Tag Archives: brazil

To baby… or not to baby?

Do you remember your first time discussing the all-important topic: ‘Am I going to have kids or not’?

I believe my first embarkment on the topic of this important life decision was when I was 9 years old, playing tag with my little brother and our two friends in the courtyard of a 3 story, marble and granite house in the heart of Mysore, India.

Our families had moved to India a few months earlier from Efland, North Carolina, and we were sharing the space of this house that, by most Indians’ standards, was no less than a mansion. The courtyard at the base of the house was fenced in, and although we could see traffic moving past and people walking by, we were separated from it all by walls and gates.

There was plenty of space for the 4 of us to scamper about, and as we darted back and forth, we were able to discuss–though somewhat breathlessly–the prospect of children in our adult futures.

Vraja, the twin brother of my best friend Tarini, asked me, “So do you think you’re going to have kids?” He seemed both enthralled and embarrassed by being the one to breach the topic. “I don’t know if I will… maybe!” he cocked his head to one side, before dashing out of reach of my pursuing brother, Gaura.

I raced after him, in order to follow up on the discussion. “Nah,” I yelled, gasping for breath. “I don’t think I’m going to have kids! Because I don’t think I would ever want to get married.”

Later, I would take Tarini aside to divulge my reasoning behind not getting married and having kids when I was a grown up.

“You see…” I explained to her, “My sister told me that the way you have to have a kid is the man has to stick his… ‘thing’ inside the lady!”

Tarini’s face was filled with the horror that I had been anticipating.

“I don’t EVER want that to happen to me,” I said.

She looked ill. “Me NEITHER.”

And there we sat, the two of us, 8 and 9 years old, on the rooftop of a house in Mysore India, considering our baby-less and husband-less futures.

Once I had made that decision, I didn’t worry about it or give it much further thought until many years later.

Once I had been able to come to terms with HOW babies were made, than it became a decision I would consider and discuss once again. Between the ages of 20 and 30, I would pendulum back and forth between theoretical futures.

There was the, “I MUST have a baby! NOW!”

Followed by, “I can’t ever have kids! There’s too much I want to do with my life! I’ll never NOT want to be accomplishing cool stuff, when would I ever have time for a kid??”

So when Addison and I were faced with the reality that there was a living, pulsing being that we had created, swimming around inside of me, the world stopped. We sat together in silence and in conversation, in wonder and in horror.

There was the cold, calculating voice that seemed to whisper to both of us, “You have a choice, you don’t HAVE to have this baby… You could be free of it if you really wanted to.”

I didn’t want to feel like that was a choice. I had never considered abortion to be an option for me, even though actually being pregnant gave me a newfound understanding and compassion for those who do choose to have abortions.

I just wanted to know that this child was a certainty, so I could than begin to move forward accordingly.

Addison left a day and a half after we discovered I was pregnant, headed back to Austin. We were pretty sure baby was staying. We weren’t sure where I was going, however.

All I really wanted was to “go home.” I was nauseous, homesick, tired of being in a different country. I also felt like I wanted to keep going. I hadn’t actually made it to Brazil!

I went back to share Watson’s room with him, and Addison went to get some space, some time to digest the news apart from me.

I called friends, family members, and one time burst into tears on Watson’s bed while he patted me awkwardly, cheering me by being sweet and silly.

I wanted to go home, but I also wanted to keep cycling. I wanted to fly to L.A. and bike up to Alaska. I wanted to fly down to Brazil and bike around Brazil before it was “too late”. But between pregnancy nausea and the Zika virus, those two options were out of the question.

I considered going to Vermont and staying with Addison’s mother for a while.

But finally, I got a message from Addison. His reflection time had led him to the turning point that he would later call, “Getting my head out of my ass.”

“This child is an expression of our love,” he said. “You are the only person in this world I would want to have a baby with right now, and I want you to come home.”

3 days later, I was in the airport and headed to Austin, my bicycle broken down into a box, my baby in my belly. We had all traveled across Mexico together, and now we were all going home.

stork

Reflecting on Choices

It’s a gray, windy day here in Austin.

I’ve been brewing over the past, the future and wrestling the present moment into a bear hug, desperate to stay grounded.

