A Comedy Of Errors

The way pizza night unfolded was brilliant. Like a comedy of errors, the Universe put on a play last night! First, I met my Goddess sister. I’ll call her Conscious. She recognized me as her Soul Sister, and introduced me to her Guide, of whom she referred as her “parting gift” to me as in recent days, Conscious has met her partner, fallen deeply in love, and will be setting off by sailboat to circle the world.

“I must introduce you to Bianca,” Conscious began, “our Spirit Sister on the verge of un-Earthing her full Goddess self.”

“Well, however did you know?” With a wink, and a smile (she can SEE me), I’ll play.

I’ve known Conscious for some time as she teaches yoga at the hotel (I’ve made my office) near my home in Nicaragua, and while I could never bring myself to remember her name, I was always so happy to see her smiling face as her hugs had a way of penetrating my being. There are some people for whom hugs are a meeting of body and soul. Maybe you have felt this? Maybe you, too, will have this pleasure one day… Certainly, that is my hope for you.

So connected am I with Conscious, that the same woman intent on causing me pain has been after her too. Remember the Bully? The “Other“? The blond Malificent, a fugitive of her former life in Canada, a bandita, a fraud, a childnapper, an energy sucker, formerly my neighbor though never my friend in El Camino del Sol, who made the destruction of my life her life’s ambition? With relentless pursuit, she had been after my Sister Conscious too.

So, why am I bullied when I have only love to give? Easy. “You’re a B.I.T.C.H: BEAUTIFUL. INTELLIGENT. TALENTED. CHARMING, and HOT.” Conscious explained. The more she spoke, the more I learned. The I learned, the more I yearned. The more she shared, the more I saw myself in her. She SEES me. I see Conscious. Time and again, a tear would form and fall. Living on the edge of a world you were born into, no longer from there but not yet where you’re going, can be a lonely experience. FEAR NOT. “Keep going…” Conscious directed, almost in warning. “Keep moving…” along your path. “Keep WORKING.” Of course, “work” is different than it used to be. Employed now by Her (not Conscious, but HER: The Universe, my Mother, my Father, my God), I am taken care of. I want and need for nothing as The Universe provides for me. TRUST. I no longer need money.

…Women will be envious of your position, and men will be threatened by your power. Then there are the Unknowing who simply will not understand you. Because people fear what they do not understand, the Unknowing, in their attempt to define you will try to confine you. It can be lonely living differently. Tonight I will be your student, Conscious teach me. “Adrienne was once where you stand: young, beautiful, and on the cusp of enlightenment. But she didn’t make it through, so she’s envious of you. She sees your power and the greatness ahead of you. But she was left behind.”*

SHE DIDN’T MAKE IT. These words hit me hard, sending a quiver of what I can only describe as Fear through me… What if I don’t make it? Of my place, I am fully aware that I. Am. Not. Quite… There. But, of where I am going, I can see there is no place better for me. PARADIS.

FEAR NOT. KEEP GOING. As my entire existence here in Nicaragua is the realization of a manifestation. I must continue to believe.

This past week, I met Em. A traveler staying at Mango Rosa. A passer-through. A girl intent on fighting me. And not just me, but everyone. My first interaction with her, also at Pizza (I must either stop going to pizza, or keep going to pizza) she bitched me out for no good reason. I was crowding her space, she said. While I should have felt sorry that my presence was too much for her to bear, I allowed her instead to get to me. Admittedly, I still have “work” to do. Em was a BITCH too, Conscious verified, but in an elementary stage. Em is fighting hurt. It’s true, she was so angry. I wasn’t enlightened enough to see past her approach. She was mean. But I was sensitive enough to feel her. I mirrored her pain. She angered me. Until last night, I couldn’t understand why I felt so disturbed. I am not angry. It’s only recently that I have started channeling. This gift can still confuse me.

As if meeting my soul sisters wasn’t enough, the play that night was only just beginning to unfold. Do remember the man whose Spirit Preceded Him and the beautiful surfista chica with cascading, sun-bleached waves who captured and stole his attention one year ago at Revolucion? Well A is now my friend, and the Mayor is just another lost soul, I now recognize as not fully connected. For months I wondered how, if I truly hold the capacity to see inside of you, that it could be possible to have been so mislead by him. Now, I know that what I saw some time ago really was his spirit. And both the beauty of his light as well as my recollection of it were true: His Spirit “PRECEDED” Him. Literally, his Spirit walks with him, but not IN him. The Mayor has not committed to his guide. He’s not connected.

*NOTE: this quote was later revised with “yet.” She hasn’t made it through YET.

The Prince And The Pea

Have you ever been in someone’s presence with whom you cried and you laughed in the first hour of meeting? You know immediately you are connected spiritually? And then as quickly as two fingers can be snapped an Other enters your space (your laughter filled space), all-consuming and draining and completely changes your space (so much it isn’t at all what you’ve created), depleting the vibe; Not for the better? What is that called? #why #people #differences #questionsfortheUniverse

“Why have I never been invited for wine, but She Has?” I was She in her sentence.

