Current location:	Panera: easiest Ecoast place 4 "free" wireless w/costly food
Current mood:	grateful
Current music:	Panera's easy jazz
Entry tags:	conflict, releasing, tension

RETURN OF THE YOGA MAT!
Sat 3 June, Kingston, NY

Ever since my well-loved burnt orange yoga mat disappeared from my doorstep a few weeks ago (in Gaithersburg, the DC suburb whence the Kims left), I have been letting myself suffer from lack of yoga, unable to make myself work as thoroughly, often, or long without the accomodating surface and ritualized Place the mat provides.

Metahara observed: “Of course it disappeared; you had just demostrated that you were too attatched to it. It was karma.” She was referencing the episode where I let myself get really angry after some towners used my yoga mat to make walking over a mud patch easier for themselves.

I always had the feeling that Nacho took it, or that talking to him would be the key to getting it back. Sill, though, I was in no hurry to talk to Nacho. (My loss, apparantly.)
Well, I have no proof about the first half of that intuition (he denies it), but the second was right on. Early this morning, 8am, I was walking around with eggs, beans, and oatmeal stashed in tupperware in my purse, trying to find Quirky when she wasn't in marketing training so I could give it to her. I failed in that mission, but when I was behind the concession wagon (where Nacho works), I heard techno music coming from the cab of the truck where the Kenyan acrobats and Peruvian clowns sleep. I walked around do the drivers side to find Nacho chilling out, and felt joyous enough to let go of the old strange stuff, and just say hi and talk about music. After a while, I asked him if he knew where my yoga mat was.

“Is it that color?” he asked, pointing to my purple parka.
“No, it's orange.”
“I think I saw it in 44, folded up in the back with some stuff.”
“Really! Which truck is that?”
“The generator truck.”

I thanked him and headed off to find the generator truck, estatic not only at the prospect of retreiving it, but also that my intuition had been right, and pleased to see the lesson the interaction illustrated for me: Letting go of “Stuff” after having tension with a person, making the effort to open up and be friendly, will bring rewards. Obviously they won't be material most of the time, but receiving something so obvious as a physical object that I had been seeking reminded me to just let go of whatever tension isn't comfortable, and receive the reward of living with more emotional and psychological ease and flow. And what better illustration of “less tension” for me than a yoga mat?

Another example of this is the other night at Camelback when Sredder and I fought over something stupid (built up annoyance about communication tones, basically), and I went to the brewery (yum! Real beer!) ahead of her with Michael and Theo, and sat there stewing in my anger and frustration, unable to let it go even though I said I wanted to, until she came in a half hour later, all happy, came and gave me a hug from behind, and declared,

“I love you and I'm sorry! I hate it when we fight!”
“Me too! I'm sorry and I hate it and I haven't even been enjoying myself here even though I tried because I was so upset! Thank you for being the one to apologize first, it's really fortunate that you can do that, because I'm still learning how.” At lest I could respond with grace, even if I didn't initiate.
“Jane is really helpful,” she explined.

What is it that sometimes makes me hold on to tension, refusing to be the one to apologize first? Not wanting to admit I'm wrong must be based in fear. Fear of not being right... why is that such a big deal for me? Clearly it is not as bad to be wrong as it is to refuse to admit error and fix things. Perhaps the "fear chain" goes like this: being wrong will make me less respectable and therefore less loveable? As in, if I am not doing the right thing or behaving in the right way, then I am a less dependable person, both for myself and others, less good... and sometimes it *seems* easier to insist one is already right, than acknowledge that one isn't, and work toward being so.

Any-Way, I climbed into 44 with anticipation, covering my left ear to block the roar of the generator, and there was my well-loved mat, dirty (again) but safe, folded on a shelf. I retrieved it with joy and gratitude that I hadn't lost it permanantly, and went back to Nacho to thank him, remembering my suspicions that it had been him that had taken it in the first place, but not letting them frustrate me, or make me mad at him. It didn't matter much (except to my curiosity!), now that I had it back. We chatted a bit more about music. I borrowed a CD (Spanish/French/Arabian singer Ishtar Alabina), and promised to burn some music for him (Syd Gris, of course. Every time I've offered music to someone here, it's been that... Ihope you're glad about that, Syd, if you're reading this). Eventually I asked him right out if he took it in the first place.

“I didn't take it. What made you think I did?”
“You were strange to me, and no one else was.”
“I am strange to everybody.”

Finally I confronted him with my belief that he's been lying to me about calling me, and played him the voicemail that sounds like him. He said it wasn't him, and that other people have voices that sound like him. Now I'm not sure. I'm not convinced that either of us is right; it really sounds like his voice, saying in a voicemail exactly the same things he'd said to me other times in person. But if I'm right, it means that he's lying to my face, and that is really creepy. But who else would call me and say those things? Plus, the fact that similar messages (both voice and text) came from different numbers makes me suspect that he was using the phones of a couple friends or whoever to try to mask his identity. I mean, why would 2 or 3 people I don't know call and text me multiple times over the course of a few days, with very similar messages every time, and then stop and never call or text again after I confronted Nacho about it?
The simplest explanation seems to be that it was him, using different numbers, and then he stopped when he realized that he was pissing me off, but couldn't admit it to me, and now won't admit that he lied before.
The idea that he's calmy lying to my face disturbs me, and I certainly admit other posibilities, but right now... I don't know. I'm tired of thinking about it. Does it really matter? Does it matter if I'm right or wrong about this? But I'm curious! Will knowing change anything? Yes, -knowing one way or another- would make me feel more at ease around Nacho, because I'd have a better idea what's going on, and what to expect from him. Well, I may never know, I suppose.

I'm releived and grateful to have my yoga mat back, and I'm glad I went and spoke to Nacho with friendship.