I have been thinking about what happened in Playa del Carmen after I discovered I was pregnant.

We all make choices, and then we live with those choices.

What I experienced in Playa del Carmen after discovering I am pregnant, was a rollercoaster of emotions.

I found myself reflecting on the series of choices that led me to the moment where I was sitting on the beach in the dark with Addison, listening to the waves and watching their white crests glint against the moonlight.

I had chosen to leave Addison, and to ride my bicycle to Brazil.

I chose to ride from Austin, leaving Brazil for last.

I didn’t just go straight to Brazil, because I wanted to follow the line I had started when I left Vermont on a bicycle 3 years ago.

If I had known I would only be gone for 3 months, yes, I would have gone straight to Brazil.

But I didn’t know that.

When you tell your life partner that you’re leaving them for 6-9 months and you don’t know when you’ll be back, naturally they must make adjustments of their own.

The trajectory of our lives had been splitting apart, and this child seemed to have appeared to make us reconsider everything.

In a way, it should have been relieving.

Being pregnant would mean I could go home. It could mean I wouldn’t lose Addison.

And it could mean many many other things.

Those many other things washed over me as I sat in the sand with Addison.

What about capoeira?

What about our music careers?

What about making it all the way to Brazil?

What about the book I was going to write once I finished my 9 month journey?

I imagine many new parents experience these kinds feelings.

New life bringing a sense of death to their old life.

But never once have I heard a parent tell me that they regretted having kids.

I am so fascinated by old people. People who have been through all of this and more. People whose children are already grown, and whose grandchildren have already been born.

When I see an old lady, I stare at her, study her, think about what she might be thinking about, how it might be to be her.

Her hands are wrinkled and covered with blue veins and dots, her face is sagging and her hair is thin. But her eyes are the same color as when she was 16.

She has lived–far longer than I have–with her choices.

She had dreams too. She hoped for things.

When she was young, she imagined her life to look a certain way, imagined the great things she would accomplish.

She fell in love, she broke hearts, she had her heart broken.

Maybe she tried to become a concert pianist, but it was too hard. Maybe her parents couldn’t afford the lessons. Maybe she lost interest when she got older because than she wanted to be the lead singer of a rock band.

Maybe she wanted to travel around the world.

Maybe she wanted to be a school teacher.

A poet.

A dancer.

Most likely she wanted to be loved, respected, admired.

Maybe some of these things happened. Maybe none of them did. Maybe they happened in broken bits and pieces.

But by the time she is in her 70s or 80s, how much of it really matters to her anymore?

Or does it haunt her?

I hear Tom Waits’ voice drift through my head at this moment:

“What does it matter, a dream of love or a dream of lies?

We’re all gonna be in the same place when we die.

Your spirit don’t leave knowing

Your face or your name

The wind in your bones is all that remains.

And we’re all gonna be just dirt in the ground.”

dirt in the ground

 

Thanks for reading. Don’t want these posts to be too long, so I’m practicing keeping them a bit shorter. I have the next part mostly written and I’ll share it soon!

 

Capoeira synchronisity in action

A month before I left on my bicycle trip from Austin to Brazil, I decided to write to Mestre Acordeon.

According to wikipedia, ‘Mestre Acordeon is a native of Salvador, Bahia, Brazil, and a master of the Brazilian folk art known as Capoeira. His international reputation as a respected teacher, performer, musician, organizer, and author is built upon fifty years of active practice, as well as research into the origins, traditions, political connotations, and contemporary trends of Capoeira. Mestre Acordeon has travelled extensively promoting Capoeira outside Brazil.’

The reason I wanted to talk to him, was because 2 years ago, at the age of 70, Mestre Acordeon rode his bicycle from Berkeley, CA to Bahia, Brazil.

A week after I had written to him (and almost forgotten about it), I received a phone call with a Northern California area code.

“Hello?” I answered, expecting to hear the voice of an old Northern Cali friend.

“Ah… em… hello…” came the voice of a man with an accent. “How do you say your name?”

“Oh!” I replied, wondering who it was. “My name is Jahnavi.”

“Ahhh, Jahnavi. Hello, this is Mestre Acordeon.”

