LOSING MY IDENTITY

A Spirit Recovery Journey to Teotihuacán, Mexico

Who am I, really? I have gone through life identifying myself by all of the things that I do, the amazing experiences that I have had, the places I’ve seen, the people I know. Then there is the dramatic version, the pain and suffering, how I have been wronged by so many, the victim, poor me…(let me impress you with how far I have come through all of this adversity). This is what society tells us we are. Keep climbing the ladder; the corporate one, the status one, the martyr one, the beauty one, trying desperately to ascend to the next rung so, at last, so then, I will be happy, right? So why doesn’t the contentment arrive? Why does the ladder keep getting taller and I keep feeling smaller?

Teotihuacán, Mexico is a place where, for thousands of years, people have gone to shed themselves of the skin that they have created, to awaken to the truth. It’s a place where I have longed to go since I started my spiritual journey just over a year ago. I have heard the testimonials from dozens, claiming deep transformation beyond your wildest comprehension. It has been said that words cannot describe the experience. That anything else pales in comparison. “Just wait,” I was told, “you will see when you go. It will completely change the way you move through life.” Intriguing, to say the least.

Arriving in Mexico City was a lesson from the beginning. A flooding, torrential rain hit the city hard, pouring down fierce and fast. It was the worst storm the city had experienced in over 60 years. This otherwise nourishing gift, pushed the capabilities of the infrastructure over the edge, and it was not able to contain the rivers of water that flowed out of control. Most streets were impassable and the traffic became a confused mess of vehicles trying to impatiently enter and exit. Small cars were up to their windows as they crossed the depths of the pools. The 35 mile ride took about 3 ½ hours and we arrived feeling relieved and hungry and grateful to have made it to The Dreaming House, the place that we would call home for the next five days. The darkness and the curious weather created a metaphor for our lives, as we knew them. The chaos, the drama, the frustration, the emotions, the intolerance, the stirring, the anxiety…the fear, of the unknown…it was all present to whisper in our ears… “Why are you in Mexico?”

Morning arrived, allowing the sun to show us where we had landed. The earth was still wet and puddled, but the sky was as clear as can be. Everything looked more detailed and bright, intensely illuminated by the light. A deep inhale of the crisp, clean air with arms stretched wide…began the day.

We all gathered in the meeting room after a delicious breakfast, to get acquainted with each other and receive the low-down of what we might be in for on this journey together. We were reminded immediately that our “stories” had no business in this place. We went around the circle, basically giving our first names and where we were from. That’s it. Getting hooked on our familiar personal pitch-line was what we were there to get away from.

“Be Here Now!”

I found this so refreshing. To experience and share with a group of over twenty people for five solid days and not discuss what it is that we do for work, how many kids we have, where we went to college, what kind of car we drive, nothing from our past…to stay as present and in-the-now as possible, was our goal. So when you couldn’t remember someone’s name, it wasn’t, “you know that lawyer guy,” which of course labels him and puts any number of different perceptions one might have about lawyers, attached to him. It also, and more importantly, kept us all on the same plain…humans, gathering together to have a human experience. Aww…how nice is that?! We weren’t comparing ourselves or creating a hierarchy of wealth or intelligence. We were simply there to learn and grow and release, and find our truth. Lee McCormick, our Toltec guide and shaman, started us off by reminding us that, “We are living with our past in front of us. We need to let go of our story in order to put it behind us. We are not our bodies, our minds, or our belief systems…that is all just an interpretation, not the truth. We are willing to go to any length to prove that we are right. We work so hard to fit in, so we can get conditional love. We’ll do almost anything to avoid the unknown. We are working so hard to manage our misery. And, of course, misery loves company, so we indulge in it, share it and spread it to everyone we know. The bullshit has to stop. The stories have to stop.”

Arriving at the ruins, we sat on a set of ancient stone steps with a vantage point from which to meditatively observe the plaza that represents Hell on Earth. What brought us to this place, this place where you go to remember who you are? Were we all willing to leave our old lives behind in exchange for our freedom from fear? In the center of Hell is a platform with steps on four sides called the Island of Safety. This represents all of the ways that we find to cope and comfort ourselves in our lives–the aspects of our lives that we make responsible for us. The labels. What are the agreements that we have made with ourselves to feel safe? What has served us, but now feels like a trap? We all wandered in Hell to contemplate and journal about what this might be for each of us.

This was a time for me to get very real with myself. I have defined myself, for most of my life, by what I do, the company that I founded, my list of achievements and successes, my travels to far away lands, properties that I own, how wonderful my children are, and on and on…I have used this story to create, what I hoped, would be a positive perception from others of what I’m all about, to get love and acceptance, or even to place myself higher than others on the interesting and impressive scale. But what I was really doing is hiding behind my fear of what I am without this story of what I am? If not this list of “good” stuff, then was I the bad stuff…the shame, the ugliness, the disappointment? Or maybe I am none of the above?

Could I simply be divine light…an energy being with a huge capacity to love?

We were asked to pick up stones that represented the agreements and beliefs that we were ready to discard. None of the ideals that we thought were making us safe were actually making us safe from anything. The real safety is in the love that we give ourselves, the refraining from judgment, and the acceptance of ourselves, and others. Called by a Tibetan bell, we gathered on top of the Island of Safety, looking down on our Hell below. Lee had drawn a circle with an X in the middle, dividing it like a compass. One by one we each entered the center of our circle and ceremonially laid our stones in one quadrant with gratitude for the life that we have led and a commitment to leave it behind, in exchange for a new beginning…free from suffering, free from judgment, free from the past. For me, this was a powerful start to an amazing transformation.

