Pura vida!

"Pura vida" is a phrase commonly used in Costa Rica; it translates literally as "pure life." The words embody the free spirit and love for life of the Costa Rican people.

The phrase also describes my experience there this past week. I flew to Liberia in the Guanacaste region of Costa Rica on July 26 and took the shuttle to the Paradisus Playa Conchal Resort. I quickly learned that not only were my meals included but also 24x7 room service and all of my drinks anywhere at the resort. Arriving late that night, I ordered room service and got a full-sized bottle of wine with my meal. What a nice surprise!

I was in Costa Rica for Landmark Education's Structural Connections course, one of their vacation courses available to participants in and graduates of their Wisdom course. Structural language is distinguished as the language of objects, including our bodies, and the course was designed to have the participants inquire into their own structural sentences: the ways, for example, that we sit, walk, and stand, as well as the manner in which events in our lives can come to inhabit our bodies in ways that limit us or produce pain and discomfort.

I wasn't sure what to expect of the course; I had registered earlier this year after reacting to the flyer with a physical sensation in my chest and a sense that there was something in the course for me that would break up whatever it is that gets between me and being fully present with people. After completing the course, I cannot say exactly how it worked, but the breakthroughs I had were huge.

There were 34 other participants in the course which was led by Jane Grandbouche, a Wisdom course leader from Florida. Going in, I knew four of the other partici- pants and recognized a few others from the Bay Area. By the end of the week there was a very strong sense of community amongst us all. As I mentioned a couple of days ago in my blog post, what truly defined the week for me were the amazing conversations. We were in the course three and a half hours a day, and the rest of the time was our own. I spent mine almost exclusively with other people in the course, and unlike my standard pattern, I didn't hang primarily with the people I already knew nor with the same people each day. And no matter who I was with, they were the perfect people to be with. In retrospect, what stood out clearly was the fact that I'd had no "throw away" conversations during the week. Whatever we were doing--eating, laying on the beach, aerobicizing in the pool, or touring the rain forest--people brought a depth and intentionality to their dialogues that is so rare in everyday life.

This was my second vacation course, and in the first one I had paid extra to have a room to myself. I had wanted to avoid having to deal with any issues arising from having a straight roommate; interestingly enough, having more freedom and ease around being with straight men was something I wanted to get out of that course. (And I got it! :-) My roommate Shannon was a great guy, immediately eliminating any concern that I might have had.

During the week I began a friendship with John, the travel agent who had arranged the trip. Enjoying the sun together on the beach one day, he triggered a memory I had of a junior high dance and a horrible moment when I noticed that the girl who I was going to ask to dance had cringed when she saw me coming. I realized that years later after I had come out, that event was still often in the background when I went out dancing at 177 Townsend, the club space where I always felt like a king, able to approach anyone and say anything. I felt unstoppable, but there was an unrecognized subtext of completing that humiliation from years before...

WE LEARNED A DECEPTIVELY SIMPLE structural exercise in the course which we practiced in groups of five before moving on to using the technique by ourselves. The exercise consisted of processing our thoughts, feelings, and physical sensations in the moment, and in its simplicity gave us huge access to unexpected insights. One night while doing the exercise with other participants, I found myself experiencing a particular moment from childhood. It is the first memory I have of something being very wrong, and while from my current perspective it seems trivial, it was traumatic to me as a child.

I was the oldest grandchild on my mother's side of the family, and for a number of years Easter had been all about me hunting for the Easter eggs. Then my sister and cousin reached the age where they, too, could participate. Knowing that I already knew what I was doing, my mother, grandmother, and aunt all helped Molly and Julie. It was such a normal thing, but to me that morning it meant that I was no longer wanted. I pouted and cried and took myself away... and taking myself away is what I have always done since then when I face failure.

It seems like such a silly thing to be traumatized by, and my mother has asked me what she might have done differently to have prevented it. "Nothing," I always tell her. And if it hadn't been that event, it would have been something else. We all experience failure for the first time at some young age, and we all decide that it means something. Whether the event is big or small matters little; in the world of a child, the fall from grace is inevitable.

