Gyrations... Day #2

Wow. Gratitude is a challenge after a crappy day. But I made a commitment to this and I'll stick to it.

Today, I am grateful for:

• Crappy days
• Waking up to snow coming down. I am like a little kid mesmerized by a snowglobe. Except that I am IN the snowglobe. I could sit for hours watching snow fall from the sky.
• Real, feel-it-in-your-bones genuine hugs. Yooowwzzzaaaaa!!!
• Fiana.
• Skype-ing with Fiana. Heartfelt conversations from halfway around the world, sharing pieces of ourselves via cyberspace.
• Vegetables and bananas. Not together.
• Being in pajamas at 8PM on a weekday (what a welcome break!) after plans of rehearsing all night have been foiled by fresh powder on the driveway which could mean roads that make like skating rinks
• Mothers. Love you, Mom.

Namaste!

A Napa Story (Part 1 of 2)

Napa is about stories - stories that are born, made, told, retold, overheard, shared, passed on. It is a place where people.. strangers... of external differences connect over a glass (or more) of wine. It is a place of wonderful landscapes and a myriad of colors that inspire and imbibe conversations and laughters. The place and these human connections you form here intoxicate you. And yes, the wine could, too.

I have been to Napa quite a few times before, but each time, something new about the town, and honestly, I also feel that something new about myself, is revealed to me. Last weekend was spent with a few new friends who apparently share the same passion for life - the good life.

24 Hours in Napa

Hour 1-5

Wine tasting, what else? I have done this a few different ways before but my favorite and the best deal so far has been the Silver Pass Weekend hosted by the Silverado Trail Wineries Association. Thanks to our inquisitive and ever-nosy friend Lynette, we accidentally got the 411 on the Silver Pass Weekend where you only pay $45 to sample wine at 15 participating wineries. The cherry to top that is that these wineries also serve free REAL food! This is the best spanking deal I have seen yet!

In the past, I have done wine tasting on a bicycle. It was a lot of fun and it made the experience very personal. It can be quite a hassle though to carry bottles of wine (if you decide to buy some) in a backpack and ride for miles. Also, Highways 29 and 121 don't really cater to cyclists (who have been consuming alcohol, for that matter).

Hour 6-7

Sober up, wind down. Wine is notorious to make people mellow out. I say give in to the urge for a siesta!

Hour 8-10

Dinner and more drinks. The one common gripe that I hear about Napa is that

restaurants close relatively early. It is perhaps best to plan a dinner early, research your options ahead of time, and call in a reservation. I didn't have the most earth-shattering dinner on this trip. We decided on Norman Rose Tavern, partly because there was hardly anything else open within walking distance from where we parked. I was surprised that the interiors actually exuded contemporary given its name. The menu was creative, but there are sadly not very many vegetarian options. Dinner would be around $25 with a glass of wine, excluding dessert.

I am partial to Italian food and the last time I was in Napa, I had dinner at Azzurro Pizzeria E Enoteca which had excellent, reasonably-priced, simple, tasty Italian grub. I would recommend this and would go back maybe next time! The place closes at 10 on Saturdays.

Hour 11-13

Baila!!!! Head on out to Bistro Sabor for Salsa, Bachata, Merengue and Cumbia on Saturday evenings. For neophytes, there's a short lesson that starts at around 10PM, and the dancing pretty much goes on until 2AM. As it turns out, "nightlife" is hardly existent in downtown Napa. Because I am a dancer, I honestly don't think it's a bad place to be on a foreign city on a Saturday night. Some dancing is better than no dancing, in my meek opinion. Bistro Sabor is a small time operation fueled by the restauranteur's sincere ambition to if not enculturate, at least educate, so it is excusable that there is no DJ and music streams from someone's laptop hidden somewhere. What did not tickle me, however, were the concrete floors. If you're a stickler for wood floors, I say don't even bother going, or at least stop by and drop a note in the suggestion box (if there's one). There are a handful of good dance partners and if you're the self-conscious type, I will warn you that there will be rifts where it will just be you and your partner dancing with a crowd of fifty people gathered around you in a circle.

