Choice Points
This was a rare sighting of the young 6 year old male Ndimbelimbe. He hadn’t been seen for months after his father was attacked and killed by another silverback. We were overjoyed he survived, though his hand was injured. This was mere steps from the edge of our camp where my personal tent was. I rolled right out of bed and ran down the hill to see him!
To Africa or not to Africa?
If I couldn’t go back, I determined to find a different purpose, perhaps my truer and less shame motivated purpose. I decided to experience what it was like to live from love. I had always chosen work and opportunities and experiences as my guiding force, this time, I said to myself, this next time it’s going to be love.
I have been thinking about life in the way that one does when stuck inside, alone, with a toddler for a week while having a wicked sinus infection during a snow storm. How did I get here? Not in a woe-is-me mired in self-pity kind of way, but a ruminative “wait a minute, hadn’t I intended something wildly different for myself once upon a time?” kind of way. Sometimes, it takes these slowed down moments to wander back on the seemingly disconnected points we travel to see how they make a complete life road.
There were many intersections of possible life paths along my way, but two in particular stand out as drastic choice points for this soul’s life expression. Both of them relate to Africa. Africa, calling. Africa, in my blood. Africa, my longing and my dreaming. And yet, I turned away. Twice.
When I first met my spiritual mentor, much of our discussions centered around my angsty longing to return to Africa. I worked in the Central African Republic (CAR) for a year in 2004 among western lowland gorillas and agile mangabeys, a type of monkey, in the Ndoki-Ndali Tri-National Forest. The park, now called the Sangha Tri-National World Heritage Site, spans the Congo, Cameroon, and Central African Republic. If it weren’t for this deep ache in the pit of my heart, it would be hard to believe now that that was actually me living that reality.
My childhood heroes were Jane Goodall and Diane Fossey, and scientists like them living in the forests studying and protecting nature. Every report assigned throughout school that I could make about endangered species I did. I was filled with a fire to make a difference. It felt like a soul level contract: The planet was to be saved. The animals to be protected. People? Well, they just sucked. I was naturally good with language, an avid reader and writer, but my heart longed to work with animals. My naiveté longed to save the world. So science is the route I took.
My biology degree led to an internship at a big-cat refuge. To get to see them so close each day and care for them, to even touch some of them, was such bliss! And simultaneously such total hellish torment to see these magnificent beasts caged day after day, husks of their wild, majestic selves. It cut me to my core. This was WRONG!!! There is nothing natural about lions and tigers living in concrete. And yet, how could we not keep them? I loved each of those animals like a sister. It broke my heart to leave them because I thought, somehow, both my love and sense of devastation would save them, that somehow being there signaled to the Universe I was honoring our sacred bond.
Mlima, the silverback from the primary habituated Western Lowland Gorilla group in the Sangha Tri-national World Heritage Site, Central African Republic.
But then, Africa came calling. A chance at something wild, something real! I barely dared apply to a posting for volunteers to track, habituate, and gather data on the western lowland gorillas in CAR for a year, but I did. I nailed my interview, had the advantage of speaking some French, and was hired! I can’t even remember how much time I had to prepare, but it was long enough to start to feel really, really afraid of actualizing my dream. Was I made of the same stuff as Jane Goodall? I guess we would find out. I sold what little I had, and my parents sent me off with their hearts in their hands. Gosh they must have been so terrified.
So many stories from that time.
We lived in a small encampment, Bai Hokou, in the rain forest a half a day’s walk from the village of Bayanga. I remember that first day arriving into camp like it was yesterday. The faded orange and red pattern of the handmade cushions on the weathered wooden chairs that would be our only furniture made an indelible imprint on my memory. The red clay and dust that permeated every bit of fabric and wrinkle of skin was broken up by thatched roof paillotes over our eating area and sleeping tents. I was going to sleep in a tent for a whole year! This, for me, was the best thing ever. There were a handful of raised wooden one-room cabins that housed the permanent staff, and our one small hole-in-the-ground toilet with a seatless chair over it was discretely sectioned off by the guard house. A thin waterfall served as our only water source, shower, and washing machine. The sharp, sour smell of gozo, the staple starchy food of manioc (aka cassava or taro) cooking into a sticky paste was a constant tickle in the nose. Mmm, home. This was home! It was hot and always hot, to the point that 60 degrees Fahrenheit literally felt cold enough to pull out our woolen hats and fleece! There was a tiny patch of sky right over the center of camp, and often the only blue we’d see for months amidst the sea of every shade of green strangling us in the forest. I never thought green could feel oppressive! If you get a tingly sense like something’s crawling on you BRUSH IT OFF BECAUSE SOMETHING’S CRAWLING ON YOU! And everything from the malaria mosquitos to the filaria flies to the thorny vines to the firebomb ants to the elephants to the gorillas you are supposed to be habituating are all solely intent on killing you dead in your tracks. And I thought my tender heart and good intentions were enough! Save the world indeed.
