "To good landings!" We burst out laughing at the way she says it, but the message is well received. What she means is, may you land softly. May the people that are waiting for you on the other side of the Atlantic take good care of you and nourish you back to health. May this next adventure you're about to embark upon bring you lots of happiness. 

Twelve hours later, I land smoothly in Madrid and shortly after, four people have already struck up a conversation with me. The taxi driver talks nonstop on the ride from the airport, telling me all about the ten years he spent in South America and how he would never go back. Madrid is the place to be, according to him. The hotel receptionist is also awfully chatty, circling all the things he thinks I should see on a map and recommending a tapas restaurant nearby where the waiters are as tall and good-looking as the food is tasty. (All true, by the way). At the table next to me is a Spanish couple with a baby who can't stop staring at this strange lady eating by herself. The parents and I talk for a while and they welcome me to their city with smiles as warm as the sun.

After lunch, I wander round for a couple of hours and despite my blond hair and the huge map that I'm dragging around, nobody "mistakes" me for a tourist. In fact, I get asked for directions at least five times, by Spaniards. Does that mean I fit in? Do I look like I belong? I'm not sure. 

The view from my hotel room in Madrid, Spain

Once I land in Helsinki, I'm greeted with big smiles and warm hugs from my dearest friends - the ones that I've had for twenty years without any conflict and drama, only laughter and unconditional support. I spend a few days with them before moving on to the town where my family lives. It's the end of August but the days are still sunny and bright and for someone who recently said a lot of goodbyes, each 'hello' and 'welcome back!' feels as nice as the Indian summer.

Despite the loving care from my family and friends, I feel like an alien for a couple of weeks. Everything is familiar and everyone looks the same, yet I can't shake the feeling of being different. I'm not the odd one out anymore, I'm one in the crowd but I'm lonely. I'm home but I feel homeless. I'm back where I started but more lost than ever. Until I find a yoga school nearby and finally land on my mat. After the first yoga class, my arthritic hand hurts so much that I cry for two days. Then I wipe the tears and go back. I adapt my practise and slowly, I start to flow.

Being back on my mat reminds me of who I used to be, but I still don't recognize the person that I see in the mirror. Therefore, I decide to do something more radical - I cut my hair. Most of it has fallen off due to stress and medication anyway, so instead of trying to cover up the bald spots, I choose to chop it all off. I can't watch as the hairdresser has her way with the scissors, so I keep my head down until the last of my blond strands have landed on the floor. Then, I look up and there I am. Still blond but with the shortest hair I've ever had. Still me, but also someone new.

One of my friends in Quito used to find it amusing that he could never quite predict what I was going to do or say. "You're such a wild card," he would chuckle, shaking his head. Since I've been home, I've come to think that maybe he was right. Not even I know where I'm going half the time. They say home is where the heart is but I no longer resonate with that saying - mine has been scattered in too many places in the world. Maybe home is simply where we are happy and at peace. I may not be fully there yet, but at least I'm back on dry land. I have landed and might even be ready for take-off to another destination soon.

I long, as does every human being, to be at home wherever I find myself. (Maya Angelou)

The view from my parent's home in Vaasa, Finland

I left my heart in Quito

It's late at night, we're on a crowded bus and my friends have fallen asleep in their seats, worn out after a long day of hiking. I, on the other hand, keep my eyes wide open because I want to see Quito by night one last time. Driving into this capital in the highlands always makes me feel so happy and peaceful; it's like coming home. Now, it reminds me of the first night I arrived, when it was pitch dark and I had to wait until the next morning to step outside my apartment and see the mountains for the first time. My first week in Quito was one of the happiest in my life. My then love invited me to have breakfast on his balcony and as I sat there wearing his white shirt, trying not to spill while watching the mountains and soaking up the sunshine, I thought... I might be falling in love. 

Mi Quito bonito

How could you not love this city?

The bus driver turns up the volume as another reggeaton song comes on. It's No te vas by Venezuelan singer Nacho and I recognize every word of the lyrics: "De aquí no te vas sin mí, de aquí no me voy sin ti - You will never leave from here without me, I will never leave from here without you." It's the song that my boyfriend used to sing to me while playing with my hair and even though my heart aches from no longer being in that moment and in his arms, I know that I am very blessed to have experienced such love. 

I get back to my apartment which is already half empty and as I pack up the rest of my things, the walls speak to me of all the happy times that I spent here. They also remind me of that one night that I woke up in agonizing pain to watch in horror as my right hand and left foot kept swelling. It was two o'clock in the morning when I reached for the phone with my left hand to ask my friends to take me to the hospital. I knew there and then that something was very wrong and my body hasn't been the same since then. Nor has my life. Learning to live with a chronic disease has changed everything, but not necessarily for the worse. I have learned to have more understanding of those in a similar situation and I hope that I've become more compassionate, towards others as well as myself. 

