Inside Out

Fitting In

“Honestly, if you don't fit in then you're probably doing the right thing.” ―Lights Poxlietner 

“Why are you trying so hard to fit in when you were born to stand out?”
―Ian Wallace

For much of my life I have felt like I don't really "fit in".  Maybe because I am an artist, a seeker of truth, or some pattern/way of being/believing that I developed at some point in my life.  Less so now in some ways as I am feeling more comfortable in my skin after many years of personal work, but it is still there.

There is also a strong class piece tied in there.  I was raised working/middle class.  Both parents come from more working class backgrounds, yet with education.  Many generations of women were educated on my Mother's side.  Less so on my Father's side, but he ended up with a master's degree and we were just expected to go to college.  (although only 2 of the 5 have graduated with any kind of degree--a third on the verge of finishing--and the others either happy in their work or have self-taught skills).

I grew up in St. Clair Shores in a small 2 bedroom, 1 bathroom bungalow with a finished basement and attic to accommodate all 7 of us.  It was the part by Harper Woods and Eastpointe (back then East Detroit--before they didn't want to be associated with Detroit any longer), not the part north by the water with the big houses.  It was a mixture of blue and white collar, but mostly blue.  Patti Smith and George Todt (Detroit poet) chose it as their homes.  Mr. Todt once said (back in the 80's), "In Detroit your life is in danger, in SCS your soul is in danger."  It has also been called St. Clair Bores or Snores.... another interesting thing about us east-siders is that many of us have ended up hanging out or living in Detroit, there was a sort of feisty-ness to us that was attracted to that.

So, I ended up in Detroit in 1988 first going to college at Wayne State and beginning to live there in 1990 until just last year.  As far as "fitting in", I never really did feel like I did.  I started out as a punk hangin' out in the corridor at 404.  I've lived in Woodbridge (before it was fancy), the Cass corridor (or more newly labled mid-town), Northwest (Davison and Livernois--the "hood" for real), and most recently Southwest (Mexicantown to the tourists).

All my time in Detroit, I always really noticed my privilege.  Even coming from my humble background. There is also a good dash of white guilt mixed in there. And guilt from my Catholic upbringing, growing up reading Maryknoll (missionary magazine) and my parents tithed the whole 10% of their income, if not more. What this did was kept me in poverty consciousness, I didn't want to have too much more than my neighbor.  I wanted to fit in the best I could.

 So, the flip side of that, when I visited places like Ann Arbor or Birmingham, I really felt my working class roots, and never felt like I had enough, or the right clothes or car or whatever there.  I felt less-than.

So, last year, at the advice of a spiritual teacher, (and my own knowing when I was paying attention), I left Detroit, just across 8 mile to Ferndale, although years ago I never would've pictured myself being one of those people who crossed the border!  (this transition is a whole story in itself).  Ferndale is the first place that I feel really comfortable.  The first place where I feel like I fit in, the people are like me.  There is a nice mixture of classes and races (especially closer to 8 mile here), a bit of funkiness and artists.  It's me.  And now I am going to leave.  I needed to feel this, to know it, maybe to be able to find it internally.

Because where I am moving to, i will definitely be "other" again.  Mostly from a place of privilege again.  Coming from the US, being of European descent (white),  speaking English, and not even to mention the blond hair and blue eyes.  In town, I feel the separation.  I imagine that might change as I get to know people and people accept me as part of the community and not just a tourist. ?

But then there is the fancy eco-chic yoga hotel part on the beach....where the rich people live and play, where once again I am transported to Ann Arbor and Birmingham! 

So maybe the question is: What is the work that I have to do so that no matter where I am, I am one with all, there is no sense of other, no separation, I know that I always belong, just how I am.  And there is no such thing as "fitting in".

Overwhelmed by stuff!

“It is the preoccupation with possessions, more than anything else that prevents us from living freely and nobly.”
―Bertrand Russell  

Wow, I feel like the biggest hurdle right now is dealing with my stuff.  42 years of accumulation.  At least I have moved a dozen or so times over my lifetime.

But I am noticing how much my stuff is managing me, so much so, I can barely manage it day to day.  I know that this purging will feel good in the end, but right now it just feels overwhelming.  So much so, that I am here writing this instead, frozen in movement or taking action.

I come from a background of people that have issues managing their stuff.  It is something my whole family deals with in some way or another.  I think my brother does the best bc he lives in New York and has the smallest space!