Hour 14-16

Gatecrash a red carpet event! Not to say that there will be one every weekend that you happen to be there, but there was one when we were there so who's to say there won't be another one when you do?! We were ready to throw the towel in that night but on the way to the car, we heard blaring club music. It turns out, there was an exclusive launch party for the 2011 Napa Film Festival. It is crazy sometimes what you can get away with dark hair, a coy smile, a few words, and a cute dress.

Hour 17-21

Breakfast of the Champions - more wine! Check out Calistoga or St. Helena for more wineries. We stopped at Chateau Montelena which is famous for its castle facade and for bringing global attention to California wine in 1976, when its 1973 Chardonnay won against France's white Burgundies. There was also a Chinese garden with a little lake that offer picturesque mountain views. There's also Schramsberg on the hillside which I personally thought was a little drab except that they had the most interesting and biggest cellar I have seen yet.

The Facade of Chateau Montelena

Bottle-lined walls of the cellar at Schramsberg

Hour 21-24

Lunch. V. Sattui is quite popular for its deli and picnic grounds. Be prepared for a throng of people, though, and competing for picnic tables. I personally would not mind sitting on the grass underneath some tree. Great place to shop for cheese. Everything else (olive oil, bruschetta, spreads, seem expensive). An alternative would be the Oxbow Public Market in downtown Napa where they have a variety of local restaurants. They also sell fresh, local, organic fruits and veggies, bread, chocolates, and gifts. I have been here once before and on hindsight, would visit again the next time I'm in Napa.

Cheese shopping at V. Sattui

To be continued...

First Time

Some of my friends find amusement in my “innocence”. I call it naivete, which is a lot of times, co-mingled with an unassuming approach on people. Even after almost five years in this country, I still find plenty of things that stimulate wonder, surprise and questions. There are still too many things I have yet to do, discover and explore. And they are not even the things-to-do-before-you-keel-over type either. They are probably the simple things non-foreigners could easily take for granted.

I spent the latter part of the beautiful Sunday afternoon hanging out with friends carving pumpkins. I could not have imagined a more perfect day to pop my pumpkin-carving cherry. It had been raining all day and the wind was howling as I ran to Peter’s front door. They were standing by the counter and have already started cleaning out their pumpkins (and drinking their beers). Marley ran up to greet me wanting to slobber all over my face. Peter had a wood fire going and music playing. Oh yeeah, this is going to be good.

I’m glad that nobody coddled me or offered to cut up my pumpkin for me. It made the experience entirely mine. Somewhere in between eating cheese pizza, dissing Minnesota’s pumpkin-carving talent (or lack thereof!) and joshing around, Peter started playing this lewd standup MP3 by this comedian Nick Something or Other. A snippet of the interesting conversation:

“Trish, does this inappropriate conversation offend you? We can listen to something else.”

“What do you mean? I’m not as innocent as you think!”

“Well, it’s just that Minnesota said….”

“What?”

“That you’re kind of….”

“Ugh. I don’t want to know.”

“I know you don’t drink beer, but can I get you a drink?”

“Do you have soda?”

He looks in the fridge, shuffles bottles around…

“Umm.. no… I wish I had milk or something.”

“Milk?!? I’m not a little kid!”

That is just HILARIOUS. And the funnier thing is they weren’t being mean about it. They were seriously being respectful and going out of their way to make sure that they don’t do or say anything that will make me uncomfortable. It was rather sweet in their genuineness and intentions not to offend.

In a couple hours, we were done! Behold our masterpiece (mine's the little monster on the far right):

It had gotten dark by the time we had finished. The room was only lit by the fireplace and our jack-o-lanterns. We all sat on the couch, childish grins on our faces, mesmerized by the fire while the wind howled and the leaves rustled outside.

