2/17/13
Negril, Westmoreland
9:10pm
I sit in my room tonight watching City of God, a movie about
the slums in Brazil. Despite the rain falling, the bass of the reggae music
from a party on the beach presses its’ breast against my room’s walls, and I
can hear its’ heartbeat. Overall,
today has been quiet. Did a yoga class, and walked to the market; bought some
rum, peanut butter cookies, mango juice and drank sweet water fresh from the
coconut. I had lunch on the beach, homemade for me by my new-found Jamaican
friend, “Wayne” (who’s real name is Dwight but it seems a lot of Jamaican men
go by the nickname Wayne…).
At the beach, the gray sky was brewing a thunderstorm and
Oya (Goddess of the wind) was swirling the air around us. Wayne tells me how
much he wants me to “sit on his face”. (Something I’ve been hearing a lot
lately from the men who approach me). He is happy to dispel the myth that Jamaican men "don't go down" and tells me that when I come back to
Jamaica, I can stay with him. He will do everything for me, the only thing I’d
have to do is shower and brush my teeth, and he might do that as well. Sounds
great maybe….but would have to happen next time. Sitting on someone’s face is
not why I’m here. I can do that in Brooklyn…
I arrived yesterday and spent the day at the beach. The eighty-degree
weather thawed every icy part of me. I sat transfixed by the shore and felt the
vortex of Jamaica pull me further. The first waves to touch my feet felt chilly
but the deeper I went, the warmer it got. I was mesmerized by the aquamarine
water, the smooth sand between my toes and the feel of the sun rays bronzing my
brown skin. The waves crashed in time like someone was under water playing a
huge instrument called, “sea”. I had an all-natural spa treatment as I rubbed
sand all over my body and exfoliated myself. I said prayers and sang
intermittently to Yemaya (Mother Goddess of the ocean). At times, I felt myself trying to push into an
experience, “remember this
affirmation, visualize what you want”
but then I would relax into being. Stop “doing” and just “be”. I’ve come here
with no objective yet a purpose, to just “be”. Some folks frowned when I told
them I was coming by myself. Couldn’t
I dig up some man from somewhere and get him to come with me? Others called me
“Stella” and assumed I was coming to engage in hedonism. All untrue. Yes, as I
sit here in my room alone, I think about Wayne’s offer to be my new seat
cushion. I think how nice it would be to make love in this room, have big
strong Jamaican arms hold me as I gyrate my hips to the sound of the ocean but
that will all have to come next time. I’ve come here to just “be”. I knew as
sure as I know my name that this trip was about me coming by myself to “be”
with myself.
This is my gift, my treat. My making love to my own soul by
feeding it what I want. Right now, I
just want to relax and be at peace, feel the sun and warm moist air kiss my
skin. Be quiet and talk to no one
if I choose to. Flirt on the beach if I want to with no obligation. I have so
many ideas bubbling and bursting through me I need space to let them fly. I’ve
come to think about them but not too much. I have no objective you see. All I
desire is time and space, a vacuum to let something in.
Tomorrow, I go on a trip to the river and waterfalls to do some touristy
stuff. It is my last day here and I am enjoying the beauty of nothingness. In
yoga class today, the instructor talked about going over the edge while in a
pose and coming back just a little to release the place of tension with the
breath. This trip is a yoga for my soul. It is the in between place of stretch
and tension. It is a breath for my body. A place where I loose myself in an
ocean of pointless existence.