I don't consider myself a materialistic person, I don't really have the latest of anything and most of my stuff is second hand or curb-picked. (One benefit of using things til you can't anymore, is that when you get something new, it is great!  ie: even a cheap computer is way faster than the old one, even a 9 year car--vs.23 year old one-- has everything that works with nothing falling off !!)  ....But I tend to accumulate things....Is it the artist in me? .... who likes pretty things?  Things that can maybe be used in artwork.

Which brings me to the thing of "I'll be able to use it someday for something".  Now, this is great in a sense bc it is the reuse part of the equation in the reduce/reuse/recycle cycle, but less so in the overtaking of stuff.

"Perhaps middle-age is, or should be, a period of shedding shells; the shell of ambition, the shell of material accumulations and possessions, the shell of the ego."
 Ann Morrow

In my vision quest last summer, in this move to Mexico, I have been doing a lot of shedding.  I have been releasing my "identities" that I used to define who I am.  I am learning who I really am.  I don't think it is any accident that I read 2 books about people leaving behind their material stuff on a spiritual quest.   I know that dealing with my stuff is a spiritual practice for me.  Lightening this burden is something I have wanted to do for awhile.  Letting go of that which again is covering up.  What am I hiding underneath all of this stuff?  Why do I let it be such a distraction and preoccupation in my life?  What am I scared of?

I guess I will find out!!  Look  for a big yard sale in the spring!

A Little More History....

3 Years Later....

1995

My sister Rosie and I arrived in Cancun from Chicago because it was cheaper than flying from Detroit and I got to see my friend who had moved there.  After a night in Cancun, we got ourselves to Playa del Carmen the next day and got a room at the camping place since it was a little chilly to sleep in the hammocks.  She stayed in Playa and I went off to Tulum looking for Giovanni.  On the bus down, my stomach was doing back-flips, both scared and excited.  It had been 3 or so years since I had seen him, since I had to tell him I wasn't coming back to be with him.  And what if I did find him?  I was already with James, yet not married, but living together.  Why was I looking for him?  What was my intention?  To see him as a friend? To want him to sweep me off of my feet and ask me to be with him?  Would I have? 

  

I had a photo of him.  I didn’t know where to start, but Tulum was the last place that I knew of where he was.  I started asking around and someone told me to go to the boteleria.  It was a relative of his and they pointed me back to Playa.  When I arrived back there,  I went and left a message with her, with the name of the place where we were staying.    

A little later, I was walking down the beach with Rosie, and there he was.  We stopped, didn’t really know what to say.  He took us to see some of the murals he was working on.  We were both so emotional.  He said he would come back in the noche.  When he returned that night,  he talked to Rosie and I for a moment, then he and I stepped out to the beach, we looked at the stars for a brief moment, remembering that that was how we connected in the distance, he kissed me, telling me that maybe one day, “mañana es hoy” and he had a date with his wife, so needed to leave.

I respected that he had a date with his wife, something that made me respect him and love him more.  After reconnecting with him, I got his side of the story:

He was painting a mural in a hotel in Playa del Carmen.  While he was painting the mural, he was thinking about Jenny again.  He was trying to make himself stop, "why am I torturing myself?!"  Leaving to take a break, he was walking down the beach, still thinking about her.  He looked up and there she was, "Is that really her?", he thought.  He couldn't believe it.  They greeted and hugged.  There was another woman with her, that was her sister.  After showing her some of his work, he said he would come back in the night to visit again.

He ended up at the boteleria where his sister worked.  His wife was there with her.  She had said that a woman named Jenny had come by and left her information.  He said, "oh, I think I know who that is", not letting them know he had just seen her, although he was dying to tell his sister.

He made plans with his wife, and then went to see Jenny that night, perhaps for the last time.....?

Some Background History

by Giovanni

So, who is Giovanni? you may ask if you haven't heard any/much of the story?

In 1991 and 92, I was traveling around in Mexico and Central America for 9 months total.  Here is a little something I started to write one day:

1992

I was tired and cold from the air conditioning, my body sore from being on the bus for so many hours from Merida.  I had been traveling through Mexico and Central America since September when I arrived in Palenque in April, not knowing that this place would change my life.  The bus arrived very early in the morning, still dark, with the smells in the street from the night before still lingering in the humid air.  The taxistas were approaching the gringos asking us where we wanted to go in their broken English, me answering in my broken Spanish.   

