Pachamama - Superwomen show cry
It’s been four months today since I've entered this magical country for the third time, the longest time so far. I’m sitting on the back of a horse - Mimi. In the middle of the Great Caucasus. The air is fresh and cold. The snow around us glittering in the sun once it’s working her way through the thick clouds moving through the mountains bringing the first snow. The surrounding astonishing, breathtaking. Rocks covered in moss, the high snowy peaks of Ushba and his friends around us covered from pine trees carrying the first snow. Magic. My guide for today - Bacho. Part of the family of the guest house. He put me on the back of Mimi. After I’ve been served hot Khatchapuri out of the oven with homemade marmalade for breakfast. What a start into the day. He introduces himself to me, asks me for my name and explains in his broken English that he has a horse behind the house and if I wanted to come outside with him after breakfast. And so I did.
Just when I bring down my plate from the breakfast khachapuri he pulls me into the kitchen, opens the oven for me to see five fresh pieces of dough rising slowly becoming this most delicious traditional Georgian khachapuri. He wants to feed me more, I thankfully refuse as he's turning on the water for me. Asking me for dinner smiling he walks me to my room as he sees my travel yoga mat, points me to wait, bringing me a more comfortable one only seconds later smiling at me his brightest smile. But wait how did we get here?
Music is playing in my ears, slowly I get back to myself. He strokes my head. “You’re good" Taking care of all I could possibly need. Yes I need time to myself without distractions and so my wonderful friend sends me off to this remote apparently most beautiful village in the Caucasus in the middle of nowhere. Quiet, peaceful, not a soul outside, only a few locals from the village every now and then passing by into the forest to chop some wood. Me and my warm guest house solely to my own having the warmest family taking care of me. Not at last for the kind Georgian hospitality could no heart remain untouched, no soul torn but recover slowly. “You need to be alone, you need no one but yourself. You’re one of these people magnets, you’re giving out your energy trying to please everyone, forgetting yourself but first you have to love yourself. Find kindness and compassion for the beautiful you are. Maybe you can find one day in the year that you cry for the girl that you used to be, let her go, grief for her and the rest of the year you can be the vibrant, radiant you in all your flying colors, living your inspiring strong self.”
And so here I am, finding myself on the back of this beautiful sensitive horse, unknowingly how I got there, only feeling the connection to nature, myself, the surrounding, the mountains and life itself. Finally arriving in the present moment, diving into the flow of life that I’ve been missing for quite some time. I feel myself breathing again. Freely. The crisp winter air of the Georgian mountains. The surrounding becoming more beautiful as Bacho is trying to teach me some Georgian. I like the way he speaks. At ease, making sure I feel save and comfortable at all times, at the same time encouraging my own skills on the horse, letting me go free only offering guidance when I feel like it. He's whistling - the mountain is whistling back. We’re laughing. He asks me if I wanna go to a mineral water spring. Nothing I'd rather do in this winter wonderland lifting up my spirits, soaking in this setting as much as I can. Starting my fifth month in the vast Caucasus mountains of Georgia - alone with a mountain man named Bacho, giving me a tour in this enchanted place. Murman sees us out the window, he’s waving in excitement. „Pictures, Lina, horse, Ushba, guesthouse“. The message is clear. Not do I do anything rather than doing their Instagram promotion. "You’re sports man?" strong girl. He says. This seems to be the overall perception of men around me lately. Trainer. Coach. Sportsgirl. I smile knowingly. Yoga. Sure he likes yoga girls. I feel funny. I feel like I was born on a horse. It reminds me of the adventurous horse back riding in the mountains of Kirgisistan, only then it was nothing but a struggle when today it’s nothing but a bliss. I’m full of joy. I needed this. He shows me an old communist house and tells me all the story. We're entering a magical forest where he’s telling me stories about meditating, bonfire, and yoga in summer time. Slowly we’re closing the circle going back. Taking off his second pants, he’s getting on the back of Mimi as well. Just for a little bit we ride together through the muddy paths, the hilly fields, snow coated rocks before he gets down again. He’s walking in twists and turns in front of us talking to one of the neighbor mountain men in Svan, Mimi following his each step like the most loyal pet. A last photo session once we have returned to the house. I feed my patient vehicle bread and sugar before returning to my quiet time.
In this exquisite beauty in this lovely, peaceful time in a place where I can reconnect, find myself again, calm down, disconnect from external distractions, all the thoughts clouding my mind, judging trying to control my all being. Making me superwoman every day, not giving in. My ego pushing me from one thing into the next but most of all keeping me busy to keep me away from my deepest feelings that may crack my identity I protect so carefully. No space for shame, pain and grief for sometimes not receiving the love I feel I deserve, for my longing for attention from people I give importance instead of finding peace inside of myself. Appreciation for who I truly am. I am still pushing. Pushing for more, better, faster, stronger, more Beautiful, more intelligent, more reflected, more powerful... But once I am entering a safe space... My tears start rolling out of my eyes, dripping, falling, flowing. In floods. Pouring like a waterfall in summer time. Hidden shadows of fear, not feeling enough, functioning appropriately as I shall to be fully loved. The fear of shame of losing my identity up to my whole existence. Tears of being lost at times and not letting myself feel these uncomfortable feelings. Not allowing myself to integrate my shadows, let alone recognizing their mere existence. My sorrow. Getting there step by step. Slowly. Starting here today with myself. Only myself.