A mean game of basketball at camp in Bai Hokou.
What it came down to was, yes, this was the most freaking amazing thing ever, and, yes, it was also the most horrible, as I have found many of the most important experiences in my life have been. People would remark to me what a sacrifice I had made in going there, what a laugh! It was no sacrifice, it was my dream and, I thought, my purpose. I could not endure in a world where I had done nothing. Yet, actualizing my dream involved another case of compromising our sacred bond with animals—we were in CAR to capitalize on their awe-inspiring incredibleness at their expense. We were habituating them for eco-tourism, hoping to minimize poaching by making them worth more alive than dead. They didn’t want us following them. By our presence alone, we unwittingly compromised health and mating, invited attacks from neighboring silver back gorillas, introduced human-born illnesses, caused immeasurable stress-related miscarriages, and, to top it off, we were a bunch of white westerners trying to dictate how the African people tended their land. Fucking not cool. How much I loved getting to watch the animals all day, well, as much as you can see them in a rain forest, quickly started to feel like a very selfish pleasure. How was stressing them the fuck out making the difference I sought to make? It didn’t feel like enough. And then, meeting other scientists in the field, scientists whom I wildly admired, they were all so jaded. You had to be hard to survive reality out there. I was tough, but I didn’t want to be hard. I wanted to maintain my belief in magic, in love, in goodness; that is what empowered me to go to Africa in the first place! Most people I knew didn’t think I’d come back to the U.S. When my contract was up, for the sake of magic, I had to leave.
It was such a culture shock returning home. I was horribly depressed, overwhelmed by billboards, noise, the stench of industry and capitalism everywhere. And yet, I knew if I followed my heart’s longing and went back, I would die, either figuratively or quite literally. My naivety and good intentions would get me killed. I could no longer pretend I had the finesse to navigate dangerous people in a country where corruption is an unfortunate day-to-day reality. I also was not willing to become jaded.
If I couldn’t go back, I determined to find a different purpose, perhaps my truer and less shame motivated purpose. I decided to experience what it was like to live from love. I had always chosen work and opportunities and experiences as my guiding force, this time, I said to myself, this next time it’s going to be love.
And then I reconnected with Mark, my high school sweetheart, and he offered me that chance to live from love. The day we decided to give our love a chance together, I kid you not, the very same day, I got a call from the woman who manages all programs studying FUCKING MOUNTAIN GORILLAS IN UGANDA AND SHE WANTS ME, MEEEE! TO COME RUN THE CAMP FOR HER! Lowland gorillas are incredible, but you don’t get to actually see them much because of the dense vegetation. We’d be 10 meters away for hours while they slept and ate and see nary a hair. Mountain gorillas, on the other hand, are basically on display in the sparse vegetation all the live-long day! I was frozen, floored, flattered, honored, all the things. But there was that quiet Knowing, which is far different from fear: If I went, I would die. And I had already chosen love, not from a mental place but a bone-deep certainty far more powerful than any set of beliefs or shoulds that had tended to lead me. So I shocked the shit out of myself and said no. I can’t really believe I did that. But, I found, I also did not want to endure in a world without loving Mark. This was major choice point Number 1.
Sometimes I wonder if I offended my soul in whatever purpose she had deemed essential in coming to embodiment at this time. Did I take the easy way out? Was some essential part of me meant to die in the mountains in Uganda? Could I have made a real impact there? Am I just a weak woman? I guess we’ll never know. My lifeline split there. What could have been on that yes of a road? And what is now because of the road I chose? How many lives have I effected in that one big choice?
I moved to California to be with Mark and, not gonna lie, it was hard. I was still depressed from culture shock, made worse by the privilege and entitlement that is Marin, and, to tell you the truth, I really didn’t know how to live from love. I had prioritized doing so much that loving had become undervalued, like a forgotten muscle I was learning to exercise again. I wanted Mark to want to go live in the forest with me somewhere, anywhere. But he loved Marin and he loves bikes and I loved him, so there we were.
