To the Desert

Oooh. Oooh oooh oooh. That’s me calming myself down.

Or I could say, “Holy shit!” Not a very sacred way to start this post, but that’s what we say back in Jersey when something big is goin’ down.

I just spoke with my sister, who grew up with me in Jersey. And something big is indeed goin’ down. So it feels fitting. At least it feels that way to me.

In 7 hours a woman I’ve never met before will pick me up at the crack of dawn. We’ll drive 9 hours to a desert (Death Valley, how fitting) I’ve never been before. There I’ll meet 10 other people, all but one who I’ve met before, and embark on 9 days of ritual, ceremony, council, and 4 days of fasting, three days solo in the wilderness with a sleeping bag, a tarp, water and my journal. No, I’ve never done that before either!

So I stand at the brink of a Vision Quest, a scared journey into the unknown. I’ve been excited all week. And today the fear and grief came through like a mighty Pacific storm. Wowsers. It was all I could do to keep myself tied to the mast and keep movin’ through.

And I did. And I had too. My mother will attest to my habit of leaving packing to the last minute.

And here I am now. At nine at night. The bills are paid. The emails sent. The bags are packed, beautifully. I even cleaned the kitchen! Though not as beautifully.

And I’m feeling…rather good, enjoying a sweet cup of chai and a few morsels of chocolate, a cozy way to celebrate this last night at home, to end a sweet week of potlucks, friends and holiday warmth, and to celebrate the completion of my preparation – of buying tarps and borrowing down coats and sleeping bags and going on an 8 mile “Day Walk” to seek guidance and meeting with my precious Men’s Group and handling a hundred other matters.

I might actually save this week’s to-do list for posterity. Sample items include:
- Give notice to landlord I am leaving this house
- Pay garbage bill
- Prep for Death Lodge

So what lies ahead? It’s hard to say much about a process I know so little about. I can say it feels right to do this. I can say I believe it will change me – perhaps profoundly - though I’m not sure how.

People embark on Vision Quests for different reasons. I am going because I feel my quest will help me continue to move between worlds: between a world based on more on fear and control to one based on trust and openness. I am going because I want to be tested, to face my fears and work through and overcome some of them. I am going to cultivate that sense of being “at home” more deeply inside me, wherever I am. And I am going to further my transformation: to let go and grieve and find a deeper love and support in myself, in the earth, in the stars…and, perhaps, in unexpected places.

And I’m sure I’m going for other reasons, but my mind isn’t conscious of every conspiracy of my soul and the universe. It just gets a glimpse, and if I’m lucky, I muster the courage to go with it.

I am so grateful to everyone who has helped me get to a point in my life where a Vision Quest not only makes sense, but it’s actually something I’m choosing to do, despite my fears. The support and wisdom and love and cheerleading I’ve gotten from so many of you during the past few years, and especially the past few weeks and months, has made a tremendous difference for me.

A kid from Jersey who used to pride himself on his math mind – OK, still does – and started an atheist group in his high school (for real) now knows he has a soul, is now choosing to surrender himself to the universe, has slowly, over time, built the courage to make the move. This is a victory for the universe! ;-)

The grief. I wonder about it. I think it has to do with leaving home, and coming home, and also letting certain things go so that I can make space for new things. Letting go of loves lost and never had to make room for so much more. I'm doing my best to make room for it, remind myself that all that comes now is necessary, and that I am learning to strike a balance between honoring the boy and stepping up as a man.

Right now I feel like I’m standing at the shore of a large lake. It is dusk. It is misty. The water and the air are cool. Rocky cliffs surround us. I’ve never had the courage to walk up to this lake before and stand before it.

These past few months, I’ve found that courage. The lake is big and strong – foreboding in some ways - and yet I can stand before it now.

And there is a boat. It is not a big boat. It looks stable enough, but just barely, and by no means modern. That boat will take me to the other side of the lake.

I want to see that other side so much. But I’m scared. But tomorrow morning at 5am I’m getting in that boat anyway. I’m listening to my soul and doing something scary and having faith I’ll make it through.