Sitting on the floor doing the structural exercise in Costa Rica last week, someone asked me what I was present to, and for a few seconds I was that little boy again. I have talked about that incident many times, but this was different: I was experiencing the emotion of that moment for the first time in 35 years. And I cried that little boy's tears.

In reflecting on the experience, I saw that that little boy no longer serves me, that I don't need to carry around that pain anymore. I got to complete that experience.

ONE OF OUR ASSIGNMENTS was to watch other people and identify what we liked about how they walked, sat, etc. And then, once we had developed a sense of what we liked, we were encouraged to steal from people. (No, not their cameras!) Jane told us that we weren't stuck with the structural sentences that we already have, and like changing our shoes for different activities, we can put on new structural language as we move through life.

Mario was the fitness trainer at the resort, and I had met him one day in the gym. We'd had a nice chat about what he liked about his job and working with people. A day later I joined him in the pool and tried water aerobics for the first time; he had pushed us hard but always kept it fun. Someone described him as being "completely comfortable in his body."

The second time I did water aerobics, I watched him carefully, and I identified some things to steal: his slightly bow-legged walk, his smile that revealed not only his upper teeth (as mine does) but also the lower ones, and his habit of humorously lifting his eyebrows (my eyebrows are primarily used to warn). After the aerobics session, I asked his age: twenty-five.

It occurred to me that I didn't need to steal any new structural move- ments or postures from a 25-year-old. In Portland earlier this year, a young friend told me that I was a kid at heart, and it really resonated. I really enjoy getting crazy and having a good time, and I have many young friends. I'm often attracted to young men; I love their energy.

What I don't own all the time is that I'm a man. That may sound strange, but so often I still feel like a kid. Even riding in the shuttle from the airport to the resort, I had the feeling of being a boy on an adventure.

Last fall I had flown down to SF from Portland for Folsom Street Fair. On Sunday morning I had been at a club dancing, and while standing in line for the restroom, I had caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

When I was in my early and mid-20s, I remembered seeing gay men who were MEN. Strong. Established. Powerful. And that morning I had seen myself as such a man, staring back at me in the mirror. It had surprised me.

In Costa Rica, I got really in touch with being a man, and I chose to steal from the awesome men in the course, like my friend Mark. One day in class he had stood up to his full 6'-plus height, and the powerful presence that he is filled the room. Now that is something worth stealing!

So many men in the course--Mark, my roommate Shannon, Brad, Red, Jeff, Clark, Sam--contributed greatly to me during the week. Many women did as well (and wow, were there some amazing women! Dolly, Marlene, Christina, Ellen, Eve, Roxanne, Monica, Cathy, Sandra, Della, Linda, Barbara, Elissa amongst others). But in this course it was the men that really made a difference for me.

THE LAST NIGHT OF THE COURSE we had a meal at Mar y Sol, a marvelous continental restaurant near the resort. The dinner was filled with exploration and inquiry, and afterwards a few folks and I went skinny dipping in the Pacific. It was my second night of doing so that week, and like the first the surf was filled with tiny bioluminescent creatures that glowed as we splashed about. Five of us sat in the waves and shared our experiences... freely able to just be with each other after having bonded so quickly during the week. It occurred to me later that the real bioluminescent creatures at that resort were us, the folks in Structural Connections.

I crawled into bed around 2am, and while I had to be up just four short hours later, I lay there for an hour thinking about all that had happened during the week. Out of all of the week's experiences--completing the pain of that little boy who didn't get all the Easter eggs, getting to own that I'm a man, really hearing the acknowledgment that people gave me, and enjoying so much ease in being with people--I had a brand new, deeply felt sense of who I am.

What an absolutely awesome feeling. I think it must be what the Costa Ricans mean by "pura vida."

Note: I went to the CarbonNeutral Shop and offset the CO2 emissions from my flight to and from Costa Rica. It cost me $18.