There is so much more to us than what we have been living.

That night, feeling a little dazed by an emotional day of growth and awareness, we all stumbled into the meeting room to discuss what we were experiencing. A little sharing was done, but mostly it was quiet. We were all processing. Joan Borysenko and her husband Gordon Dveirin, were attending this retreat with us as teachers and guides as well. Even Joan, who is an internationally renowned speaker and author on spirituality and integrative medicine, seemed a bit stunned, stating that she came here knowing nothing of what to expect and she was going to sit with this unknowing until she knew something and then she would speak. What she did ultimately share with us that night though, is that we should be particularly aware of our sleeping dreams during our nights at The Dreaming House. To keep a journal near our bedsides, ready to document our visions, for if we go to sleep with the right intentions, our dreams may have messages for us on issues that we need to work on. This was interesting to me, as I have always paid particular attention to my dreams. I have found them to be helpful with creative inspiration and they are many times very strange, which amuses me.

My Dream That Night: I was very frustrated. Over and over and over again I was making a pizza. It wasn’t your typical pizza, it was gourmet, with yummy organic and exotic toppings and rectangular in shape. I would make this pizza with such precision, wanting it to be aesthetically balanced and perfect. I would carefully put the pizza in the oven at just the right temperature, for just the right amount of time, but each time I would pull the pizza out of the oven it would be flawed. The pizza would have a big tear in it or it would be burned or flat on one side. I couldn’t get it right, no matter how hard I tried. So, for what seemed like (in dream time) an entire day, I kept remaking the pizza. You see, I had crashed into this guy’s car. No one got hurt, but I put a dent in the back of his car and I felt really bad. I had to make a perfect pizza to give to this guy so he would forgive me, so he would like me, and not think of me as an irresponsible person who created this problem for him that he was now going to have to deal with.

So the next day, I knew what I needed to focus on. Letting go of perfection, and trying to be everything to everyone to earn their love, respect, or forgiveness.

I am good enough just as I am.

As individuals moving together, twenty humans BEING, we climbed the steps to a platform directly in front of the Pyramid of the Moon. Each of us were strategically placed, sitting with four people in the center facing outward and then four across from them facing each other and then one person in each of the spaces between, and someone across from each of them and so on, so that each person was looking into the eyes of another. We then placed one hand on the heart of the person in front of us and the other hand on the person’s heart next to us, so that ultimately we were all touching, connecting to each other. Staring into the eyes of the person in front of us we began breathing in unison, all of us, exchanging loving energy with intention. The flow of energy began as a simmer and over the span of a few minutes, with all of us continually breathing together, deeper, inhaling and exhaling, and with more intent, became a roaring boil of electric connectivity, the tears rolled down our cheeks, and the light that we created rose from us shined up and out, into the universe. I could feel each and every person, like a current running through me. I felt a deep grounding with the earth as if roots were growing beneath us down through the ancient ruins and into the core of the earth. The feeling of oneness with everything and everyone was brilliant and clear. The intensity, the power, the pure love was the most beautiful thing I have ever experienced. To be so free, to be nothing but love and light, and to be enveloped with all that is and ever was…miraculous!

All we need is love, love, love is all we need.

And so, five wonderous days fly by, as days do. We all have to leave our compound of closeness and comfort, with all that is. Trying hard to hold it together, to not open the floodgates of emotion, I say my good-byes and then a woman that I made a special connection with, comes over to me with tears welling in her eyes and I lose it. We hug, one of our deep and warm, lasting and sweet hugs, and as we pull away she says, looking at me with tears streaming down my face, “It was really nice to meet you,” and I say to her, “No, honey, it was really nice to FEEL you.”

For me this journey was truly transcending. I am not the person that I was when I arrived. I have evolved to the point that, that girl I thought I was…all aware and enlightened, is barely recognizable. What do I do? Where is the ladder? I can’t recall my story. It seems so insignificant anyway.

Can five days really make that big of a difference in your life?

Anything can happen when you lose your identity and forget who you are in the middle of Mexico at the temples of Teotihuacán.

A visit with Ketut Lier - Medicine Man (of Eat, Pray, Love fame)

Ok, so I am a big fan of Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love....one of my all time favorite books. Well, anyone who has read the book knows that she takes this glorious year off and spends 4 months eating in Italy and learning to speak italian, 4 months praying in an Ashram in India, AND 4 months in Ubud, Bali, where she, falls in love. Since I am here in Ubud and, like I said, love this book, I decide to re-read the last chapter just to refresh my memory of her spiritual and otherwise exhilarating, experience. There are a number of wacky and woo-woo characters that she runs into in Ubud, all of which are incredibly intriguing to me, but one of which I was so interested in meeting that I inquired with the hotel staff if they knew him.

Ketut Lier is a medicine man, palm reader, painter, wood sculptor...extraordinary all around human. Elizabeth describes him as old, somewhere between 65 and 110, he is not really sure; mostly toothless, joyously happy man who sits on his porch and helps people all day long, everyday. He makes magic paintings that cure ills, herbal concoctions mixed with special prayer for any number of ailments, fortune telling for foreigners, he performs wedding and cremation ceremonies, and on and on...he is a very busy guy.