I am nervous about the voyage. And I am also excited! To learn new ways and rituals and ceremonies on this boat. To receive wisdom from guides and others on this lake. To commune deeply with the earth, with the rocks, with the blue sky. To sleep under a blanket of stars, and stare up in awe at the night sky that has held me so close since I was a child. To do the rituals and face the fears and feel the fatigue and yet push on. To build fires and burn paper and release what I no longer need into the deep, black water; to cherish rocks and skin and ritual objects as if they were bread; and to pluck treasures, precious treasures, from the mystery.

And to reach the other side. At least to catch more of a glimpse of that new world. To see and feel and smell and experience what more of what it means to live meaningfully and sensually and with a deep knowledge that I am held and safe in this gorgeous world. To dance in it even! And I don’t know any other way there except to cross this dark, mysterious body of water.

I’m staying conscious of the over achiever in me, and of the mystery. I really don’t know what will happen, and I imagine I will accept whatever comes.

And yet at this moment I want to let myself dream big. To balance the fears with a big huge love, wonder, passion and faith.

Whatever your beliefs, I know that if you are reading this, you love me. I ask for your prayers, your thoughts, your blessings, your love and your belief in me as I embark on this journey. It will make a difference, and I will hold you in my heart when I am out there.

Much love,
Roni

And how fitting that the 3 nights before my 3 day solo are the 3 last nights of Hanukkah, and I, wandering Jew, will be in the desert, Menorah and candles in hand.

In the Jungle

Well folks, here it is, better late than never: the story on me and the jungle.

I was feeling both excitement and fear about being there alone. And it all came to pass.

Fear at night, especially at first. Fear of snakes – I saw one, a 5 foot long, 4-6 inch thick jumping pit viper, one of the most venomous of the 130 snake species in Costa Rica. It actually wasn’t very scary.

Loneliness too, and all that brought up in a place of few distractions. Longing came up, and grief followed. I sat patiently with myself and worked through these feelings and took good care of myself. I done good.

And oh, the beauty. Waking and going to sleep to the sound of crickets and birds and the breeze through the trees. Being bathed in the light of the full moon as bats and fireflies circled over head. Gazing out at the placid Gulfo Dulce, at fields of cows, at lush rainforest. Walking alone through dense jungle, across creeks, up to – and in - waterfalls...and amidst so many animals, including, monkeys!

I'd never seen monkeys before, and certainly not this many. I'd see them daily, in troupes of 5 to 10. White faced Cachuphins, bigger Howlers. Babies on the backs of mamas. Crazy sounding Howler calls at 4am to welcome the dawn - and wake me up!

Ya’ll know how much I love monkeys. I always have. They are some of our closest relatives. We share common ancestors. They are beautiful and smart, and really cute!

They also know how to fight. At one point I found myself between 4 warring monkeys, baring their teeth at each other with me in the middle. They were at most 5 feet away, in trees, at eye level. I felt alert but comfortable. It was awesome.

So beauty. A lot of it. And fear and grief, and all of it.

The beauty felt gooood to take in. And the fear and grief were good stuff to face, all important parts of my path right now. What came most to me was the idea of feeling safe and loved and at home wherever I am…and with love and practice, I felt it more and more.

I am home wherever I am. Because I’m in this universe, my home. Because I’m on earth, my home. And because I am in me! All words that are feeling far truer because of my 5 days of mainly solitude. So much so, that by my last few nights, I reveled in being alone, savored laying in my hammock for hours, with a few candles lit and the warm breeze caressing my skin and the gorgeous full moon bathing me in her light.

Pura Vida,
Love Roni

And finally, here's a 10 minute movie I strung together. Muy fun!

El Futbol - viva la Ligua!

I´m being treated like royalty today because of the shirt I´m wearing. It´s really, really fun, and a bit eerie, in a good way. Let me tell you about it.

You see, one of the things I like to do most when visiting a foreign country is go to a soccer game. And the gods of sport have blessed me well: it seems that whenever I show up somewhere, there´s a really big game happening, and I manage to find out about it, and get a ticket.