I stopped pacing through my apartment and went to my room and shut the door.

“Hello! Thank you for calling!”

We chatted for a while, and I told him that I wanted to ride my bicycle to Brazil also, and asked him about his trip.

“The voyage for me was truly magical,” he told me. “I encourage you to do the trip. It changed my life.”

He put me in contact with Pirata, one of the capoeiristas who had done the whole ride with him and who is currently writing a book about it.

“If you have any questions, you can call me anytime,” he told me.

Well, needless to say, that made my day… well, my week, really.

And as we all know, a month later I saddled up and left Austin on my bicycle, headed south.2015-12-18 11.45.02

I’ve made it halfway across Mexico at this point.

I’ve trained with Capoeira Longe Do Mar in San Luis Potosi, Queretaro, and now Mexico City.

I arrived in Mexico City with my friend Monica on Saturday.

That night I found Nao Veio, a professor at Longe Do Mar, and am staying at his house with his wife Nana.

2016-02-07 18.25.11

The next morning I received a Facebook message from the Longe Do Mar academy.

(it was in spanish, but I’ll tell you in english):

“Hello, welcome to Mexico City. Mestre Acordeon is here today and tomorrow and he would like to meet you.”

Apparently Mestre Acordeon visits Mexico City once a year, and I happen to have arrived during the two days he is in town.

That evening Nao Veio took me by subway to the Mestre’s house where Acordeon is staying.

After waiting outside and chatting with some capoeiristas, I was ushered in to meet the Santa Claus of capoeira.12657163_10153504344052545_7902883189447074677_o

Acordeon had just finished a meeting with the director of his documentary (the documentary about his ride from Berkeley to Bahia).

He welcomed me in, embraced me, and we immediately dove into talking about my journey and his journey.

He scribbled on a piece of paper, showing me how I could get from Panama to Brazil, and eventually demanded that I sit down next to him so we could get to the nitty gritty.

He showed me sample clips of the unreleased documentary, and shared stories, switching seamlessly between portuguese and english as though he barely noticed they are different languages.

I soaked it in. His energy is amazing.

I felt a resurgence of confidence in my voyage.

This journey is bigger than me, I thought, as I watched some footage from his ride. I can’t even imagine who I’ll be at the end of this, because it’s so huge.

One thing I know for sure, is that every single capoeirista who I’ve met along this ride so far will never forget me (nor I them) and they will be rooting me on through every step of the way.

And even if I go back to live in Austin, I will have homes away from home across all of the South Americas.

Mestre Acordeon could have chatted all night, and I would have happily sat there through all of it, but finally it was time for everyone to go home and go to bed.12698763_10153676316031773_1743453459_o

He hugged me close and wished me the best of luck on my trip.

I am so thankful for synchronisity and the constant reminder that I need only ‘jump and the net shall appear’.

I can’t plan out every day of this trip, I can only continue to move forward and continue to seek out capoeira and higher guidance as I travel south.

Riding Through 8 (or 9) Countries — You can come too! :)

I have some exciting news that I wanted to share with you!

It’s about Addison and I finally setting up a place at Patreon.com where you can join me on my adventures…

Patreon is an online community which supports artists on a monthly or by project basis.

It’s a way that you can be a sponsor of your favorite artist by donating as little as 1 dollar a month!

I’m thankful for this community, because now I have a way to be a patron for other artists as well as receiving support for my own projects.

Thanks to Addison’s unswerving attention to creating this page and video with me, I now have my own Patreon account!

Hooray!

Click here to watch the video, etc:

https://www.patreon.com/jahnavi?ty=hScreen shot 2015-12-15 at 11.27.07 AM

The Freight Train of the Unknown

I was writing in my journal this morning and flipped back to a page where I’d written a poem shortly after deciding to ride my bicycle to Brazil…

It was written on Oct. 26th, when a lot people were discouraging me from doing my trip, fearing for my life.

They were calling me, writing to me, sharing scary news reports about Mexico and Central America with me.

Now, as I stand on the brink of my adventure, I still hear the naysayers and the fearful, but I feel compassion for them, and if anything, I simply want to be safe so as to not cause undue suffering to those I love.