Elizabeth met Ketut two years before on an assignment writing for a magazine about spas in Bali. (Nice assignment.) I want to be this girl when I grow up, only she is younger than me, so as the Hindus believe, maybe in my next life. Anyway, when she met him on that first trip she asked him how to get closer to God. To have God with her always, while still enjoying the pleasures of life. He basically told her to stop thinking with her head and think only with her heart. While reading her palm he told her a bunch of cool stuff, then he told her that she would come back and spend three or four months living with him and she would teach him English and he would teach her everything he knows about God. This is what spurred the idea for the book. Her experiences with Ketut two years later when she returned to live in Bali for four months was profound and deep. So, I was delighted when Sujana at the hotel said, “Yes, I know Ketut Lier, when would you like to go see him?” Yay!!!

I was giddy with excitement to meet this mystical man. So an hour later, there I was being dropped off in front of Ketut’s home, not far from the hotel. Elizabeth describes the sign in front of his house as saying, “Ketut Lier - painter.” Well, now it says, “Ketut Lier - painter, wood carving, and added in small, Medicine Man.” I guess I was kidding myself thinking that I would meet this man and recreate Elizabeth’s enlightened awakening with a magical potion for 250,000 rupiah ($25). I thought his porch would be packed with local villagers seeking help with sick babies and need healing for bad birthdays, but instead, there was one woman from Holland that he was sitting with and two people from France waiting before me, each with their tattered copy of Eat, Pray, Love in hand wanting the same answers for life’s intriguing dilemmas as I did, with an autograph to boot. The holding area for the people waiting to see him was about 10 feet from the porch where the readings are performed. Within ears shot, especially since Ketut, being hard of hearing, speaks quite loudly. So, halfway into the reading of the Dutch woman, I eaves drop, in a way that seems that I’m just daydreaming. Ketut is delightful and flattering with her, they giggle and he goes on. After about 30 minutes he invites the next in line to come to the porch where he sits on a woven straw mat that looks quite old with stacks of notebooks and other odds and ends behind him. He is wearing a t-shirt that looks like a souvenir from Jakarta with a gold silk scarf around his waist and a yellow and brown batik sarong, with no shoes. Again, only because of course, I can’t help it; I listen to what he tells the woman from France. Humm...it’s sounding a little familiar. Then a French guy goes up. He came with the woman before him. And again, it sounds like a recording with only a few small revisions to compensate for the difference in gender. My heart is sinking a bit as I sit in the heat with about 90% humidity, dripping with sweat while I wait patiently for my moment with Ketut. For the last 20 minutes I decide to find a spot in the shade a little ways away, not wanting to hear any more as my excitement is withering. I feel a bit like Ralphie, that kid in A Christmas Story that waits eagerly for the postman to deliver his Little Orphan Annie secret decoder that turns out to be a stupid commercial for Ovaltine.

So, its my turn and I’m thinking this old guy has got to be tired. I ask his assistant if he needs a rest before I go up, and he asks. Ketut says, “No. No. I am fine. Come. Come.” Up on the porch I am enveloped with the charm and cuteness of this little man. He says, “Sit. Sit.” and I do. He puts his hand on my knee and says, “How you know me?” I say, “Well, like most everyone else in the world, I read the book.” He reaches back and picks up his white hard bound copy that is dirty with finger prints, missing the glossy wrap, and shows it to me. “Yes, I think many people read this book.” He shows me where his book is signed by Elizabeth inscribed, “To Ketut Lier, my friend and teacher. Love, Liss.” Then he tells me how sad he is that he can’t really understand the book because he reads very slow in English. He finds the chapter where his name is written many times and he shows me, pointing to his name. “See, this is me, Ketut Lier, Ketut Lier (turning the page) Ketut Lier, that me.” “I know,” I say. Then he starts to read the first sentence on the page, sounding out each word very slowly and then he gets frustrated. “I think you are very famous now.” “Yeah maybe.” He says, “but I not feel good in my back. It hurt me everyday. I tell my son and my granddaughter, but no one can help me.” I said, “Well maybe you need to have some back support while you sit on the porch all day.” He just looked at me like I was crazy. “Yeah.” He says, “I don’t know.” “Where you from?” He asks. “America.” “Oh, I have many friend now in America.” “Yes, I know. Liz is from America in New York, but I am from the other side in California.” “Oh, never been to USA.” He says. “It you first time to Bali?” “No.” I say. “My second time.” “Oh, why you come see me alone?” I told him that my boyfriend stayed back at the hotel. “You not married?” “No. I say. I was married a long time ago, but now I have a man, but we are not married.” “Oh, you will get married. The first guy not your cup of tea, but other guy, he your cup of tea. You be together until die.” “Ok, good.” I say. Then he puts his hands on my face and says, “You very pritteee.” (He said this to all of the other women too and told the man he was very handsome.) Then he said, “You eyes are very good for me. You ears are very good....oooh, yes, very good ears. It good for me. You nose....it is very goooooda and you lips it very good...sweet like honey...you understand? All face, very good! You be prittteee you whole life. You understand?” He smiled with his big mostly toothless grin and then he took my left hand in his and he looked at my palm. “Oooh...yes, you life line is very good. Very long life. You live 100 years.” He said, with a smile and a decisive nod. (He said the same to all of the others, except the guy only got 99 years...ha.) Then he said, “Ooooh yes, you money line is very strong. You will be rich, very rich. You make lots of money. You no forgot me.” Then he laughs. (Again verbatim to everyone else.) “You influencer. When you talk people listen to you and want to follow you. You understand?” (Same, same.) Then he asked me what I do for work. I said that I am an artist for advertising and marketing and a photographer and I do some writing. Then he said, looking at my palm again, “You do many kind of job, on computer, with creative, many thing you can do. Very good for you. Make you lots of money.”