In Britain it was Arsenal-Liverpool. It was sold out, of course: They are 2 of the best sides (teams) in the UK. I went to the stadium, avoided the $150 a ticket scalpers, and my god of sport in the guise of a kind black man comes up to me and says, wanna come in with me? I have an extra ticket. $30 (face value, for one of the most important matches in England). Those fish and chips wrapped in newspaper never tasted so good.

In Holland it was Ajax-Fijnord, the 2 best teams facing off in the championship. My father´s friend just gave me his 2 season tickets. I´m not sure what was more awesome - the game or the Dutch riot police on horse back (not very intimidating). Actually, I do - it was the game.

Well, last night, it was Saprisa vs. Alajuehla (aka, La Ligua!), Costa Rica´s 2 best teams facing off in game 1 of a 2 game final. Of course this should happen my last night in the country!

A new local friend, German, got us the wildly overpriced (not) $14 tickets. We picked up his friend Carlos - they´re both awesome 35 year old Tico (Costa Rican) journalists - and weaved our way the 15 miles to the stadium. German drives like a Nascar racer meets New York cabbie. I´ve really never felt more comfortable in a car, or witnessed a driver more held by the hand of God. Maybe that taxi driver in Rome.

We park in the working class neighborhood where the stadium is, and the energy is pulsing as we stride enthusiastically toward the glowing lights. Young people are dressed in their team´s colors, singing and waving flags. Men and women are hawking empanadas, drinks, and meat on sticks (which Carlos would by me later ... mmmmm).

Change up the food, the language and the color a bit, and this is how I imagine it happens everywhere on Earth. Soccer really does unite us as a species. Get on board, gringos.

OK Krouzman, nuff preachin´. Get to the game, and tell us about this royalty thing.

Well, the stadium is small by American standards - seats maybe 15,000. People are wild with enthusiasm, singing songs that sound rich and complicated to the untrained American ear (God, why don´t WE sing rich cultural songs at OUR events?). In fact, even with my limited Spanish, I now understand they are passionately singing songs that amount to, ¨Ole!¨ and ¨We want our team to win tonight!¨

Anyway, I grab my empanada, spill spicy green pepper onion soup-like substance all over it - and up the sleeve of my completely water proof Arcteryx shell (see previous post on gear), which at this point has mainly served the function of keeping water in rather than out - and we find our seats. Make that yellow concrete blocks. Not very comfy, but who cares.

The game is fucking awesome. Alajuehla (La Ligua) scores a beautiful just before the end of the first half, and the crowd goes wild. Then a minute later a Saprisa player is red carded. Down one player and down one goal, Saprisa doesn´t have much of a chance. So I indulge and flag down the chicken man, who tosses me a box of delicious fried chicken in exchange for my 4 bucks. That might buy you a pretzel at an American stadium. And the chicken was really, really good.

I also take this opportunity to firm up my allegiance - to La Ligua!, of course - much to the chagrin of my friend German, and to the joy of his friend Carlos. And hey, we´re in the Alajuehla stadium, and almost everyone is cheering for La Ligua! When in Rome...

Of course the home team wins, and it´s pandemonium. A few people get mildly out of hand, a good excuse for the stunning beautiful Costa Rica robo cop riot police to unleash a bit. They don´t have a military, so the would be army rangers here have to be content with scowling at 17 year old soccer fans and pushing them in the chest. Not too hard though. Pura Vida!

So, the royalty thing. After the game we drop Carlos (radio host, father of 3, super nice guy) off at his house, and he tells us to hold on a minute. He comes back and proudly and generously hands me an official, old school original (I am told) Ligua shirt! It´s way big, and it´s black and red (for the socialist-anarchist that I am), and it´s fucking perfect. Carlos and German, you are gems.

We go out for a beer, and I start to notice, ¨Hey, I´m getting some good attention for wearing this shirt.¨ Ganamos! says one woman as she claps my hand. We win!

Eh, si, Ganamos. Ganamos!

So it´s obvious what shirt I wear to the airport today. My new Ligua shirt! It´s stunning. Victor, my cabbie for life (salt of the earth), exclaims with joy as soon as he sees me. La Ligua! I beam with pride.