Later that night, I walked into my house with the heavy pumpkin in my arms which I’ve decided I would give as a present to my friend’s kids who I’m seeing in the Bay Area this weekend. As I walked in the door, I thought about how much joy there is in doing things for the first time – monumental or miniscule. Then I got to thinking about how short my not-so-bucket list is, which I take as a good sign that I don’t really need to accumulate and collect to make my life meaningful. I honestly believe that it already is. Meaningful. Purposeful. Not entirely joyful all the time, but I accept it for what it is. I don’t believe in keeping a list of “things to do before I die” because the reality is, we must be prepared to die at any given moment (this is very heavy in Eastern teachings). Tomorrow does not exist. I often say that I am ready to die for the most part (well, at least conceptually, but who really knows?). But then I wonder if the true test is not death but dismemberment. Whether the measure is that at any given time, you are ready to lose a limb, lose one of the five senses, lose your mental faculties. When you die, it all ends. But when you get decapitated, mutilated and maimed, you are technically still here, but your ability and power to do things as you’ve always done them before are no longer available to you.

I am fearful of this more than dying, to be truthful. This makes me realize how I am deeply attached to the things my body and my mind enable me to enjoy and experience. I could not imagine not being able to dance. I could not imagine not being able to do Yoga asanas and attempting to do cartwheels. I cannot imagine not being able to look in people’s eyes and penetrate their souls. I cannot imagine not being able to take a walk when it just rained and inhaling the intoxicating fragrant smell of wet pine.

So all I am left to do is cherish these things while they are here…to really surrender to the present at any given moment, as if I’m doing, seeing, tasting, smelling, hearing, feeling everything for the first and last time simultaneously…

Namaste!

The Moment of Truth

It did it! I have trained myself to run. And today's ultimate frisbee game was testament to that glorious achievement.

I caught up with Minnesota earlier in the week. It is rare that we find both ourselves in town for the weekend and we decided to meet at the Saturday morning pickup game. I haven't been back in the field since my first game. Schedules just haven't yet aligned until this morning.

I was so frustrated with myself on that first day that I vowed to myself that a game of disc will never kick my ass again. It only took four months of training of running about 4-5 miles a week, but the day of reckoning is here. I CAN RUN! Oh, the taste of sweet, hard-earned success...

I had a late night last night, which unabashedly consisted of hours of dancing on three inch heels and shamefully a couple of colorful alcoholic concoctions, and yeah, a shot of Petron. I had a splendid time, so no regrets.

I woke up to a bleak and cold morning (hangover-free, thank you very much) and blisters on the ball of my feet (one day, I will find the perfect dancing shoes that performs 10 on function and 10 on form - hard to find!). I dragged myself out of the covers and made it to pickup half an hour after it had started. To warm up, I decided to run a couple of laps and instantly, I felt my body punishing me for everything that transpired the night before. I had to keep going, I keep telling myself. The Colonel said there's something useful about training your body to perform under duress, so I kept my legs moving, pleading my lungs to please, please cooperate. At the second lap, my hands were getting clammy. My warm-up run didn't quite feel right. I feel out of breath and my foot hurts. Am I going to be a disappointment to myself again? Am I going to run like a freaking girl again today?

I got in the game and was matched up with a skinny 11-year old boy (it was a mismatch, I tell you - he was quick and quite a catcher). The first few sprints up and down the field felt... right. I was waiting for the big collapse from breathlessness which I got plenty of in my first game.. But it never came. It started hitting me -

Oh my God. I CAN FREAKING RUN.

We'll talk about the work I need to do on my throws and catches, but hey, I'm not where I was the first time and I'm beyond happy. I missed a couple of catches, but scored one (pity) goal, so I don't think I came out in the red in the end.

When I wasn't in the game, I was practicing throws and catches with Minnesota and/or the 11-year old. It was such a beautiful day to be out. The views of the mountains were beautiful. The sun came out for a little bit. The people are so easygoing and casual. Although it's a competitive sport, there's hardly any ego involved. The grass was green and Marley (a German Sheperd-pitbull mix) was running around engaging himself in the hippie energy of it all. I thought to myself - this is why I live here. This is why I'm not in a major metropolis right now. I had that pretty much all my life and that is not the lifestyle that appeals to me right now. The quality of my life right now is pretty up the charts and that is precisely the life I want to live. I don't have to deal with the unnecessary stress of long commutes, overpopulation, and all the excessives found in larger cities. I have time (which doesn't have to be a luxury, but sadly, for some people it is) for the more important, nourishing things in life than the rat race that I a

lways thought was the only life for me.

