Happiness is an inalienable [American] right!

On 15 July, along with one of my dearest friends, I spent the day at Orlando’s Magic Kingdom.

Talk about the perfect way to spend one’s landmark birthday – or any day for that matter, especially if one is tempted to feel ‘down and out’ in the dumps of desperate depression. In short there is no space provided at Walt Disney’s World for the expression of such dark emotions. With the dramas of Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Donald Duck, Snow White and Cinderella to name a few, one’s own stories quickly fade in comparison.

Upon arrival, we were each given a large fluorescent green round pin with balloons that screamed, ‘I’m celebrating.’ Yvonne was given an additional button that said ‘Happy Birthday Yvonne.’ The subsequent result of this second button was that everywhere we went, total strangers, filled with so much love and joy, presented her with greetings of ‘Happy Birthday Yvonne.’

In shops and restaurants, she even received special treatments – like the nine men who serenaded her ‘Happy Birthday’ along with after dinner dessert. And at the bakery where we stopped for afternoon tea, she was presented with the largest chocolate chip cookie I’d ever seen, sealed with a kiss from Mickey Mouse.

The last time that I’d been at Disney World was a very long time ago. In fact, I’d gone with my Dad and one of my childhood memories that remains vividly etched in my mind is the laughter that emanated from my Dad even 30 minutes after we’d descended from our roller coaster ride on Space Mountain.

At the impressionable age of 10, the Magic Kingdom felt divinely real. Thirty odd years later, it was the most surreal experience that two girlfriends could ask for.

As we meandered through the ultimate ‘Fantasy-land,’ I internally mused, ‘when, why, where and how’ do we manage to lose our childhood wonder? I was awash with emotion as I watched a Disney Musical performance with the Magic Kingdom Palace as the backdrop where the over-arching theme was, ‘everything is possible, find the dream inside of you.’ Prior to this, the last time I was reminded of this was during my stay at the Sivananda Ashram in South India, a stark contrast to my present Disney surroundings filled with happy smiley faces, cotton candy and a large overdose of ‘make belief reality.’

Perhaps one of my most memorable rides was on our adventure cruise around the world, ‘It’s a Small World’ [after all]. In awesome wonder I recognized how my adult life has essentially been a mirror reflection of my present little sojourn – from Africa, to Asia, to the Middle East to, South America and to the United States of America, 'land of the brave, home of the free.'

One could easily describe me as a dream weaver and a dream catcher; a gift that enables me to see the connectedness in all things, great and small. While one may not immediately liken my Disney experience to being a yogic one, it certainly felt that way. A roller coaster ride through the crooked mountain provided us with ample opportunity to breathe and evoke sounds by way of screams as we approached the wicked drops that our ride entailed. This literal ride was symbolic of life as I know it – a roller coaster ride filled with peaks and troughs – best approach through breath and living in the moment. Dumbo the Elephant, a seemingly large and harmless creature gave me a moment to pause and honour Ganesh, the ultimate remover of obstacles.

Throughout the park, Disney re-enacted scenes from various aspects of American culture – from the Native American Indians – another spiritual element to the animals of the wild – deer and bears.

As the sun began to set, followed by torrential downpours towards the end of our magically surreal and wonderful day at Disney’s World, and like a child, exhausted in the most exhilarating way from all of the sensory stimulation of the day, I am filled with the gratitude for the love of a lifelong friendship.

Elatedly happy, we departed Disney’s world filled with special memories that will warm our hearts and cheer our souls. Should Darkness choose to make an unannounced visit in the near future, I will draw from my Disney experience, and,

SMILE!

Journal Entry; 3 June 2010

Recently I read an Eisenhower quote that said something to the effect that when caught in a quagmire, one needs to move to a higher level/state of consciousness to find resolve.

Another trans-Atlantic flight, 30,000 feet above sea level, at the very least presents me with this physical possibility.

Who was it that said that the opposite of love is fear?  As much as I love being ‘above and beyond it all,’ I also note where I don’t travel as comfortably as I once did.  Perhaps this has to do with an emerging state of consciousness.  On the other hand, it mightn’t even be that sophisticated – I’m being mindful not to develop a fear of flying as this would totally usurp my commitment to being a global humanitarian and Universal Empress. 

June 1^st, six months into the start of 2010 caught me between European cities; I awoke in Den Haag – my old stomping ground and 12 hours or so later, slumber found me in London town.

Upon arrival in London, I attend a yoga class with one of my favourite Jivamukti teachers; Cat.  She shares with us about having her in-laws to stay for the weekend and invites us to honour our parents irrespective of what our relationships with them may be.  I’m in awe.  At one point when she comes to assist me with a posture, she says, ‘you’ve literally smiled throughout this entire class.  I wish more students could find their joy in their movement.’  This is the power of yoga; saying everything and nothing.  Making a connection without having to explain it away with words.  Namaste.