At the airport, I´m celebrated like I´m one of the players themselves. From the homeless guy begging for money at the curb, to the baggage hands, to the airport departure tax guy, to the crew of young guys running ¨security.¨ I´ve never had my hand shaken firmly and gotten such a smile after passing through the metal detector. Or been able to smuggle through so much coke!

I imagine I´m the only non-Tico at the airport today wearing a Ligua jersey. Perhaps tico or non-tico. This has been a fun post, but I´m going to go walk around and flaunt and exchange that knowing Jedi smile with fellow fans, or even the requisite ¨Ligua! Ligua!¨ chant I´ve been greeted with today as I´ve strolled the terminal.

Actually, I´m going to take a seat in that big red VIP chair for a few first and soak in the comfort of this VIP lounge. Yeah, that´s what I´m gonna do.

Viva la Ligua! Viva Futbol!

Pura Vida,
Roni

Another erie twist...

In case you were wondering, I am at the airport. I asked the nice man at information if they have public internet computers, and he said no, only in the VIP lounge, which I could enter for some ungodly fee, like $25.

So, I do what I do, which is just walk into the VIP Lounge, past the 3 receptionists, find the computer, and start typing with that of course I belong here vibe. No, you don´t need to see my identification. I´m a Jedi in training, I´m Israeli, and for God´s sake, I´m wearing a Ligua shirt!

Quepos, Costa Rica

Hola amigos. Estoy en Quepos, Costa Rica.

What a trip. I'm not feeling particularly funny or insightful. Mainly I'm feeling full of yummy local food, and pretty sleepy.

I figure every Blog entry doesn't need to be a masterpiece. So I'll just see what comes out and share some thoughts.

My 5 days mainly alone in the jungles of Osa were very rich - more to come on that in a few days. It took 3 prop plane flights yesterday (totalling 2 hours 25 minutes, including the 2 layovers) to get me from there to here.

Quepos is a town of maybe 5,000 (?!) on the Central Pacific Coast. It's very warm, quite humid, rather poor, and the people are friendly and kind. Basically typically Costa Rican I'm discerning, except that it lies 4 miles from the nation's most visited National Park, so there's a lot catered to tourists here. Easy enough to avoid, but leaves its mark of course.

Yet the town feels raw and real to me. A lot of concrete. Open street gutters for the rainwater. Sloowwww pace. Teenagers on bikes and scooters. Locals at restaurants, walking out of churches, getting ice cream. And tons of small shops: pharmacies, drinks, ice cream, restaurants, motorcycle / moped repair shop, eye glasses shop...

It feels surprisingly amazing to be in a third world country. How's that for a profound statement? ;-)

Really it's my first time in maybe 10 years, when I visited Jordan briefly. Incredibly, for someone who traveled a lot as a kid, this is actually my first time out of the country in 4 and a half years!

So third world countries. This isn't news to some of you, but wow. The innocence of people. How men smile here like children in the US. People have so much less than us materially yet seem far more in a flow, more relaxed, content with life, in closer knit families / communities. And of course almost everyone is some darker shade of brown than me, and a foot to half a foot shorter. I like how different it feels, yet we're all human.

The innocence strikes me most. Like we age too much in the US, or really, we harden. Less so here it seems. I'm thinking of future travels and the thought of melting into some Laotian village seems quite appealing. Like there would be a love and basic welcoming there that you just don't fully get in America or another "developed" country.

I'm happy to be finding that I feel rather comfortable in places like this. I'm sure my time in Israel as a child helped with that: Israel is far wealthier than Costa Rica, but the poor neighborhoods look quite similar to here, and there is also a raw, unpolished feel to the country. And people are browner, though not much shorter ;-)

I'm enjoying just strolling the streets here at night. I feel safe. I notice my racism creep up and I don't like it. And of course, like anywhere, there is a valid reason to be cautious too.

But I feel safe, and I enjoy strolling around slowly. Going to a local restaurant. Speaking Spanish where ever I can. Another very useful thing I find easy: trying and picking up other languages. I'm fluent in French and Hebrew, and I've learned a lot of Spanish in my week here. People in Costa Rica are happy to indulge and speak Spanish with you, which helps.