I am at a beautiful place in my life. This feels a lot like the way it did a year ago - with one major difference. A year ago, I was Superwoman. Today, I'm just human, no different from you. After my admission of my Personal Four Noble Truths, I found myself in an entirely more honest place. It might have been one of the most difficult things about myself to face and admit (publicly, no less!), but honest work IS meant to be difficult and painful sometimes. I am teaching myself not to deny my shadow, my ego, but instead integrate it into Me.

And although this place is a lot familiar, there is one staggering difference. I am feeling the tenderness. I am tasting the sweetness.

Namaste and Love to everyone.

Photo of downtown taken almost exactly a year ago

Present

I’m trying to get back in the practice of getting out of my head and just being engrossed in the present moment all the time. Conceptually, it’s one of the simplest meditative practices. Personally, it’s one of the most herculean to master. Imagine repeating in your head: “I am breathing. I am following my breath in and out of my nose. I am stuffing this envelope. I am putting one foot in front of the other. My right side itches – I will reach my left hand to scratch it. I’m scratching my right side.” Now, imagine being in that space constantly. Crikey.

I’ve had a very quiet couple of nights and I did not realize how much I missed those, how good those felt. The last year has been fun and crazy. Socially, the pendulum has swung to and from opposite sides a couple of times, but now it is sitting at the middle. I am loving this reprieve. I am thrilled to be uninvolved and detached again. It is allowing me to set goals for myself, both short and long term. It is allowing me to take an inventory of my life and reinforce those that are most important to me and slough off those that don’t serve me.

I find myself in the familiar mind frame that the Universe is mine. The Universe is me. Such a powerful time.

And indulge me to play play a little play on homonyms here. I got two wonderful presents from Afghanistan today:

I wore both all afternoon. My co-worker asked how I can wear the scarf unwashed. Does the smell not offend me? No, it does not. In fact, that’s precisely why I kept it on. I like the fact that in an odd way, I was coaxed to reflect on the existence of other human beings. All because I have a piece of a foreign, far away land and culture with me. A few weeks ago, this scarf that I have draped around my neck was in the desert where it’s a punishing 120 degrees, where there is unrest unimaginable to me right now, where the women do not have the same rights as I do, where children are protected from lives of entitlement…

Yet at the same time deep, deep down, despite all these exterior differences, somewhere in a different part of the world, regardless of what the geographic, economic, social and political landscape out there is, there lies a place where people are people; and they are just people like me. Wearing the scarf made me feel somehow connected to the nation comprised of people no different from me or you. The smell of Afghanistan travels to my olfactory senses and I imagine the man (or woman? Are women allowed to work in that part of the globe?) who dyed the fabric painstakingly and created the aesthetic patterns. I hear the tiny bell sewn at the corner make its little playful jingle (which for some odd reason reminds me of a meditative bell) and I try to get in the consciousness of the Afghan man/woman who added this little detail and I ponder if this had any cultural or religious relevance. The scarf brushes my face and I can almost imagine the deep facial lines, the yellowing teeth that are exposed with the friendly, open smile of the jovial, enterprising man who peddled the scarf.

Alright now. I better hurry. I'm getting picked up in half an hour and we all know it takes me longer than that to get ready.

Namaste and TGIF!

Karaoke, Lumpia.. Kumbaya!!

The Colonel sent me an email today in response to my latest blog post. I was fighting tears when I read the email. Sometimes, I feel very alienated because it seems like I'm going through growth and transformation at precocious speeds. I look around and no one else seems to be going through the same introspective experience. Some of the things that matter to me, I find don't matter to other people. The things I ponder on like consciousness and true unconditional love seem absent in what people think about before they fall asleep. It is a personal journey, and one that is proving to be hecka lonely and I agree with The Colonel, pretty humiliating sometimes. So it is refreshing to have an exchange with someone who has gone through similar experiences. It makes the path a little less lonely and times like these, company is definitely welcome.

When I started writing my blog, I never really expected people to read it. But since I've published it, I've had random people tell me how they appreciate reading about how I skate, sometimes, limp my way through life. But I never expected the encouragement that The Colonel has been showering me with! I am very grateful.