Gratitude. Tears are running down my face. My heart is filled with love. My body shaking. Overwhelmed I close my eyes. I feel the fresh air on my face. The cold winter air so clean, so crisp, surrounded by the majestic mountains of the Great Caucasus with their white sugar coated peaks. I'm in solitude in this vast, most astonishing landscape. I sit down on a rock, my eyes blinded by the sun shining so bright from the crystal blue sky, my body slowly warming up from my dip into the freezing mountain river, my skin turning from numb into freezing cold, shivering gradually transforming into warmth not being able to distinguish between the temperatures as one is becoming the other. But wait, how did I get here again?
In every bush a cow, behind every tree a horse, grassing, drinking from the pristine waters. I can’t imagine it differently anymore. Each house you enter, people just ask you in, invite you for Chai or food with them, sitting on the fire making space for their guest doing their all to make you feel welcomed, not only but give you a warm safe home for whatever your needs may be. We may call it a guest house or hospitality but it is so much more than that. Do I never leave a place without having the feeling to have found a new family who wants me to come back who wants me to stay with them. Svanland so different the mountains, the people and the life, surprises me once more with their kindness and open caring hearts.
After a heartwarming, exciting night having this lovely family feeding me and having one too many Chachas with Bacho, becoming part of the house, singing, laughing, listening to music, the day rounding up, my heart free and happy. I can still feel it to my bones. The alcohol making my legs shaky as I sit on the rock absorbing the beauty that surrounds me. Like the river run my tears. I can hear it next to me, the shore covered by the perfectly shaped white rocks. The pine trees by my side but not blocking the breathtaking view on the mountain range around me protecting my process. I take a breath. I'm there. Here. Now. Tears. I feel so free, so connected to the Universe, protected by the mountains who are only there for me to hold me in my pain, in my grief for my little girl who only wants to be seen, understood, loved. The mountains understand, they keep me save. I can be me now. I can cry it’s ok. The Universe is out here for me. As I dive in I feel clarity, gratitude, happiness. Pieces of the past weeks evolving inside, integrating my little girl's pain in my strong, colorful self today. The sun lifting me up I start running farther into the wild, singing, laughing louder each step I take. „No more tears left to cry. And so I am in this state of mind I want to be in all the time." Young, wild and free embracing my shadows. No I'm not always strong. I have so much to cry for. The same gratitude I feel for this endless support I receive every day from my family back home who misses me like crazy, my friends I have been traveling with for many weeks now who love me dearly and truly for who I am, make me grow, hold me in my tears, encourage me to scream louder when I'm in pain, who look deeply into my eyes, hug me tightly, holding my hands until my flood of tears slowly fade for the next moment to be shown again when I step into a safe space. All these safe spaces people create for me every step of my journey.
Meeting friends on the dark street of the village right after leaving the house. Only short we will go to mineral water springs you said, getting plastic bottles. We stop the car, the doors open, shaking hands, kissing, chitchat, Georgian mountain neighbor friendship, doors closing again we keep driving. Into the dark night. The scenario is grounding me, giving me a feeling of home. I’m laughing I’m in Georgia. Only a few minutes later honking, we go back with the car, again doors opening, you get out talking to the driver, architect of hotel you say where we will end up later that night, in the middle of nowhere. Everyone is friends. Wildely sprayed disinfectant again on the both of your hands as it’s not the last time this night. I can’t stop laughing. If my beautiful family back home who were meeting at the same time safe and warm around the table eating, drinking, talking about her Georgian mountain daughter, could have seen me in the darkness with all these Georgian mountain men, no idea what’s going on, in a car to get mineral water from a spring, they may assume I would have started losing my mind over being too far out from home or just laugh at my versatility and adaptation skills that make me feel quite comfortable in the most awkward situations. Bacho puts the volume of the music up, laughing as my family is doing the same, speaking about me, sending me videos. I feel so fully truly loved, connected to the Universe as we finally sit back on the couch of the house after visiting the hotel under construction, having Chai at the oven after inspection, smoking a cigarette outside as Mimi comes to me and the dogs jumping all over me. I stop for a second all this mountain life feels so much like home for me. So normal. So me.
"My mom loves you. She's a big heart. She says you have very strong good energy. Here are many people but you’re special. You can always come back here. Have a room here for you and food. No money.“ Bella is bringing me more fruits and chocolates to eat smiling her beautiful wise smile. „You’re super girl. You are super woman. Chemi Gogo.“ this is how I’m being perceived. Am I your girlfriend? You want to marry me, have children. As this seems to become my mantra, Bacho you’re mistaken. This is what I want people to believe and I’ve become a master at it. I tell you no. You’re holding my hands, my cold hands, warming them, kissing them. Warm heart you look into my eyes deeply. Again. You cover yours with your hands, lie down on the couch, I’m not so sure you’re crying, your face so disappointed, truly, deeply sad and hurt. I can’t be super girl no more, I don’t want to be super girl. And not for you. It shall end here. You still like me with boundaries. I need to be alone until I’m brave enough to embrace my shadows. Learn to be happy, not busy Super woman, but being the beautiful shining me.