Some local slang I've picked up: Pura Vida, of course, which I take to basically mean, "It's all good." And then twanis (not sure on the spelling), slang for "cool," literally from the English "too nice," a Rasta Caribbean influence I'm told. And mucho gusto for thanks rather than the Spain spanish "De nada".

And buenas. Every greeting. No need for the dias or tardes or noches. You can add those, but just buenas will do.

In terms of activites, this is a big change from Osa. Osa was mainly solitude, on beaches and in the jungle. Now I'm in a pretty full hostel with internet access in a small city.

Today I did the tourist thing and flew down ziplines through the rainforest canopy. Dude, it was fun.

On the way back I struck up a conversation in Spanish with our 32-year old van driver, and after dropping everyone else off, he drove me to a hillside trail and said in spanish, walk down there and you'll get to a great beach. Oh and on the way he stops suddenly, backs up, and points out a tree sloth. Wow. Of course the beach was awesome.

Tomorrow I'm going to Manuel Antonio National Park, which is supposed to be a gem, though a small one. Rainforest spilling into the ocean, monkeys, spectacular beaches - it basically sounds like Pt Reyes meets Jurassic Park. Sounds good to me.

Wednesday morning I'm taking the bus to San Jose, a city everyone has said to avoid, but I feel attracted to it, again for its rawness. I plan to visit the central market, get some lunch, walk the streets some, and in the evening I'm meeting a friend of a friend - German (pronounces, hehr-MAHN) - who is awesome and is taking me to a Costa Rican soccer game! Yes! I love going to soccer games in foreign countries. We might also go dancing.

Thursday morning, I'm off, back through Atlanta to San Francisco and into the arms of two dear friends, who I will hug like crazy, because contact / touch just ain't something you seem to get a lot of on the road, at least not most of the time.

There's a lot more to say, and you'll get it in my next post, along with pics and video. One thing I've been working with is cultivating that "at home" feeling no matter where I am. It's something I've been working on now for quite some time in my life in general, and travelling, especially open-endedly, really brings that up. Like soon, can I go to my room and though I am a few thousands miles from Fairfax, and the weather and language and smells and architecture are so different, can I feel at home? And mostly, thankfully, the answer is, "yes".

Bueno, hasta pronto,
pura vida,
besos y amor!
Roni

OK, OH MY GOD, literally, right now, I hear the Staw Wars theme music in the background. Time to go to the communal movie lounge here at the hostel!!!

Damn it that wasn't Star Wars. It's Michael Moore's sicko. But it's all good, the almost full moon is rising and the night is perfect!

Fear, Gear, Friend of the Year - and, I'm here!

OK peeps. I spent an hour at the Atlanta airport crafting a masterful blog post on a pay-by the minute second generation Eniac computer. It posted the title, but deleted everything else. You'll have to believe me that it was quite the post: funny, insightful, rivetting even. But now it's gone. Into the ether.

Hightlights included:
- FEAR: For some reason detaching from all the major sources of security in my life is causing me to feel fear. Go figure. I'm facing this fear like a brave jedi warrior. And sometimes I just shake.
- GEAR: Speaking of Jedi's, I was one when I shopped Friday. Scores included an arcteryx shell (!), an i-shuffle (my first i-product! ONE GIG people!), and diarehea pills
- FRIEND OF THE YEAR: I love you all, and the winner is...Maeanna Glenn, for sleeping over my house and driving me 50 minutes to the airport at 3:30am. Damn.

And now, I'm here, in Costa Rica! Spending a few minutes while a sweet gorgeous woman books me 3 nights in one of the world's most wild national parks. Oooh!

Last night I was picked up at San Jose airport by a friend of a friend, who drove me around, fed me, and was just all around awesome. I gave him a bottle of Johnie Walker Black Label, one of his fav's. He housed me in his small guest bedroom. It was awesome.

Then a short prop plane flight to where I am now: the hot, humid, very green Osa peninsula. Lunch in town, purchasing a block of ice (for the fridge - new electricity where I'm going!) and some food supplies. It is soooo chill here.

So much more to say, and you'll here it in a week or two. I'm off to my seculuded house on the beach, surrounded by monkeys and birds and jungle and friendly snakes.

Here we go!!!

Love,
Roni