The last couple of weeks, I’ve been spending time alone and have not had any “distracting male company”. I think this could be the longest stretch of time I have gone without such distractions since The Breakup. My resolve is not the strongest sometimes so where my own will has failed, I have prayed for the Powers That Be to intervene. Now that it is here, some cathartic things are cropping up. They are going to be difficult to face, but it is something I know I have to do.

While I think I have done a pretty good job of recovering from The Breakup since it's been a year after all, I still have a lot of work to do. The guilt still eats me alive, and maybe that is a healthy thing to feel. So I allow it to come. I just keep on praying that one day, I get to forgive myself. Forgive myself from what exactly, I don’t even know what yet.

I have a rose bush in the front yard that is 90% dead. A neighbor told me that

I need to cut off the dead branches for the new ones to grow. After I got home from work today, I finally confronted this task I have been avoiding. As I cut the old, dead parts away, I thought how life sometimes works the same way. Sometimes, to live, we must die first.

Now more than ever, I am very fortunate to be surrounded by people like The Colonel and the Italian both - people who do a lot of work on themselves and people who recognize that it is an unending process only possible with God’s grace. They are inspiring people who bring God-ness alive here today, in real life. People who are Yogis in their own right and who are living spiritual, contemplative lives without having to enter the convent/priesthood, without having to leave their professional careers. The interesting thing is there are too many parallelisms between the two to ignore. They are both engineers, both Catholics, and both were addicts at some point. Both are completely sober now and share a passion for fast motorcycles. Funny thing is, they have never met. It will be interesting to bring these two people in a room. Will it instantly feel like they are looking at a mirror when they first meet?

And speaking of gratitude for people who become part of the patchwork of our lives, the most intimate people in my life (sans The Colonel and The Italian who are both out of the country, and a couple of Yogis) gathered for an early

birthday lunch filled with laughter and sunshine on Saturday. It was the first time I have brought these people together and it’s amazing to just sit back and watch how everyone’s heart open up to the person they have just met. There were so many little conversations, I could not keep track of a single one. People were talking about meditation and Artown and religion and history and tiramisu and culture and salsa dancing and Filipinos, before the craziness of karaoke started. There was so much genuineness around, it still warms my heart when I think about it. The Indian made jokes about himself and before leaving tells me he is glad he finally met my Mother. My Mother tells me she sees so much goodness in The Cheerleader. The Cheerleader tells me she really likes the girl who Almost-

Became-a-Nun. The Australian calls me today and said the same thing, except that she mentions the guy who Almost-Became-a-Priest as well. My Indian Sister ran into The-Neighbor-who-Mows-My-Lawn who she knew from college. The following afternoon, after partying until 3AM, the Cousin and I curled up on the couch to get (re) initiated into the genius that is Moonlighting (Oh, David Addison, you make me swoon).

And it cannot go without mention how my heart still swells yet with more gratitude for my Mother, a great, giving woman, who went to such great lengths to prepare such a fabulous meal for all the guests. She slaved in the kitchen and made everyone feel like they were her own family.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is unconditional love.

XOXOXOXO

Trish

P.S. It’s been unbearably hot lately, I know, but today I saw a postman in the 89431 (old/downtown Sparks) walking under the scorching afternoon sun just so you can get your bills, Netflix movie, magazine subscription and other snail mail in your mailbox. Such unsung heroes, these people who keep our postal system running as it should. Next time you are on the verge of complaining how hot it is, it wouldn’t hurt to stifle it and imagine walking a mile in the mailman’s shoes.

P.P.S. The lavender that I planted in the ground a week ago is doing well! There is hope for me after all. I have not killed the rosemarys yet, but the last two lavenders that went in the ground are in a coma right now. I hope they make it. I am secretly hoping that for my birthday, someone will get me this type of evergreen tree I was enamored by (still researching what species it is) at a recent hike, but instead I got a cyclamen, and I’m happy! She even came with an aquaglobe!

P.P.P.S. On Sunday, my Cousin let me drive her Jaguar. Funny how it does not feel any different than driving any other car. So I come to a conclusion that a car is a car is a car. (Of course, I have not yet driven a convertible stick Porsche). I have the same philosophy about people. People are people are people. I know I just labeled a bunch of people in this post, but I felt compelled to do so to protect the anonymity of the innocent. :)