I also had a big relapse into my eating disorder, went back into treatment, and along the way, realized what also needed tending was my spiritual life. I think, now, that’s where the magic really is. Connecting in the spirit helps me be the person I am in nature all the time, not just in the blissful neutrality of trees. In my immaturity, I wanted the source of my magic to be love, but that’s not really a fair burden to place on somebody: to be the sole source of inspiration and purpose in life. I had practiced yoga every day in the jungle, but here, I became even more devoted, hungry, obsessed to understand and embody it. I became a yoga teacher and massage therapist, thinking I could use those to work my way through grad school on my quest back to Africa. But when it came down to it, I no longer wanted to go to grad school. I found my spiritual path with heart, and my mentor who gave me the tools to remove my blocks to love. And she challenged me, boy, did she challenge me. Still does.
And here we are back at the beginning, my spiritual life and my mentor. Most of our spiritual meetings were filled with my angst over the rend in my soul. To Africa or not to Africa? I still fully believed I would go back (if I’m honest, I still believe I will go back in some capacity!) and I was hemming and hawing and chewing myself up inside over it and she just looked at me point-blank after about a year of this and said, “You’re not going back.” I was shocked! What?! Of course I’m going back! This is my calling! This is what I’m supposed to do! Who else will save all the animals?! And she said it again quite calmly, “You’ve already made your choice. You’re not going back.” And I hated her for it, because, part of me knew it was true. Still, I set out to prove her wrong. I had to.
Bodhi! North Beach Point Reyes, CA 2008.
So, eventually, I set my life on fire again, as I was wont to do, split from Mark, and, in the process, got an offer to study lemurs in Madagascar. Not as sexy as gorillas, but I don’t really care what animal I’m studying, I’m going to be obsessed. I was all set to go until the cold, hard truth came down that I would have to rehome my most beloved friend Bodhi and never be his companion again. I could not do that. You might think it strange a dog could get in the way of such an intense desire, but if you think that, you never met Bodhi. Another rip in my soul, and again, I chose love. This was major choice point Number 2, veritably severing that life path. There’s still a freeze of horror inside me over what I have done, like looking at myself from the outside saying “How could you?!?“ Right next to that freeze is an almost simultaneous clarity, that Knowing in my bones it was also my only right choice. My mentor, damned insightful as she always is, was right all along.
These two choice points still—10 years, choosing Mark again permanently, and a child together later—come up to angst my happy away. Or maybe they’re coming to tap at my heart and check that I am still choosing love. Every time it comes back to me, I experience the same frozen-in-time feeling that locked in when faced with those impossible choices, and the grief any of the available choices inevitably would bring. I can’t believe I turned away from my longing, my beloved Africa. What have I done? And then I remember so softly and sweetly, if I had chosen Africa, I wouldn’t have had the amazing companionship with my soulmate dog Bodhi. If I had chosen Africa, I wouldn’t get to be Mom to this most incredible creature we call Henry, who is a fascinating study in wild behavior himself. If I had chosen Africa, I would still be looking around every corner for my heart’s true human companion, Mark. If I had chosen Africa, I wouldn’t know what it feels like to be a leader in my community, to get to hold people’s healing in my hands and their best self in my heart. When I am teaching yoga and doing bodywork, I have not one speck of that “I should be doing more” feeling. If I had chosen Africa, people would still suck, and I would be one lonely magic-less mother fucker.
Maybe what still tears at me, in addition to what is perhaps a true calling, is the deep and darkly hidden belief that choosing love makes me selfish, and all of the judgey meanings I associate with that one belief. Maybe I simply am not an island unto myself best suited to the life of a hermitess in the trees. Maybe it is just low self-worth errantly trying to make up for the “crime” of being happy while so many suffer.
The beauty of recapitulation is to see through the lies and inaccuracies we attach to. The gift of isolation is to have the space to really work it. In truth, those choices to stay, to choose love, mean that somewhere in my bright and brilliant places inside is the belief that I am worthy as I am, not for any particular spectacular reason, but simply because it is so for all. That I am enough, right now. That the animals know I love them without having to sacrifice myself for them. That by loving, I am making more of a difference than hiding in the trees ever could.
This periodic resurgence of longing for what I turned away from is not a punishment for bad choices, but rather an opportunity to remember why, and to keep readjusting my choice for what’s real now, to recalibrate amid new and unexpected realities as I grow and mature.
It is clear to me I wasn’t made to be a crusader (I hate conflict) or a scientist (I hate statistics and begging for grants). I chose this life to learn Love. That’s all. And it’s fucking hard! I’d so much rather have a clear list of tasks and things that I can do! But nope, just mainly that, to love. Like anyone, I can get sharp and pokey and mean and lash out at the people I love the most, and yet, the same way that quiet part inside knew my mentor was right about Africa, it also knows this. I am Love. The rest is just the noise of resistance.