In this month, both of my parents will celebrate landmark birthdays; on 2 and 17 June respectively.  I’m sad because I’ve missed the one on the 2^nd though happy that my Higher Powers provided me with a glorious London day with clear blue skies so that when I called and sang Happy Birthday while standing at the corner of St. John’s Wood, I could feel the love emanating through the telephone line. 

Thankfully, I’ll be home for both Father’s Day and Mum’s birthday.  My greatest wish is to just shower them both with love. 

Prior to Den Haag and London, I’d been in Italy, co-facilitating GVN’s first European based ‘Be The Change’ (BTC) programme; a resounding success at many levels.

Given that I had been riding a Haitian roller-coaster emotionally akin to Disney’s ‘Space Mountain’ with intermittent twirls on the proverbial Merry-go-round, it literally took me 48 hours after arriving in magical Italy to unwind and embrace the beauty that surrounded me.  It was also the first real indication I had of how close I was to the edge of burnout.  For my family, friends and colleagues who have bore witness to my 19 hour days, 7 days weekly for the past several months, they may bet to differ and say that I was already smoldering.

In spite of being geographically removed from Haiti, still I continued to be pulled in several directions – being a stand for others wanting to Be The Change, supporting the Haiti initiative from afar, teaching yoga and oh, as if I didn’t have enough going on, having to worry about the impact of the elusive Mr. Coke; aka Dudus, on Jamaica and my community there.  Divinely though I was being taken care of as where in Italy, I did not have access to television.

One morning in particular, I would too soon forget this vivid sequence of events:

·      0600 hrs: exhausted and feeling rather unwell, awake to an e-mail that invokes a serious argument; one of those where you shake from inside out, head to toe

·      0630 hrs:  SMS message arrives to inform me that Jamaica is in a state of emergency

·      0700 hrs:  teaching yoga class

·      0900 to 1400 hrs:  Presentations to 20 participants about life in the humanitarian world

Overwhelmed and on the verge of being buried by it all, somewhere between 0630 hrs and 0645 hrs, my inner voice of calm and reason reminds me to live in the moment and to take all of these dramas with a dose of equanimity, breathe, and do one thing at a time.  Ah, in the end, not such a bad day after all.  For the yogis out there, why does it seem to always take a situation where we are rendered helpless to understand the essence of equanimity?

Upon completion of BTC and not wanting to play tourist in Italy of all places – tells you where my state of mind, body and soul were – craving the comfort of the familiar and being surrounded by love – kinda impromptu, I venture home – to the land of canals, cheese and clogs.  Being surrounded by nature and lifelong core friends this short sojourn served as the thirst-quenching dose of respite to restore my stability, focus and perspective.  I filled my days with meandering walks and my evenings with leisurely heart-filled intimate dinners with loved ones.

As I bode my eclectic Dutch family ‘tots later’ – Miranda, Sole, Joe, David, Sofia, Suzie and Sander – I knew that I was definitely guided to be in Holland at this juncture in my life.  During my almost 9 years of living there, the last three [years], were living hell.  The transmutation that life circumstances there presented me were in fact a gift; one that I was unable to recognize until 3 years later while having a Eureka moment at my desk in Indonesia.  In acceptance of that moment and with an almost overdose of courage, I managed to depart a life that had served me well for most of my adult life and to leap empty handed into the dreaded void.

June 3, 2010

AA 105.  Remaining flight time to destination:  3:07 hrs.

The week ahead is one that I’ve greatly looked forward to; participating in a yoga workshop entitled ‘Off the Mat and Into the World.’  This workshop that will be held upstate NY combines yoga and activism.  AND I managed to get a scholarship to boot!  The crème de la crème to this workshop for me will be spending time in the presence of Marianne Williamson; the other of ‘A Return to Love.’  In it she states,

‘….our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure….our playing small does not serve us nor the world in which we live…’

Ha!  In humble gratitude, even I am watching the space.

And so it is.

 

Haiti: The ‘Senegal’ of the Northern Hemisphere

 

Paris, meets downtown Kingston.  This is Petion-ville; one of Haiti’s capital Port au Prince’s, suburbs.  

The soul that this nation exudes is by no means a reflection of its devastated exterior.  As one of our [GVN] volunteers said recently of her experience there, ‘you don’t choose Haiti, Haiti chooses you.’

Six months ago, little did I imagine that it would have, could have captured me to the extent that it has.

A lifelong humanitarian with emergency response and logistics background who reigns from the Caribbean region, supporting Haiti’s recovery wasn’t a luxurious choice I had. Rather it was a clear and humbling call to service.