Then he asked me if I had children yet. I told him that yes, I had two boys ages 16 and 19. He turned my hand to the side and said, “Oh yes, you have two children, both are boys.” (Yeah, I just told you that.) Then he asked for me to put my legs in front of him so he could look at my knees. “Yes, very strong, no Arthritis.” Then with the other knee, he wiggled my knee cap around a bit, “Oh, good, you no Rheumatoid.” Then to my back. I lifted my hair and he looked at the top of my back and said, “Oh yes, very nice, like fragrant flower. You understand?” I didn’t, but said I did. “Ok.” He said. “I think you have good life. What you do for work?” I noticed a little forgetfulness, but this guy could be 100, so I understand. I told him again what I do and he says, “Oh yes, you be very rich. Don’t forget me.”

I tell him that when the Eat, Pray, Love movie comes out he is going to have a line wrapping around Ubud to see him. “And when you get rich, rich, rich, don’t forget me,” I say. He laughs. He tells me that Julia Roberts came to visit him, but he didn’t know who she was. He actually plays himself in the movie. Ubud is all a-buzz about the filming that was done there a few months ago. I heard that the producers paid Ketut 4 million rupiah for his part (about $4,000). That is a lot of money to him. I asked him if he was looking forward to seeing the movie and his expression changed and he said, “No, I sad that I can’t follow. My English is not so good.” I said, “Oh, I’m sure you will get a copy of the movie with Indonesia subtitles, where the words will run across the bottom of the picture.” He looked very confused and said, “No. I no good read.” “Well, you can just watch and be happy. You already know the story. You were there.” He doesn’t seem to understand me. So, we take a photo together and he smiles and says, “Let me see!” He seems to get a kick out of seeing his image on the viewfinder. Then he looks and says, “Oh, no, you very prittee, me very ugly, no teeth.” “No.” I said. “You are handsome.” He waved me off saying, “No, no, you kidding me,” with the cutest grin.

We both stood up to say goodbye and we warmly held all four of our hands together and made a small bow at each other. I thanked him profusely for his time and he said, “Ok. See you next time you in Bali. Tell your friends in USA to come for palm reading.” “I will.” I say. “Bye. Bye.” We waved at each other and as I walked through the front gate I looked back and he was still standing there waving and smiling at me.

He did seem to have a script, but you know, he really was delightful...sweet as sugar with a little spice mixed in. A bit playful and flirty, curious and childlike, with wise eyes that said he knows the secrets of the universe and if I had more time he’d be happy to share. So, maybe it wasn’t the spiritual experience I had hoped for, but I certainly left smiling...maybe even smiling in my liver. (If you read the book, you’ll know what I mean.)

Bermuda – Brilliant Conservationists

One of the first things you will notice as you approach the island of Bermuda from the air, is the magnificent turquoise blue ocean shores, but also that all of the structures have pristine white roofs. It is incredibly picturesque, though after discovering the genius in the purpose…quite inspiring. Every home on this 21 square mile paradise is topped with row after row of slate stone and then uniformly white washed. The horizontal scalloping slopes are engineered to catch the rainwater and create a cascade into a drain system that collects and fills a large tank beneath each home. This pure clean water is all that each household has to fulfill all of their liquid needs; showering, flushing, cleaning, drinking, cooking, feeding plants, etc. Houses have been built utilizing this system since houses have been built in Bermuda.

There is not a rainy season, per say, in Bermuda. The rain comes when it comes, so conservation of this precious resource is taken very seriously. Rich or poor, everyone skimps on water. Showers are short and not usually a luxury that one can take advantage of everyday. If a bath is desired, the water does not go down the drain, but rather used to wash the car or water the garden. While I was visiting, it rained hard for a short time during three of the five days. Tanks were topped off and excitement was exuded for the “good rain” and plans for long showers or washing bedding or draperies ensued. There is a run-off system for overflow, but no one wants to let any of this stuff go to waste so their imaginations go wild with wonderful, watery ideas. For many, this water does not get treated in any way. It’s pure rainwater, clean as it comes from the sky. Some have purifications systems, but most feel that it is not necessary. How cool is that? No chemically treated, chlorine tasting, (or worse) water that has traveled from who knows where to get to you through who knows what?

Coming from California, where water is scarce and a drought is always threatening, I couldn’t help but be awe-inspired by this incredible exercise in capturing and conserving our one, can’t-live-without, natural resource. We hear on the news daily that we need to be rationing; watering our lawns every other day and only at night, taking shorter showers, turning off the water while we brush our teeth and only washing a full load of dishes or clothes. But honestly, most people don’t pay any attention to this. They figure, someone else will cut back on their usage and make up for my wastefulness. While millions and millions of dollars are being spent on research and development for converting sea water into safe drinking water; pools are filled, landscapes watered in excess until a river runs down the streets into the sewer, and 40 minute showers are taken twice a day unnecessarily when we could just practice the simple art of using only what we need.

You just never know where your scope of sustainability will expand, but I, for one, will be much more conscientious and grateful for the spring of life that magically comes from the tap whenever I need it. And I will not take for granted that it will always be there.