By Giovanni

Up until recently I had avoided the gringo trail, therefore not seeing many gringos, but also not seeing some of the beautiful tourist destinations that they went to.  We originally started out with a People’s guide to Mexico, and that’s it.  No Lonely Planet to tell us where to go, eat, sleep, drink and change money.  But I think we saw a different view of Mexico this way, staying in family’s homes, eating la comida corrida and traveling by chicken bus and combis.

I must’ve heard of Maya Bell from other travelers.  I told him this is where I wanted to go.  It was still dark, so I hung out in the restaurant waiting for the sun to rise.  There was this incredible screaming noise emanating from the jungle.  I had never heard anything like it in my life, except perhaps in a horror movie.  It was the howler monkeys which when you actually see them, they are small and appear much less menacing than they sound.

With daylight, I could see what the place looked like.  It was an area carved out of the jungle, with a path of palapas around the exterior of the space and grass in the middle.  There were beautiful gardens and tropical flowers.   I chose a spot under a palapa to hang my hammock and quickly made friends with the other travelers.  Some had been living there for months.  I was traveling alone at this time, so it was easy to meet people.  There was Crystal, a hippie in her 50’s and a long time resident there, another young American woman named Beth, Alfonso from Mexico city, and Giovanni, the Mexican artist from Playa del Carmen painting a mural in the restaurant.

So, that was how it started.  We fell in "love", made plans for me to come back soon, and then life happened.  I met James, he met his wife, and now 20 some years later, here we are.

More to come......

Me, with Giovanni's Body Art

Alfonso with Giovanni's body Art

Me swimming in the pools at Palenque

Immigration

So, I bought my ticket.  One way for August 16th.  Originally, I thought I might be coming home in late October/early November to do some temporary work and to complete Changing Woman (women's shamanic work) and be at the closing ceremony of this.   But I am not sure there will be enough work to justify flying.  Not having that return date is making the trip seem even bigger, more "real", more "yikes!".

I am deciding to go as a tourist and see what happens, although they just changed the law that you can no longer receive a temporary resident visa (permission to work) from within the country.  I have Giovanni investigating on his end if I find work if I can just go to the consulate or embassy in Belize (4 or more hours away) or if I have to return to the U.S.

Giovanni said to me, (more or less because it is in Spanish) "come and relax and just enjoy your time.  Get to know the place and rest and paint and do whatever you want for awhile.  If I have an avocado or banana, half of it is yours, allow yourself to be  treated like a queen for once in your life, let someone else take care of you." !! (He knows a little bit of my history of my pattern of taking care of people.

So, also after talking to a good friend from Chile, I decided that moving to a new country, with a new partner, in a new house, speaking a different language, eating different food (and their bacteria),  adjusting to new customs (putting the toilet paper in the garbage, not the bowl), adjusting to a different climate, etc., might be enough to start out with!  That I don't need to start a new job right away on top of all of that either!   Which might also be just taking any ol' job just to get the visa.

My first entry....

I was on the verge of buying my one way ticket to Mexico this morning, but feel that I need to look around more, check prices, should I use miles or not?....or is it just cold feet?  I have learned the power of making a commitment.  Goethe says it eloquently:

On Commitment--Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definately commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issue from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no one could have dreamed would come their way. Whatever you can do or dream you can begin it. Boldness has genius, magic and power in it. BEGIN IT NOW. 

So, even tho there is power in that moment of decision, which I have already made by declaring that I am going, I want to be a little more prudent on the part where I am spending money....I have been feeling a sense of urgency around the trip, so I want to make this decision....that pushing of the button that says, "'Yes, I am buying the ticket for this specific date",without that urgency surrounding it.  So, I may do it this evening, after a yoga class and a walk in the woods.

And I also question the sense of urgency....the busy-ness of researching all of the details of the trip and immigration and phones and questions of what am I going to bring and do with my stuff and telling people and, and, and , and ...... 

So, what is this covering up?  I found out yesterday with the support of a couple of counseling friends....I hadn't yet allowed myself to fully feel that I am leaving.  I opened the gates yesterday, and it visited me again this morning.  I know the more fully I allow myself to feel and grieve this sense of loss, the better things will go for me.  I am not really losing anyone/thing.  They will always be and exist in my heart, and there is skype and visits home and visits to Tulum.....and ultimately, this is a trial run.  I won't know til I get there what will be there for me.  I know I wouldn't have been able to do this without the strong support of friends and community.  Thanks.