Regardless, it was kind of a cool poem, so I’ve shared it below:

Newspaper clippings

Of missing people

Dire warnings, dark reportings

Fear clutches at us all

With bony, creaking fingers

His grasp is tight, choking

We are left longing, hoping

Paralyzed, no action taken

We’re mesmerized by the horror stories

Our minds weave the gory tales

bicycledreamphotographyretrobikegirl-67356e563455c7b628828f0b1e283012_h2Though we long for glory

Adventure and daring feats

We can’t tear our eyes away

From Fear’s channel of defeat

We watch all the episodes

The reruns of hysteria

Yet our secret heart of hearts

Is sneaking out the back door

Tearing our draping fears apart

Rushing to get onboard

The freight train of the unknown

6463955-mdTaking us where the wind blows

Where intuition and synchronicity 

Commandeer our ship

New friends await

New places to love

Where fear is just a seasoning

A pinch of spice

For our full, joyful lives

We eat and drink of this world

With gusto 

As we never know

Which day may be our last

In a world so terrifying and beautiful.

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L.A. to Brazil… (on a bicycle??)

So you may have heard that I am about to leave on an adventure with my bicycle…

…and I’m headed to Brazil of all places…

If you’re wondering how in the hell I’m planning on doing it, just watch this video…

(I don’t know how helpful it will be in answering your questions, but at least we get to look at this cool map book together!) 😉

Imagining my way in and out of imaginary disaster

All hail the unruly, wily mind that is comparable to a flame: never ceasing to move, always changing and transforming!

I am sitting in the Black Hole Cafe in Houston, TX right now, after a restless night of sleep in my aunt’s guest bed.

Last night Addison and I arrived in Houston and stayed up late with Aunt Michele, playing her songs with guitar and mandolin that made her weep.

And as we lay in bed last night, I shifted, tossed and turned, unable to drift into sleep. My mind just won’t STOP!

I lay awake thinking about Addison and how dear he is to me.

When we play music together, it’s as if the world around us falls away.

We sleep in the same bed at night, tangled together with arms and legs wrapped around one another, as have almost every night for the past three years.

What am I THINKING?? Why would I leave Addison for 6 months to a year?

My mind drifted to a few days earlier, when I had panicked and almost bought a ticket directly to Sao Paulo, Brazil. What if I spend all this time biking through Mexico and Central America and never actually make it to Brazil? I had thought. What if, when I arrive in Brazil via the Amazon river, the border patrol doesn’t let me into Brazil and I have to go all the way back the way I came, sweating and writhing around in a hammock on a slow moving boat in the sweltering heat?

I had considered just flying to Brazil and then biking back.

Then I did a yoga class with my favorite Black Swan yoga teacher, Dave, and I calmed down and felt resolved to leave from Los Angeles again.

Finally, after all that thinking, I drifted to sleep.

Only to awake again at 5 am, thinking about how I’ll need a 4 ft or longer cable to lock my bags together on my bicycle when I need to step into a convenience store to buy food during my trip. There won’t be anyone to stand outside and watch my stuff like when Addison and I biked from Vermont to Texas and had eachother’s backs. I’ll have my brand new gopro camera with me, and a world of supplies to get me through my long journey, all on my bicycle and easy for anyone to steal if they decide they want to.

Then my mind drifts to the mace I will carry with me. Should I hang it from my handlebars so it’s within easy reach at all times?

I imagine three men attacking me at once to steal my stuff. I see myself spraying one in the face with mace, and then quickly turning to spray the second one. But what about the third one that’s coming up behind me? And will they just writhe around once I spray them, or do I need to kick them in the nuts as well to keep them down? What if my stuff is all over the place when they approach, and I have to try to quickly pack it while they claw at their burning eyes, and then ride away? Or should I just run and leave the stuff?

When I finally got out of the bed this morning, I felt like I’d run a marathon.

Gosh, I am exhausted. 😀

Well, the fact of the matter is, none of that is happening right now.

What IS happening, is I need to pack my computer up and go play music live on KPFT Houston. The Love Sprockets are on at noon, central time.

Click here to tune in: http://kpft.org/listen/

And thanks for reading this post! Sorry it was a crazy one, but that’s how I’m feeling right now! 😀