Other ways that Bermudians are leaders in sustainability and the fight against Global Warming:

There is a one-car-per-household law. No exceptions. No matter your status or situation. Again, brilliant! The solution for multiple adults needing transportation in one home in Bermuda? The motorbike. It is typical that the woman of the house drives the car and the man drives the motorbike; and when a child reaches 16, he or she will also begin driving a motorbike. People aren’t much into cars as status symbols on the island either. The cars that they do have are very small and efficient, consuming little gasoline and giving off low emissions. The roads are narrow and there really isn’t room to navigate two lanes of gas-guzzling SUVs anyway.

One of the largest industries in Bermuda is tourism, and the rule applies to tourists as well. No rental cars are allowed, only motorbikes can be rented. This works two-fold – the traffic is managed by the amount of cars permitted on the minimal roads that lead from one end of the island to the other, and the island maintains cleaner air with less pollution and more probability of securing life on the islands that are completely surrounded by coral reefs, which are in danger of being destroyed by Global Warming. If the coral reefs begin to deteriorate due to higher tides allowing less carbon dioxide and light that the coral needs to thrive, the islands will become increasingly susceptible to a tidal wave washing everyone and everything away, forever. This kind of environmental catastrophe is being studied by underwater engineers, and the people of Bermuda are taking it seriously.

The residents and tourists also take advantage of the public transportation available, either by land or by sea. The bus is cheap and goes everywhere, but more fun, and visibly stimulating, is the ferry system that many people ride daily to work or to school or to site see. There is nothing prettier than the view of Bermuda from the water. The azure waters gradate from a deep and dark, bright indigo to a translucent blue-green to a crystal clear turquoise that takes your breath away. Being on the water is a great way to get where you need to go.

They have rules at school too. Bermudian schools do not serve meals, no cafeterias, which I’m sure means better nutrition for the kids and it saves money all the way around. I love this! My youngest son is 16 now and can come home for lunch, which is great, but for the last dozen or so years that I have had children in school I have always packed their lunches. The school newsletter that now comes daily via email announces the lunch menu for the following day and I read it and nearly weep. One of the latest gourmet delights was: chili cheese tator tots. I am speechless. So, with this as my gauge for school meals, Bermudians have it figured out, and on top of that…no child is allowed to bring a lunch to school in any type of bag or container that is not either completely recyclable or even better, reusable. This is teaching kids about good health and taking care of our environment in one well-rounded lesson. A+ Bermuda.

I am lucky enough to have friends on this wonderful and special place in paradise and I visited the homes of a couple of them who have children. I was really impressed with these kids overall - responsible, polite, considerate and super smart, they seemed to understand how fortunate they are to live where they live and enjoy a quiet, slower paced kind of life. But it was the little things that stuck with me. While two of the young girls were outside playing on swings that look out over a vast expanse of blue, where the perfectly-puffy clouded sky meets the beautiful blue ocean, the 8 year old says, “Mommy we are going to play outside so we don’t use electricity.” I did a double take, “was that a child who is actually aware of the fact that electricity is not only a precious resource, but that it also costs money? WOW!” While the water is free, power is expensive on the island and the kids understand this. TV watching, video games and computer time are limited and nothing is left plugged-in that is not necessary to function.

Necessity is the mother of invention, but if, like the Bermudians, we never knew that we could use our resources irresponsibly and in excess, would we be different? I think the proof is evident in a place that was miraculously discovered by a shipwreck 400 years ago and still survives and thrives 700 miles from anywhere in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

Cambodia's Lasting Impression

A trip to Cambodia is not for the faint at heart. While there are beautiful sites to see, there are also harsh realities you can’t ignore. The Cambodian people have suffered through unimaginable horrors. From 1974-1980, more than half of the population of the country died, either at the hands of the Khmer Rouge or by starvation and illness. The people who remain, seem brow beaten and tired. It is not easy being a Cambodian. Life is hard. And although they could just give up, they endure and move forward. There is a sense of optimism if you look closely. The children’s smiles truly capture your soul. You want to hug each one and let them know that everything will be ok. But will it?

In 1992 UNTAC (UN Transitional Authority in Cambodia) arrived to oversee the overall reconstruction of the country and to supervise the democratic election. Although Funcinpec won, Cambodian People’s Party (CCP), Hun Sen, managed to bully and threaten his way into the title of Second Prime Minister. UNTAC agreed, God knows why, and allowed the two parties to form a unique coalition. In 1997, Hun Sen staged a bloody coup, overthrowing the First Prime Minister, Prince Ranariddh, who by the way, manipulated his way into political power many years earlier. The fact that Hun Sen is a former Khmer Rouge guerrilla has not been lost on the people of Cambodia. His strongman tactics more than shadow the ruthless ways of his old comrades and the nation’s citizens are well aware that they are living under a thinly disguised dictatorship. Why must so many people suffer in the name of power? What do these men ultimately get out of it? It is very clear, while traveling through this country that no one is looking out for majority of the people. The few rich are getting richer and the vast majority of poor are becoming utterly destitute. With the out of control increases in the cost of fuel and food how will they survive? It is understandable that the people would feel that they are so much better off than they were 20 years ago, but as an outsider looking in, there is so much room for improvement.

Siem Reap and the surrounding area offer much to see and experience. The temples of Angkor are beautiful and inspiring. A true architectural treasure of historic magnificents. The people in this area are sweet, although there are many looking for handouts, you don’t mind doing so, because your heart goes out to them. At least four days are needed to really take in the sites.