Some time ago, I opened my heart and denied fear’s captivity (a process which started in the first move of my life from Fashion to Fitness, then New York to Florida, and now onward in Nica). Since that time, my doors ever expanding and my love ever flowing, I meet two kinds of people — well, I have really great sex, but also… I meet two kinds of people: Those who draw me in through their eyes into their heart in presentation of their Love and… Myself, likewise, Open to Love’s Receipt and Return offer the same. And Others, and they are “Others,” less evolved and more closed off. They argue. They feel and act on jealousy. They compete. They are uncomfortable to be around, their presence makes me anxious, my heart rate elevates, I become defensive of my own dreams, they question that which I could never understand. I am uncomfortable, I am leaving: “Excuse me, it’s getting late and I haven’t eaten. Would you like anything? No? Goodnight.”

Mine, is a story of my experience through love. Love’s True Story.

Together in Discovery of Ourselves & Each Other!
xob

http://www.BODYbybianca.com
Now, http://www.NicaYoga.com

At The Border

So I just passed the Costa Rican border and now I am officially traveling alone.

A group of handsome, young German travelers are seated behind me, or rather, I am seated in front of them; I spotted them right away when I walked onto the bus, they took up the entire last row. I hate to say it but because they were white I moved nearer to them. Perhaps I felt that with them I’d have a better chance at common language. But truth is, sitting here, I feel safer. When I left Nica this morning, it was a rush to catch the chicken bus into town. Before I even reached the Café the bus was already in motion towards San Juan. I skipped out on my beach bar tab and jumped in back, the motor running.

I don’t feel too bad though because after all, my BODY is worth far more than the small tab I had accumulated, the largest percentage of which from the night I sat in my long slinky red “beach ball gown,” as a new friend had described it. Just a simple Jersey sheath that clung to every curve. I waited that night for El Chico who wouldn’t show up for hours. Starving, I ate; disheartened, I drank.

I had been so excited for our dinner date. “We’ll meet here at 7,” he said, “I’ll bring the car. We’ll go somewhere.” And, Somewhere sounded like Heaven.

I was all so excited because until now, I hadn’t been entirely myself around him. I’m normally funnier, I would think while I’m with him. I simply I cannot stop looking at his face. His eyes made me nervous, how deeply he looked into me; he was so gorgeous.

I’ll admit I was late, 7:10-7:15, but soon it was 7:30, then quarter to 8. He wasn’t just late, he wasn’t coming.

At 8:30 I received an email by way of one of the waiters. “Jefe” was in el hospital…

When he got to the café, his middle finger bleeding through a thick bandage, I was not the only chica waiting, wanting to to kiss his wounds better. Same surfer chick from the other night, though not Australian, she’s from Holland.

He had not introduced us and I wonder, had he, would he have said, “Tonight, meet Tomorrow.” She went home. Then he went home. But they may as well have left together.

I have been under, on and around the bush enough to know that my connection with El Surfista does not come often. Even in love, our chemistry is rare. I doubt they have got it, though why not wish it for her too?

As for me, I’m alone on a bus to Liberia. Another chapter of my awesome adventure.

I have no flight home.

Smith Jerrod

It’s that episode from Sex And The City when Samantha waits it out for Smith Jerrod at his restaurant, eyeing her opponent as her opponent eyed Smith Jerrod.

When I got to Café Revolucion she was sitting at my seat. I felt I had interrupted something, it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Maybe she was filler, it was me he’d planned to meet. The back of her head fell with long blond waves, I knew she was surfer girl, I also knew from the back of her head that on the front of her face, her eyes were gazing intently at el surfista I had hoped would be gazing intently at me.  Still, I knew what I wanted and I wasn’t going anywhere until he for which I had come was rightfully with me.

I looked muy bonita. Red skirt, short and tight, blue top, soft fabric said please touch me, black combat boots said don’t fuck with me; I am tough enough for your jungle life. My hair was perfection! The walk down the hill had it wind-tossed just enough to give the appearance I hadn’t just spent 20 minutes in the mirror.

The complexity I saw easily when he looked at me made him far from simple, but both his lack of power, nor a roof above his bed meant he would not get on with a girl with a pension for a blown dry.

So I waited it out. No, he didn’t offer up his chair, nor did he revert his attention to me, exclusively. I played it cool. But if his body language wasn’t going to tell the girl with the annoyingly alluring Aussie accent to bounce, my body language would, with a smile on my face. I’m nice, I’ll be your friend; I’m a bitch, I will cut you.

He talked a big game the other day, wanting me to stay, so I couldn’t understand why now he’d pull away; not when we possibly have only today. I had hoped, after all, he’d be a reason to stay. Not that the magnificence of this jungle beach would ever drive me away. I am here.

Well, she left. Then we left. Together.

xo,
Jane