For a long time, I thought that Jamaica, my birthplace, was the nation that had the capacity to swing me from one emotional pendulum to the next.  With Haiti, if I’m not mindful I could develop and perhaps display schizophrenic tendencies.  There are those raw moments where the depths of emotion I feel are so strong mere words evade adequate articulation – like walking into the Jacmel Community Centre compound one blazingly hot sultry afternoon and to bear witness to a group of adult men completely engaged in an adult English class being led by one of our volunteers.  Though devoid of material wealth, Haitians remain abundant with hope.

Yet there are those other instances where one wants to move so far away from the place, you might liken it to fearing a highly contagious disease.  Upon reflection, that which I wish to discard as dis-ease may in fact be an awakening grander than anything I’ve ever experienced.  Perhaps the best place to observe this is at Port au Prince airport as weary ‘do gooders’ anxiously check-in for their flights that will return them to the safe, the comfortable, the clean, the familiar, only to realize upon their return to ALL of this that a restless void now lives within them.     

My first [social] night out in Haiti last week Friday at a local spot called ‘Half Time’ remains etched in my memories and one I know that I will treasure for a very long time.  I was reminded that most certainly, all work and no play makes for a very dull and exhausted Nadine.  The immense responsibilities of my professional position within Haiti had threatened me to starve my soul.  Thankfully, neither of my colleagues Samuel nor Jessica were having it, and insisted that I come out for a drink. 

Rum Sour #1:  shoulders drop, laughter emerges and she starts to relax. 

Rum Sour #2:  about halfway through, a dancer at heart, no longer can I remain contained in my seat.  As my newly acquired Haitian dance partner starts to sashay me across the concrete floor with the dense night heat pelting down upon us, I notice where unlike in Jamaica where our hips are in full throttle when dancing, Haitians tend to take it down a notch.  Haitian music, I experience, is a melting pot of African and Latin music that rhythmically translates to rich subtleties in the dance movements.  As I share my observation with Samuel, his only comment, which exquisitely encapsulates the distinction, is this:

‘In Jamaica [dance], y’all dance to say ‘it’s here.’  In Haiti when we dance, we say, it’s coming.’  ‘NUFF SAID.

With rum sour #2 complete and refusing to engage in #3, as we unwind we continue to be swept up in the hedonistic magic of the moment – the sweltering heat, the rum, the peanuts, the dance, the laughter and not least of all, the love. 

Given that we’d dutifully promised not be out too late – I had a flight to catch early the next morning – we left shortly after midnight, with not a care in the world.  As we approach our vehicle, we notice that it has a flat tire.  While one of the guys expeditiously pumps it up, I continue to dance in the streets, while discreetly eyeing the very handsome police officer charged with maintaining law and order.  We exchange a few pleasantries in Creole/French and tout suite, we’re on our way!

The nighttime darkness that looms over Haiti is like none I’ve experienced before, only to be accented by candlelit stalls that line the streets.  Samuel takes us to a spot where they supposedly sell the best road-side chicken in Haiti which brings back memories of the vendor near *‘Topsy,’ back in the day.  *You may need to be Jamaican and born in the sixties to perhaps appreciate this one!

As we await this succulent chicken that slowly roasts, we’re STILL dancing in the streets.  Across from the chicken vendor is a stall that boasts some cocktails that I’d dare not even inquire as to their composition.  The one I taste echoes rum, passion fruit, ginger, cloves and several other things. 

Eventually we leave to return to our place of abode in Croix des Bouquets, the area that is renowned for its metal art in Haiti.  As we depart from this street corner, Samuel brings to my attention the graffiti that adorns the wall; paintings of Marley, Guevera, MLK Jr and Aristide!

Not wishing to share the tears that are streaming down my face, I hang my head out the window, ruminating on the week that it has been and the emotionally intense night I’ve had.  Sentimental yet melancholic, I am as humbled as I am proud of the tremendous feat of efforts and success stories of the GVN volunteers; past and present. 

In barely 3 months, from absolute ground zero, we have succeeded in building a community centre, treating over 300 patients in temporary health clinics that we’ve run at both our locations; Jacmel and Croix des Bouquets, we’ve taught hundreds of Haitians everything from art to yoga, we’ve collaborated with existing NGOs on the ground; both large and small and we’ve run feeding programmes.  We’ve shared everything we have and have received – from teddy bears to medicines.

ALL of that shared and said, nothing compares to the humility, love, gratitude and sheer joy that we’ve received in return. 

Perhaps it was our Australian pastor volunteer who said it best:

‘Thank you Haiti for reminding us of who we truly are’ – heart-filled human beings.

And so it is.

Namaste!