In Phnom Penh, on the other hand, there is not much to see and the overall atmosphere is unfriendly. Warnings came from everyone we met about men who may attempt to steal your belongings. The unsafe feeling was uneasy, and honestly we were anxious to leave after visiting the orphanage and seeing the Genocide Museum and The Killing Fields. The recent violent past excuses the attitude of the people. Who wouldn’t be angry after the way that they have been treated? That being said, one day is enough in Phnom Penh.

Though it may not seem like it, we are glad we came. One must always be reminded that there are unacceptable atrocities in this world. People are people wherever you go. We all want and deserve the same simple things; respect, understanding, security and love. The Cambodian’s have impacted us in a way that we will never forget. And although we were only able to help some of them in our own small way, they have impacted us in a big way. We will eternally be grateful for our blessings and keep the lessons these people have taught us, close at heart.

The Genocide Museum and The Killing Fields 1974-1979

Reading about the devastation that occurred in Cambodia in the recent past, can’t possibly make the impression that witnessing the places where it really happened does.  It is hard to imagine that people can be so brutal, cruel and heartless. These types of mass killings are part of human history. We have read about the Nazi death camps, the genocide in Rwanda, but to look at the victims in the face, row after row, room after room, of faces…is a painful reality. It was incredibly emotional and difficult to see, to take photos of, to view the documentation of senseless killing. It’s frightening that this happened in our lifetime.

In April 1975, screaming soldiers armed with AK47’s entered government buildings, offices and homes in Phnom Penh and ordered everybody out. They told them they could come back in 3 days, as the Americans were planning to bomb the city. They then marched them in a mass exodus to the countryside, where for the next four years they were forced into slave labor to meet Pol Pot’s revolutionary dream. 

Pol Pot had devised a plan of turning the country into an agrarian utopia through an ultra-Maoist regime.  He scratched the calendar and began at year zero.  The name of the country was changed under his fanatical rule to the Democratic Kampuchea. Books, music, arts and religion were all abolished. Any person who was educated was instantly executed. It is believed that over 1.7 million people died during this time. Families were separated and those who survived were subjected to starvation and torture. 

The Khmer Rouge gathered over 17,000 people over four years, to what was called Security 21 (S21), a former school in Phnom Penh.  It is now called the Genocide Museum.  The killers who detained the victims would first photograph each as they entered and again as they tortured and ultimately killed them. These photos are on display in the rooms of the prison. The faces are haunting, women and babies, children, men, even a few foreigners. It didn’t matter to them how old or young the people were that they brutalized. Pure evil existed in this place. The prisoners were kept in metal shackles, starved and tortured daily for an average of two to four months for peasants and six to seven months for politicians or the educated, before they were executed.

A few quotes from Cambodian’s who survived the Khmer Rouge, taken from a book we picked up, “Children of Cambodia’s Killing Fields”: 

“They told us we were VOID.  We were less than a grain of rice in a large pile.  Our lives had no significance to their great Communist nation, and they said, “to keep you is no benefit, to destroy you is no loss.”

“Before people were butchered they were forced to dig small pits. None of us had the energy to fight back, because we didn’t have enough food to eat. After the pit was ready, the soldiers tied our arms and ordered us to kneel near the edge of the pit. Then the soldiers hit us with heavy hoes, bamboo sticks or axes. There were shouts of pain and moaning. Blood ran from our nostrils, ears, mouths as the objects crushed the backs of heads. Some did not die when pushed into the pit, so they were shot in the head and covered with dirt.”  

These pits became known as The Killing Fields.

Staring Real Poverty in the Face

Cambodia’s Tonle Sap is said to be the largest lake in Southeast Asia and its most interesting attractions are floating villages.  We drove down an extremely dusty dirt road that only existed during the dry season.  Come rainy season, the road will sink up to 30ft. below the river that flows into the mouth of the lake.  The river is low and looks more like a mud creek.  The people living along the banks are so poor.  They dwell in bamboo huts lifted off the ground with wooden poles, maybe 4 inches around.  It’s so hot that everyone has gathered under the only shade there is; the dried palm roofs.  There are no trees, just a blanket of baked brown.  We stopped at one point to take some photos and several children ran over to the car, some clothed, some not.  They begged, “one dollar please, just one dollar”.  We were sure it was the only English they knew.  Their dirty, sweet, little faces were so desperate.  In the few seconds it took us to reach for our wallets to find some singles, more children came to the window and now they were fighting for the front spot, all reaching their hands into the car to be the one who received, what may be, the only money the family gets that day.  Pulling the dollars out created more anxiety and they were literally shaking and fighting, all yelling, “please one dollar, please one dollar”.  We handed out the bills that we had and two boys had a grip on one and neither would let go.  The driver moved ahead and we felt awful.  We have never witnessed such utter desperation. So sad.

The people who live along, and on, the river and lake have known no other life.  Families have been there for generations.  They move their homes with the flow of the water.  When the water moves down, they move their homes down, as the water moves up, the move their homes up.  As we drove closer to the lake we actually witnessed a group of people moving a home.  Unbelievable.  They are at the mercy of the weather.  Most earn their living from the fish that they catch and when the water is low, as it was while we were there, the fishing is not good.  Some run boats for locals and tourists.   We parked where the river was deep enough to get on a boat and took a trip out to the lake to see the community of people actually living, and fully functioning on the water.  We were awe struck by this unusual way of life.  It must be so incredibly difficult.  The population of this community alone is over 10,000 and there are many communities all around this giant lake.  You cannot imagine it until you see it.  Families with many children cramped in quarters some with no electricity or running water, some with what would seem, luxurious amenities, such as a TV and toilets.  They all use small boats to get around, to shop for food, to get the children to the one school at the mouth of the lake, to visit their neighbors.  Most are from Vietnam and are highly discriminated against by the Khmer people. 

