Sri Lanka – Part 13 – Elephants and posh people

Sri Lanka – part 13

The gentle ringing of the little gold bell signals the end of group meditation. Sighing I think ‘Time for more working meditation then’.

Mindfully walking to the utility’s cupboard, I find my new friend awaiting my arrival. The sweeping brush. ‘I’m going to name you Sid. C’mon Sid, back to it’. I’m getting used to my telepathic conversations and why not chat to a sweeping brush in my head. I’m having so many conversations in my own mind, it might be nice to have an object to aim them at. Heading back onto the pathway that runs from the ‘bathroom’ area to the kitchen, I pick up where I left off. Moving Sid from left to right and right to left, it’s like we’re in a kind of dance. I find the rhythm of the movement as well as the sound of the bristles against the stones quite soothing. ‘So how do I brush mindfully Sid? I reckon you’ve had more than a few meditators using you. Teach me how the advanced used you’. O.K, I hear you, I need to stay present. O.K, how about I connect my mind with the parts of my body that are moving when I brush. Let’s invite curiosity in. Which body part moves first? Is it my head facing the direction I’m going to be sweeping? Or is it my hands gripping the brush handle. Are all of my fingers touching the brush handle? Ha, it’s amazing how many joints and muscles work together to enable me to sweep this path!’ Have I completely lost the plot; I’m befriending a sweeping brush! Makes me smile though. No harm done. Thanks Sid, I’m quite enjoying mindful brushing.

The rest of the day passes much the same, more conversations in my head. Some good, some damn right annoying. More meditation, more emotive yet beautiful chanting and finally bed time arrives. I’m ready for bed. I’m ready for the escape that sleep brings. A rest from the nonstop inner chatter. The nonstop internal noise that feels so invasive without normal western life distractions.  I wish more than anything it’s a normal bed I’m climbing in to. Not the concrete bed I’m apprehensively approaching, 1 sluggish foot step at a time. I’ve remembered my torch tonight. The cockroaches of last night still zipping around as clear as a cloudless sky in my mind. I’ve reached the door. I stand outside for a minute. Dancing from one foot to another. Putting my hand on the handle then taking it off again, more than a few times. ‘C’mon Lisa, what are the chances of them still being there. Open the door. You’ve slept in a rain forest for god sake. This is 2 cockroaches. At the thought of the word cockroaches my body does an involuntary shiver.  Lisa, open the door’.  I finally, hesitantly, open the door. Only enough to peak inside. I keep my head as far out of the room as possible. Stretching my eyes, I will them to either float out of the sockets, or grow as long as a lying Pinocchio’s nose. Anything so the room can be checked without me having to enter it. Scrunching up my face like a shrivelled prune I shine the head torch along the concrete walls. My scream echoes through the centre. The light has disturbed one of them and it immediately begins to flap around the room. ‘Shit! You’re still here? Seriously? I could do without this. I’m exhausted. Where’s the other one of you? The giant flying bug bounces off the walls like an intoxicated drunk.  ‘What if I shine the torch outside, will you follow the light? Pushing the door open as wide it will go I focus the torch to a spot just outside of the door. I’m pleading with it inside my head…..Pleeeease leave. Every muscle in my body is contracted. ‘C’mon, just leave.’ As much as I’m begging this bug to leave I’m also terrified it might fly into me. After a good 5 minutes of acting like I’m at a disco for 1, torch light bouncing around on the concrete outside with me hopping on one foot to another,  I look back into the room. He seems very grateful that I’m acting the fool outside and has settled back down on the rickety night stand. ‘Oh dear god. Where’s your mate?’ The doors are closing around me. Fellow inmates, I mean yogis, have brushed their teeth and climbed into their bed. ‘I’m gonna have to share a room with you again aren’t I?’ Entering the room quickly, whilst trying not to make any sudden, jerky movements, I grab my wash bag and shake it off. ‘Mate 2 is bound to be here somewhere’. Leaving the room with the door wide open in case he decides it’s a good idea to check out while I’m gone, I head off to brush my teeth. The inner chat conitnues in my head ‘I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to sleep here….Lets be present in the now. Right now, I’m not sleeping here, right now, I’m stood at this sink, surrounded by beautiful mountains, brushing my teeth.’

The night passes very much like the night before. Lots of ducking down, never taking my eye off the cockroach, diving under the mosquito net as quickly as possible. Tucking myself in like a mummy and breathing as quietly as possible. I don’t want to do anything to disturb him. Headtorch off, it flies around, and I just know it’s settled itself on the net. Seriously? Why? Ducking my whole head into the sleeping bag, I eventually fall asleep.

I wake up super irritated. Like there’s ants on my insides. My head feels like it’s made of cement. I don’t want to stay in bed and I don’t want to get up. The gong goes. ‘FFS, meditation…. again!’.