Walking down the stairs you hear me, “Good morning chemi gogo. I made you breakfast.” You present the table to me, bread, jam, fruits, butter, cookies. Uncovering all the plates you smile and ask me if I want fried eggs. I happily reject. I show you the video of my family from last night, curious and happy you watch it over and over again, point at every person asking for their part and name in the family while I receive yet another message from my cousin. “Even those who are apart are connected in spirit.” And there I sit again the second time today only before noon, feeling that truth resonating inside of me, this heartwarming feeling my loved ones all around me as each of them sent me their love personally. Bacho eager to make me his wife and find my brother a Svan woman.
Only minutes later getting ready to go Bacho hands me bags of hiker’s lunch. “Cookies, cucumber, tomato, bread, eggs, svan salt, very good with tomato. You want cheese?” My heart is melting. Carefully he’s folding the paper napkin around the salt, helping me to put it into my bag. “Good appetite in mountain, fresh air.” As I find myself only two hours later back at the clear, sparkling river, sitting on the white rocks unfolding my lunch, the sun in my face, the snowy mountains right around me, speaking a prayer of gratitude.
And so the Universe decides once again to synchronize around my own words coming true in many ways. Showing off its richness, abundance.
[Sidenote: As I am writing this in a ten hours Marshrutka ride the woman sitting next to me once again tries to feed me donut just in case I wouldn’t get enough food in this country 😅, one minute later my good friend who will come to pick me asks me for Thai food at night. The Universe is sheer endless in its manifestations.]
Walking slowly back the road to the village a herd of cows is coming down from the mountains, walking slowly back home into the village. I throw some trash in the container, sing along with the music in my ears as I turn around I see Bacho’s brother waving at me, I smile and wave back. My homely feelings. As I continue walking I see an old Georgian bebia, stopping at the fence, two huge bottles of mineral water from the springs in her hand, the bag over her shoulder. She puts everything down, her back is round and bent. She looks fragile. Too petite to carry all this weight. I go to her I smile and grab the bottles, she’s smiling shaking her head. I smile back “Ara. Khorosho” I say. That’s all I know. She hands me her bag, stroking my back, smiling, touching her heart. I can’t stop smiling. A few times she will try to take the water from me. I don’t give her water back, instead I laugh and shake my head. “Guli” is the most I understand from what she says. HEART. Her kind energy makes me feel warm. As we reach her land we cross the garden, full of apples, she guides me to the terrace, invites me for coffee, not allowing me to take off even my dirty shoes. A man and a woman (presumably her children) are happy to welcome such an unusual visitor as well with our four languages which none of them is matching we still find our common language. My stomach filled with coffee and chocolate, a bag full of apples in my hands and a happy heart in my chest, I leave their garden. The grandma waving at me thanking me again. Nachvamdis. Smiling I return to my house where Bacho is already awaiting me in the door happily laughing. I tell him my story, he hugs me, takes the apples, helps me opening my shoe laces. He says: “I know babushka, is my friend, you see? Vegetarian soup for dinner ok? Chacha?” After trying to convince me of your worthiness as being the man by my side for a whole other night you personally drive me to the Marshrutka that’s taking me away from you. I feel your honest sadness. „You come back. Maybe next summer?“ I’m also sad leaving you. I felt truly appreciated and loved by you. You hug me tightly, take my backpack into the bus, I enter, one last glimpse you’re trying to get through the window to see where I sit to wave me goodbye. I will miss this magical place, the last days of the sun on snowy Mount Ushba, the wild solitude, giving my heart peace and the people in it.
All these incredible people loving me for who I am I finally start learning being my authentic self screaming, crying, accepting the feelings I don’t want to see luckily synchronically being protected by this endless care of them each and every day, deciding to show up in this life and generously sharing their time and energy with me to help me grow into my highest version of self even more though when it becomes hardest for me. I want to believe that the Universe has conspired all their energies in my favor to bring me to this unique place where I could finally start integrating the emotions, the learnings, the insights from the last weeks through breathing, sitting, sharing. Has my shining self image of the brightest star in the sky started to break open into something more authentic, more loving and compassionate towards myself. Recognizing my worth and value not only when serving others but by simply being.
If this is not connected in spirits I will lose my faith. Coming with nothing but my fragile heart in the attempt to reconnect to my self in progress, creating some new understandings, I am once again blessed with a flawless environment so supportive that I can safely try showing myself and being loved for it. The Universe is limitless, so powerful giving me people to grow with who appreciate my all, holding me tightly when I’m the most fragile in their sole interest of making me superwoman again.
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