This place is a photographer’s dream…an intriguing image in every direction.  As we docked at the floating restaurant, many small boats followed us, each carrying small children begging for money, “one dollar please.” The mother’s would have bananas to sell.  One child had a large snake in a metal basket that he wanted to take out and show us.  Eek, take the dollar, quick!  The most creative getup, was a little girl, who stood at the front of the boat like a lake princess.  She had a colorful bunch of flowers on top of her head, a bright plaid dress, a pacifier attached to a ribbon as a necklace, and a snake wrapped around her neck.  She deserved a dollar for the most innovative, for sure.  What a crack up!  More boats pulled up as we ate lunch.  Our guide told us to ignore them or the whole village would show up.  The lunch was fried rice, although in hindsight, we should have passed and waited to eat at a more sanitary establishment.  I paid the price the next couple of days, if you know what I mean. 

We found this lifestyle absolutely intriguing.  How anyone can survive this way is incredible.  The hardest life title goes to the tenacious people of Tonle Sap.

I found the answer in a leaf

Structured religion has never spoken to me. I have experimented and dabbled throughout my life, always with the same ultimate outcome...a feeling that it just doesn't fit. Living a moral, caring, sharing and loving life has become what I try to achieve.

As I delve into my forties though, the question is raised - can I follow my own moral compass, have a higher purpose, feel enlightenment and grow as a human being without sitting on a pew on Sunday mornings?

I have read dozens of books that say it is possible, yet after the inspiration of the read fades and the attempts to consistently apply the methods have failed, my search would begin again. I have traveled the world  and found myself enchanted with the peacefulness of the Hindus in Bali, the Buddhists in Thailand, and appreciate aspects of Christianity practiced in so many countries around the globe. Can elements of these, and something entirely different be combined to create a customized path that I can follow?

It wasn't a coincidence that I was sent on assignment to cover Lee McCormick's Spirit Recovery weekend in New York City. Although I didn't have a clue what to expect, my mind and heart were open to the possibilities ahead.

Twenty participants gathered in a dance studio on the fourth floor of a downtown high rise. The hustle and bustle of the city seemed in contrast to where I felt my mind needed to be for spiritual enlightenment, but I was going to leave my preconditions behind and let it unfold as it may. I was just happy that no one was wearing a purple jogging suit and KoolAid was not available on the refreshment table. We all took off our shoes and set up chairs in a circle in the middle of the room. Many people knew each other from previous retreats. For me, this was a testament to what the experience had to offer.

The first half of the day was spent in our circle with Lee guiding us through the Toltec philosophy and how we can apply it to our lives. Don Miguel Ruiz's Toltec wisdom book, The Four Agreements, was referred to many times. The agreements are:

1. Be impeccable with your word:  Speak with integrity. Say only what you mean. Avoid using the word to speak against yourself or to gossip about others. Use the power of your word in the direction of truth and love.

2. Don't take anything personally: Nothing others do is because of you. What others say and do is a projection of their own reality, their own dream. When you are immune to the opinions and actions of others, you won't be the victim of needless suffering.

3. Don't make assumptions:  Find the courage to ask questions and to express what you really want. Communicate with others as clearly as you can to avoid misunderstandings, sadness, and drama. With just this one agreement, you can completely transform your life.

4.  Always do your best:  Your best is going to change from moment to moment; it will be different when you are healthy as opposed to sick. Under any circumstance, simply do your best, and you will avoid self-judgment, self-abuse, and regret.

Lee explained that in the Toltec teachings we are born unconditionally loving beings, and then we inherit our legacy of judgment. Every human being is unique with their own experiences, emotional triggers, patterns of responses, etc. We could all be listening to the same conversation and each of us would interpret it differently. We only hear what we choose to hear and then we let the voices in our head take over. But, we are not the voices in our head; we are simply the one listening. Our minds can turn a simple statement into a mini series. But, if we stop, feel the emotion, whether it is pain or anger, then ask ourselves, "Is that the truth or is it a lie?" If it's a lie, move on.

In turn, we are completely responsible for how we deliver our message, but we are not responsible for what others hear. With awareness, we can take responsibility for our thoughts and actions. The bad agreements we make with ourselves make us miserable. If we don't like where our life is going we should let go of old knowledge and bring in new knowledge. Reprogram  and change our story. Instead of creating a novel too heavy to lift, filled with drama, and tales of how we have been victimized; we can write a beautiful story that everyone wants to have a chapter in. Free will gives us the power to recreate our reality. We can make our lives something that we are happy to show up for.

I then nervously raised my hand and asked the question, "What if your story isn't something that is easily changed? What if  your father has disowned you and your whole family if suffering because of it?" Lee said, "that is the perfect questions for what we have in store after lunch." ..."Ugh!!"

After lunch Tian Dayton, who holds a Ph.D. in clinical psychology and an MA in educational psychology, joined us. She is a therapist in private practice in New York City. Tian's warmth was felt immediately. She explained that we would be doing a pyschodrama.

The purpose of psychodrama role play is to resolve through action insight rather than talk alone. Through role play, thinking, feeling and behavior emerge simultaneously to allow for a fuller picture of what is being carried in the psyche to come into view. "Role reversal" allows the protagonist to actually stand in the shoes of other persons in the role play in order to see the self from the position of the other and to actually experience being "in the skin" of someone else.

