white girl problems: part 2

yes, that's a lizard dressed up as a pirate. 

don't worry, we'll get there. 

****

so now i was making pros and cons lists of my dueling dual identities, appealing to my logical mind as an attempt to bring deeper clarity to my deeply troubling predicament.

it went a little something like this:

Gringameleon

Pros (+)	Cons (-)
-intellectually stimulated	-materialistic / consumer self emphasized
-relatable sense of humor = lots of laughing	-judgmental of self and others
-makes time to nurture relationships	-unhealthy lifestyle habits
-productive and efficient	-disconnected from spiritual self and natural environment
-able to cultivate sense of community among like-minded people with shared interests	-creativity stifled by social confines = resigned to complacency

Costa Ricameleon

Pros (+)	Cons (-)
-strong connection to nature	-actions often based on feelings of obligation rather than personal needs/desires
-sense of freedom and endless possibility	-disconnected from sense of community as ‘outsider’
-healthy, active lifestyle	-transient, constantly on the move = lacking stability
-strong spiritual practice and simple living aligned with personal values	-often feel insecure, anti-social and introverted
-creative toward soul purpose and meaningful life	-tendency to deny authentic self to fit-in

okay, so that was fun, but now what? 

yes, it was an eye-opening practice to identify the light and dark parts of me as lived in each reality; yet, still uncertain where the influence of my environment ended and my true-self colors began, the limits of my logic brought little resolution to my chameleon conundrum.

most of all, because i had done well to unconsciously cultivate such distinct versions of self so as to be mutually exclusive in their overwhelming difference. i couldn’t just mesh all the pros together, ditch the cons and call it a day. nope. my selves were so separate from one another that any attempt at reconciliation would be like chopping up a T-Rex and a baby polar bear, smushing their pieces together upside down and saying ‘voila’ without even a whisper of an abracadabra.

i mean let’s be real.

Costa Rica self spoke Spanish with an indistinguishable accent, danced to the moon, sweat to the earth, prided herself on freedom and flit, lived to be barefoot in the jungle, refused plastic bags and paper products, and dated beardy men with long hair and aversions to cities, socks and capitalist pursuit. 

gringa self could be found shopping and debating politics, dining on fancy Peruvian or greasy Mexican while refusing to speak Spanish to anyone – not because she didn’t want to, but because she somehow couldn’t phrase a coherent sentence in a language out of context--, drinking beers and laughing at fart jokes, and even wearing high heels on occasion to attract the attention of clean-cut surfer babes with collared shirts and clever pick-up lines.

…still think i’m joking about the T-Rex / baby polar bear thing?    

on Friday evening, i went to crazy-awesome Enrico’s free yoga class at Aurora. before our three OMs, he talked about the difference between unity and unison. he explained unity as the coming together of two separate parts, pressing his palms against one another as if in prayer, hands touching but each still distinct from the other. he then described unison as something beyond unity, interlacing his fingers now to symbolize integration, the intermingling of the parts in such a way that divisions are blurred and oneness is experienced as an expression of harmony and wholeness.

his words and hands spoke volumes to my slithering distress, omnipresent down my spine.

unison of parts through integration, wholeness; harmony in the oneness of divisionlessness.

well, if nothing else, at least now i had a goal. if only i could blend my colors in such a way that their divisions ceased to exist, i might begin to discover the authenticity of my own-colored skin. 

now i knew where i wanted to go, but how was i going to get there? i was a mid-grade pirate on a makeshift sailboat teetering at high seas; my destination distant, treasure map out of reach.

...but "ahoy there matey! can't ye feel me wind in me sails? arrrrrr..."

christ, now i'm a T-Rex baby polar bear lizard who thinks he's a fucking pirate. 

how's that for an identity crisis?