 

It’s time to head to Lucy’s. I’m going to have to put the book down. The kids will no doubt be sleeping soon; I’ll take it with me and carry on when they’ve gone to bed.

Walking along the road leading to their house I hear the playful squeals of Harold ‘Clearly not ready for bed yet then.’ Opening the gate to the front garden I see that he’s wearing a big black dustbin over his head. All I see are his 5 year old bare toes peeking out of the bottom. Lucy shouts out of the upstairs window ‘He’s alright Lis, come on in and meet Geoffry. Staring at the dancing dustbin I ask the mini human inside if he would like to be set free. More screams ‘Nooooooo!!!’ O.K then. Nice to meet you Harold the dustbin, I’ll see you in a bit’.  Climbing the 2 flights of stairs to the first floor I find Lucy rushing around. ‘Anything I can do to help?’ ‘No, just look after the boys. I should be home by 12.30am. Help yourself to tea and coffee.

‘What time does Harold go to bed?

‘Oh whenever he’s tired.’

‘What time is he normally tired?’

‘Hard to say, sometimes he just falls asleep on the couch but if you want to get him into a routine it would be good if he was in bed by 9pm. Geoffry’s asleep already, his bottles made up in the kitchen, he’ll want that if he wakes up. Nappies and stuff where I showed you earlier. Keep an eye on his room as we have lodgers staying, and they come and go. Goeffry’s room is near theirs’.

My stomach flutters. This isn’t going to be a show up and chill on the couch babysitting job that I thought it might be. I’m going to earn every penny here.

‘Right Lis, thanks for this, I’m off. Any emergencies the restaurant numbers on the fridge. See you later’.

I hear her super-fast footsteps bound down the stairs, her voice shout bye to henry and the gate slam behind her. ‘Shit, it’s just me, a 2-year-old and a dustbin wearing 5-year-old. 6 nights a week for 8 weeks, blimey. Well dustbin boy, we best get you into a bedtime routine from the off. This is gonna be fun.’

 

The land rover bounces over the dirt track. I’m really giddy and excited. The energy in the back has lifted. It’s obvious by the confused and surprised look in the eyes of the men that this is not a regular occurrence. They’re either picking up on my joy or are excited about the change in their normal routine. Two odd looking foreigners in the back of their truck and we’re going to work with them. The manager at the front seems to have taken on an air of nervousness. I can’t work out if this is because he’s regretting his decision of taking us along or if something is amiss about the journey.

After perhaps a 45-minute drive, I’m feeling a little nervous. I’ve no idea where we are and if we were left here, I’d have no clue how to get back to where we were. Making eye contact with Stu I read on his face ‘What the fuck have we done?’ He’s looking very serious.

The only windows are up in the front so the view is limited from back here.  We come to an abrupt stop. The driver and forestry commissioner climb out. I can hear talking outside. There are more people here. Craning my neck as far forward as it’ll go. (Without actually lying on the people next to me) I strain to see what’s happening out the front. The back doors swing open. The driver impatiently gestures for Stu and I to get out. Stu and I eye each other again ‘Why us and not the others?’  The driver is seeming agitated. What’s happened in that 2-minute conversation to alter his mood so drastically. I begin to clamber over the others, shyly stepping outside. Immediately I freeze. My breath is taken away. Stu’s still in the vehicle. ‘What’s up Lisa?’ I can’t speak. I stand perfectly still and let my eyes soak in the surrounding scene. ‘Lisa, what’s happening?’ he repeats as he climbs out of the truck. I can hear him but it’s like he’s a million miles away. All around me are huge beautiful elephants. They’re carrying timber rolled up in their trunks. Some of them have tiny men sat on top of them. This is phenomenal. The commissioner guy is rushing me forward. Introducing me to one of the elephants. His feet are humongous. I caress his leathery skin. What amazing ears! Then I see his eyes. This elephant has the kindest eyes and I can’t help it, silent tears fall down my face. I’m embarrassed by my reaction so don’t want to look around, instead I keep staring at this elephant. Soaking in every ounce of the entire experience.  The beauty and the gentleness of this huge creature reaches into my soul and as softly as a feather might drift down from the sky it soothes me. I don’t know how long I’m stood here. I feel absolutely at peace with the world, with me. What a gift this is! Thank you so much universe for this opportunity. May I always recognise and respond to the opportunities you send my way. (MMM I go waaaayy off course further down the line!)

It’s not long before the main man is moving Stu and I back into the van. ‘You should not be here; you must leave now. The driver will take you back close to the beach’.

‘Thank you so so much for this experience’ I say whole heartedly. ‘You are welcome madame, now you must leave’.

Climbing into the back of the land rover on opposite sides of the bench Stu and I just stare at each other. The driver bounces us out of the forest. How he knows where the entrance back to the beach is I’ve no clue, but he drops us off pretty much where we came out onto the road, just by the tap. Grabbing the water back up we thank the driver profusely and begin the trek back through the forest to the beach. As soon as the vehicle’s out of site we start grinning at each other like Cheshire cats.