I was asked if I would be willing to be the protagonist with my situation. With heart racing and palms sweating, I agreed. Tian asked me to choose people from the group to play my family members involved. I chose someone to play my mom, my dad, both of my sons, and my ex-husband. My cast family and I all gathered in the center of the circle. I began by speaking to my mom. I faced her and held her hands. The tears flowed. I said, "I wish that you and dad could have found a way to communicate with each other about your problems and your issues. I think it would have saved us all from some of the suffering we are going through now with your divorce." Then I switched foles and stood in my mother's place. I responded as my mom, "I wish that we could have done that too honey. I can't change the past though. I can only do my best now." I then stood in front of my father. I swallowed deeply and through my gasps from crying said, "How could you disown me? What is wrong with you? Don't you have a heart? I have children and I can't imagine my life without them. I know that this is the worst time in your life and I want to help you through it, but you won't let me in. You hold on to your anger like an appendage! Is this working for you somehow? You disowned your mother and your brother fifteen years ago and you didn't look back. How can you be so cold?" I then switched roles and had to stand in my father's space. I responded as him, "You just don't get it. I'm done with you people." This went on, back and forth for about 45 minutes. It was gut wrenching, but with Tian's guidance and the help of the brave people playing my family members, I got through it. In the end, I felt sympathy for my father and I knew that I could have a happy life, with or without him. I resigned the idea of being able to control anyone, but me. Tian had me assign an angel to look after my dad. And Lee gave me an amazing gift. He told me that the next time I see my dad, go up to him and simply say, "I'm going to love you whether you love me or not." I resisted the idea at first, but the more I let it sink in, the more I knew it was exactly what I needed to do. It was time for me to take responsibility for my own emotions and actions. My father's response doesn't matter.

After more than an hour of playing out my psychodrama, I was beginning to feel guilty that I was taking up too much of the group's time with my problems. When we were done, Tian asked each person in the group to tell me what they thought and how they could relate it to their own lives.

What happened next has changed my life forever. I was overwhelmed to discover that each person witnessing this painful exercise was able to apply it to their own lives and their own story. Some had gone through a similar scenario and identified with me, while others related to my sons or my mother. It was amazing. And honestly, I really feel like I'm done with it. I can move on. Whether acting out the drama or bearing witness to it, this is an incredibly powerful way of resolving painful relationship issues and connecting people together. The love in the room was palpable.

More members of the group opened up and freed themselves from the part of their story that wasn't serving them anymore.

One grieved over the love that she never received from her mother. Another woman showed us the pain that she feels being a black woman in a society that sees beauty as blonde haired and blue eyed. And someone else worked through her horrific childhood filled with abuse. Our stories were different, yet our pain the same.

Saturday felt like a reunion of twenty best friends. Lee continued his teachings and we absorbed his words like a bunch of sponges. We walked along the river through the city with our minds and hearts open. We visited The Chapel of Sacred Mirrors, an incredible gallery of work by Alex Grey where a series of paintings allowed us to see ourselves, and each other, as a reflect of the divine. At night we met in Time Square for the spectacular theatre production of The Lion King. We had dinner at midnight at a typical New York deli - getting to know each other and ourselves. 

Sunday, our last day, was met with mixed feelings of being elated from the experience and the connections, but also a real sense of knowing that it was about to end and it would be up to each of us to continue the practice.

We gathered in the morning, getting ready to walk to Wall Street. Lee asked us to keep our minds clear and focused on the answer, whatever that meant to each of us. He asked us to look for something that was symbolic of the answer as we walked. The group divided into small groups and talked and laughed, like close friends do. I walked alone for a bit and I took in the beauty. The fall leaves covered the streets and sidewalks with a blanket of gold, amber and ruby. I picked up a perfect bright leaf and decided that this was my answer. A leaf holds tight to the tree until it can no longer hold on, eventually it has no choice but to let go, the cool breeze picks it up and carries it away from the only place it has every known, but the leaf knows it is time to fly and land where it may.

I place the leaf in my pocket.

We arrived on Wall Street and the mood changes. Lee asked us to gather close, to close our eyes and feel the fear that is encompassed in this space. Then he told us to turn to see Trinity Church at the end of the street. It was glowing in the sunlight and wrapped in shadow; a magical sight. The bells were ringing as if to say, "I'm here. Don't forget what is important." We walk to the church and enter. The energy inside was in startling contrast to the outside. There was such peace in this sanctuary. We allowed it to sink it. Lee then led us out the back door of the church into a beautiful old cemetery. We gathered again and closed our eyes. Lee asked us to think of it as a place of change. He said, "Pick up a leaf and walk alone in silence, contemplating what the leaf signifies to you. Hold on to it or let it go. It's up to you." With my hand in my coat pocket I touch the leaf that I picked up earlier and thought, "Was that a coincidence?" I told myself to not over-think it. Pulling the leaf from my pocket, I held it gently in my fingers. I slowly strolled along the cemetery path. After a bit I stopped in front of a beautiful group of tombstones and I released the leaf, watching it fall...letting go, letting go, letting go.

To say that I am grateful for this experience would be a vast understatement. I have made genuine connections with the most warm-hearted, loving people. I have a new view of myself and what is possible. I am excited for the journey ahead.

My new question is, "What would LOVE do?" I like it. It fits.