My two month sabbatical ended a few weeks ago. I learned a lot about ME and more importantly how I want to show up for the world.
The decompression culminated with a trip to Lake Atitlan, Guatemala with my friend AJ. While our original plan was to attend a guided retreat, we ended up charting our own course. Seven days on a deep crater lake surrounded by volcanoes and Mayan culture was epic. The experience shifted my mindset in a way that only travel and new experiences can. Things slowed down. Everything was brand new. The ecosystems of plants, animals and landscape, clothes, behaviors, lack of conveniences available in developed countries, family structures, gender roles and community togetherness. The tiny towns we stayed in and visited were a mash-up of third world poverty, an influx of technology, and spiritual expression. Ancient Mayan traditions held a stronghold on the Lake and were filled with energy, literal volcanic magma, right below the surface.
Nights were quiet on the Lake because boats don’t run frequently in the dark and the only other mode of transportation was walking (or tuk-tuk) and not recommended at night. Safety isn’t high on the list of key characteristics in Guatemala. During these dark and quiet nights, my body buzzed with the feeling of fatigue from maxing out my beginners mind like a kid who’s spent the day playing hard and testing everything to understand how they relate to this world. Layered at the edge of this body buzz was my heart so filled with gratitude. Liz had created the space and supported me in taking this adventure. She was home in Colorado giving her all to the kids, like she so gracefully does. In moments of downtime she’d write beautiful stories of the day and complete the details in her funny and loving ways. The girls were also filling my heart in ways that they hadn’t before. Mostly, I felt a sense of peace and somehow managed to shake the constant worry about them that usually consumes me when we are apart. I felt grateful that I am allowed to be me, to be gay and out, to have a wife and two kids. From what I could tell about life in rural Guatemalan towns, this isn’t even a possibility.
In the Lake Atitlan darkness of December 31st when one decade ended and another began, I set my intention for 2020. I wanted to bottle these feelings I found and hold onto them, let them carry me forward in my journey and begin my focus outward. In giving to others and giving my best to my love, Liz and the girls. In my relentless quest for a beginners mind and love of new experiences rooted in longstanding traditions, I attempted to capture the feelings.
For a while I’ve wanted to get a hand poke tattoo. Hand poke is the origin of tattooing when tribes used symbols to tell a story and depict status on their bodies. I met Nico and immediately connected with him. He’s a nomad adventurer who holds ceremony and respect in his craft of hand poke tattooing; he’s an artist and seeker. Nico listened deeply to the stories and feelings I was attempting to capture. Together, we designed something beautiful. We sat together for over five hours while he created art on my hand and arm, leaning into the pain, meditating on the intention of the design and living in the purpose of the moment. In Nico’s words, “it was SUPER beautiful”.