‘Can you believe that just happened’? I squeal with delight at Stu.

‘Amazing, that was totally awesome!’ responds Stu. ‘Come on we really need to get a march on, Debbie and Russel must be worried sick’.

Even the weight of those water containers can’t dappen our mood. We’re ecstatic. Giggling like a pair of kids as we re-enter camp. Our laughter stops abruptly. Debbie has obviously been worried. She’s pacing, hands on hips, head down and when she sees us her look goes from one of worry to rage to relief all in the space of a few seconds.

I’m keen to appease her as quickly as possible.

‘I’m so sorry Debbie that we’ve worried you but there was an opportunity we just couldn’t pass up. We saw elephants!’

‘Elephants?’ How can there be elephants here?’

I know right, but there are and there’s loads of them! They work in the heart of the forest. They carry the timber…’

Stu and I excitedly interrupt each other as we share our experience. Debbie and Russel are happy for us but disappointed that they haven’t had this experience. Especially when we tell them we have no idea how to find the place for ourselves.

It’s our last meal on the island tonight. The fisherman’s coming for us tomorrow. Hopefully he’s rowing us to the island with the pre made tents.

Morning arrives, we dismantle our 1^st island camp and fit in a quick snorkel just in case this magical underwater land doesn’t exist elsewhere. The fisherman appears, he doesn’t want a rest so we immediately climb aboard and set off towards the horizon. This time Debbie takes the jug to bail out the water. I watch the island until it can no longer be seen. I feel sad and grateful. Those other islanders will be happy to have the place completely to themselves.

Turning to face the horizon I wonder ‘What’s this next island going to be like? Wonder if we’ll meet new people?’ It isn’t too long until we find out. Within a couple of hours, the island is in sight. I can see 8 green tents pitched in a line across the back of the beach. There are people too. More than 8 tents worth ‘Oh I do hope I can have a tent. I really like the idea of feeling like I’m sleeping in my own space. In my own room. I’ve loved sleeping in my hammock but it would be nice to be able to zip out the elements and other people for a few nights.’

Rowing closer the already settled islanders walk towards the shore. ‘Please be friendly’ I think as I remember the others weren’t best pleased to see us. The closer we get, the clearer into vision they become. They’re smiling and waving and there’s a real jovial spirit. I love it here already.

The rickety wooden boat delivers safely ashore again. A few of the bikini clad ladies and trunk wearing guys, reach out to help with our backpacks, buckets and stuff. This is fab! Names are being batted about like an unruly game of tennis. We’re all excited to meet each other.

One of the girls shouts out ‘There’s 3 empty tents if any of you want a tent while you’re here? Just take it and the man will come get your money when he comes back.’

‘Yes please! I’d love a tent.’ Woohoo, I’m incredibly happy.

Debbie and Russel take one. Stu replies ‘I’ll stick to my hammock thanks’. Making my way to a small 1 man tent I feel like I’ve landed upon a 5 star luxury apartment.

‘Over there’ points one of the men towards a wooden hut ‘you can get papaya, omelettes, toast, juices’.

‘Oh my god, I’ve died and gone to heaven! I’m never leaving’.

A voice drifts over from the tent next to mine. It is the poshest sounding British accent I’ve ever heard in real life. ‘Is he winding me up?’

‘Who do we have here? Oh you are a beauty my darling and what does one call you?

‘Erm, hello, I’m lisa’ I find myself feeling self-conscious about my midlands accent. It’s well known as being a very lazy accent. We don’t bother pronouncing all of the letters in words.

‘Lisa darling what an absolute pleasure making your acquaintance’

Shuffling towards me on his hands and knees is what must be a 65-year-old man. He’s bare chested. Very toned and tanned with a spattering of white chest hair. He’s wearing only long white shorts with pockets on the sides. His hair is white and shoulder length. His white beard is neatly trimmed.

Smiling with my hand outstretched I respond ‘Pleasure to meet you too.. erm?’

‘Alfred, I go by the name of Alfred. ’

‘Hello Alfred. Lovely to meet you’

‘Likewise dear. Now, do tell me, are you partial to the local rice wine?’

‘Rice wine? I’ve never heard of rice wine?’

‘Oh darling you’re in for a real treat! We have organised for a collection of many litres of this local delicacy to be collected this evening. I have a moped, how would you like to be the one that joins me for this jolly?’

‘I’d love to Alfred!’

‘Well how marvellous Lisa darling, I feel you and I are going to get along merrily.’

 

And with that I wish you all a very Merry Christmas!

The journey will continue Sunday 9^th January  2022. I will hopefully see some of you in the online Mindful Relaxation class on Thursday 6^th January where we’ll be journeying through some of these adventures in our meditations. It’s essential to pre book by direct message on face book. Have a great (and maybe mindful) Christmas.

See you in the New Year. Love Lisa xx