“This pose is the hardest one you’ll face all evening,” I told them. “As gravity takes hold of your hips, the stretch will intensify. Notice your thoughts in this very moment,” I encouraged. Those thoughts in this intense moment say more about you than you even realize. 

It’s good to be home. Home. Oklahoma. Man, it’s great to be here. To say that. However, for the longest time, I wanted to escape Oklahoma. Run away as far and fast as possible. Has anyone else ever felt this way?

What happens when two Americans, a Greek, an Austrian and a French person gather around the dinner table?

You may have noticed I’ve been MIA lately. There’s a reason. I didn’t mean to fall in love. Honestly, I didn’t. While many thought it would happen, I knew that wasn’t what this journey was about for me. But you know what they say about making plans…

When I little, I used to love connect-the-dot pages. Taking my crayon or marker and drawing the line from one number to the next was both challenging and exciting. I was always attempting to guess what the outcome would be – the image that was created at the completion of the activity. Most of the time my guess was wrong.

The other day, a creative spark flew through my mind so quickly I almost didn’t catch it. Then, later that morning, it came back again. And then again, until I finally decided this spark was worth investigating.

I’ve always cared what people think of me. I’m guessing I’m not alone in that regard. In her book “Daring Greatly,” Brene Brown challenged me to consider who these “people” are who often influence my decisions.

In January 2017, I climbed Mount Batur, a volcano in Bali. That climb was a pivotal moment on my journey as I learned that sometimes you struggle in life, but the reward is great for those willing to put in the work. Almost a year later, I chose to end my 2017 the same way it started – climbing Mt. Batur.

7 a.m., my driver suggested. 7 a.m. Doesn’t he know I’m still asleep! 8 a.m., I wrote back. After much back and forth, we agreed I can be second in line and leave at 8 a.m. He brought me an offering. Why hadn’t I thought of that? You put the money in the offering and hand it to the healer Ngurah, my driver, told me.

I’d just leaned my head against the window and closed my eyes when it happened. The sheer terror of it all lasted a mere 30 seconds or so (maybe longer…?). However, time passed so slowly it felt like minutes.

Last Saturday, I sat at the breakfast table telling Nat, the owner of my guest house, that I planned to go ice sating. The look on his face as I said this confused me. Without saying a word he got up from the table, ran to a closet, pulled out some old hockey skates and brought them into the dining room. Little did I know he used to skate and loved it! When the skating rink in Chiang Mai closed down, he’d often travel to Bangkok to visit his aunt and skate. Then she moved. Eventually, he stopped skating altogether.

It’s always fascinating to me how the lessons I’ve learned along my travels continue to show up for me when I need them most. I guess that’s how life tends to work though, you simply have to be open and willing to receive the message. 

The other day, I went with some friends for an hour-and-a-half Thai massage. It was one of many I’ve received since arriving in Thailand. And to be completely honest, I was a little upset because I got an older woman who didn’t put much pressure into her motions. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought my niece was giving the massage. The gentler she was with me the more frustrated I became.

Can you believe I’ve already been gone 60 days? Some days it feels as though I just left and other days it feels like I’ve been gone a lifetime. I know I haven’t updated as much as I’d planned. I’m out exploring rather than writing. So below is the quick and dirty version of my travels and plus a fun list of 60 lessons/thoughts/rants/observations from my first 60 days. Enjoy!

“If you close your eyes and ears, sit quietly, allow the mind to be completely silent and then listen within, you will hear God humming. God talks to us always, but we talk so loud we fail to hear.” Sri Swami Satchindananda, The Yoga Sutras of Ptanjali

Guess what? I cried for the first time on my mat today in what seems like forever. (Just so you know, I’m secretly loving telling you about all the times I cry on this trip.) While trying to get into a pose, my knee started to hurt. On the second attempt, I tried the pose and immediately got out of it. I laid on my mat as tears sprung in my eyes. You’re knee hurts. You can’t do this. You’ll never get this pose. Everyone else is better than you. You’ll never amount to anything. Why are you even trying? You think YOU can teach yoga? My thoughts began to snowball.

On Tuesday, I marked another item off my bucket list – Greece. For years I’ve longed to travel to this country full of history and culture – the first modern Olympic games, Greek gods and goddesses, mythology, ancient ruins, beautiful white houses with pretty blue-domed roofs and blue doors…  wait, where are those white houses?

Last Sunday evening, I went to mass at this beautiful cathedral in the heart of Barcelona. While I couldn’t understand a word of what was being said, it felt comfortable and familiar. As I kneeled to pray before the mass began, I cried. The previous week and all its changes had been overwhelming. While I’d been settling into my routine at the AirBNB, I was leaving the safety of what I’d found for a hostel the next morning. To say I was nervous is putting it mildly. So I did what I always do when my nerves get to me.

To say I was a bit overwhelmed last week is the understatement of the year. Only those closest to me (you know who you are) knew the turmoil that took up residence in my heart.

I’m 3 days in and finally made my way to my mat. This evening found me on a rooftop in the heart of Barcelona staring at a brilliant blue sky as the sun began to fade. And wait for it…I cried happy tears.