My goodbye party in Molinuco - La Gran Cascada del Pita 

My phone beeps. My friends are sharing pictures from our hiking trip in the jungle and as I watch them, these adventurous souls that I love so much, I feel nothing but gratitude. There are my colleagues, making silly faces and enjoying a day out in nature. There are my friends who have been by my side all along. And there's one of my first friends that I hadn't seen in so long and when I hugged her today, all the memories of those first days in Quito came back. So much has happened, so much has changed. She sends me a message the next day, saying: "I hope you'll find your way back to being the warrior you once were." 

It hits me then, how much I've changed and how lost I really feel. "I forgot who I am", I whisper to my other friend, the one who knows me best. He puts his arm around me and replies in his gentle way: "Even warriors fall down, amiga. Especially when they get beaten over and over again. But here's the thing - a true warrior always gets back up, no matter how long it takes." 

Guápulo

La Floresta

My last weeks in Quito, I say goodbye to all my favorite places in the city, leaving my footprints and little pieces of my heart in every corner. I stop by at work to clean out my space and enjoy the view of the mountains one last time. I go to Guápulo and La Floresta, my favorite neighborhoods, to take a ton of pictures of the colorful graffiti. I go to the historic center in the south with my first friend in Ecuador and as we manage to sneak into a hidden garden and convince the guard to let us climb up to the church tower after hours, I realize that my favorite memories are of my adventures with her. 

Iglesia San Francisco Garden 

Centro histórico Quito - view of el Panecillo

Finally, I climb to the top of Rucu Pichincha, the first volcano that I climbed in Ecuador and it seems like the circle is full. The adventure has been completed. This is where I'm at my happiest, this is where I say goodbye. Or, as my boyfriend so beautifully put it: "No es una despedida, mi amor, es un hasta luego - It's not goodbye, my love, it's see you later."

Hasta luego - see you later

Make a splash, make a mess

Last week, my friend brought me to one of the biggest waterfalls in Ecuador. It's stunning, yet hardly anyone knows about it. It's hidden in the jungle, far away from civilization. No tourists come here and most Ecuadorians don't seem to be aware of this secluded cascade either.

To reach our destination, we had to drive through the mountains for four hours. It was a rainy day and as we were navigating through the clouds, I couldn't help but think that the outside view looked exactly like the inside of my head. Three months of heavy medication has made my mind so foggy that I honestly don't know what is real and what isn't anymore. I often get lost in my thoughts, or absence of such, and find it difficult to keep up with a conversation. Shadows play tricks on me and sometimes I can't distinguish between genuine feelings and ghostlike emotions.

When we arrived, we parked the car and hiked for about half an hour through the jungle. The thick rainforest surrounding us, we walked on in silence while screeching monkeys jumped from tree to tree. The lush green leaves were still moist from the rain and we gulped down the fresh air as if every inhale were our first (or last). For the first time in a very long time, I could breathe. The knot that's been tied around my throat for the past two months started to loosen and I almost felt like myself again. As we approached the waterfall, we could hear it roaring and once we were standing in front of it, I was amazed. It is hard to believe that something so powerful, and so big, can be kept a secret.

Cascada de San Rafael

On the way back, the sky cleared up a little and a few rays of sunshine managed to break through the clouds. The light, in combination with the fresh air in my lungs, helped defog my mind as well. New thoughts began to take shape and out of nowhere, words came flying to me, begging to be formed into sentences. It has taken me a week to actually put them together but still, that's progress. It means that some of the gloom has lifted and eventually, the rest will dissolve as well.

"Do you need more boyfriend material?", my friend asked as I told him that I've been struggling with a bit of writer's block lately. I slowly shook my head in response. No thanks, I'm done with the drama. Despite the fog, it has become clear to me that I don't need anyone to bring me to the highest mountaintop and take my breath away. What I need is someone who keeps me grounded and allows me to breathe. Love is not about waiting for a knight in shining armor, it's about discovering the one who has a heart of gold hidden underneath. I can climb to the top of a mountain by myself, but I do I need someone to help me keep my feet on the ground when my head is in the clouds. Sharp minds can be intriguing but at the end of the day, I want someone with a bit of softness around the edges. Someone who can be my soft place to fall because I do a lot of that these days.

Maybe the waterfalls really have it all figured out - it seems like a great idea to hide out in nature for a while. Let's go with the flow, roar with excitement, create our own music and finally, make one big splash.