Emotional Jetlag

“Hearts will never be practical until they can be made unbreakable.” The Wizard of Oz

I am lying in bed with what feels like motion sickness, or perhaps e-motion sickness. I am not surprised. We have spent the past week traveling down several Ugandan roads which were rough, unpaved, and full of potholes. Yes, I mean literally and figuratively. Yesterday, we took one turn way too fast and I experienced emotional whiplash.
We started the day at the New Hope School & Orphanage located about an hour outside of Kampala. The children greeted us with song. This is a ritual I will miss, the singing. You could see the curiosity and excitement in their eyes. It isn't everyday that a big white tour bus full of mzunga yogis shows up with new mattresses, school supplies, flouride treatments, soccer balls, jump ropes, clothing, and love. Until recently, these 80 children didn't have clean water to drink. Our funds were able to provide a new water filtration system. We were also able to start a garden which will, hopefully, be able to provide them with better nutrition. It may sound like a lot, but it is never enough, never as much as they deserve. The director, the teachers, and the children all thanked us. One 13 year old girl named Florence said, "thank you for the mattresses; now we can sleep and have dreams." I just hope some of those dreams come true.
We spent the day dancing, doing yoga, playing soccer, giving flouride treatments, reading books, and moving new mattresses. One little girl named Patience stayed close to my side the whole day, squeezing my hand, giving me hugs. When we left, she told me she would cry for me. It breaks my heart to think I may have caused her yet another disappointment. I wanted so badly to say I'd be back, but I was careful not to let my heart make promises that I can't keep. I climbed back aboard the yogi bus, cracked open a chilled bottle of water, and felt my spirit deflate. I have said goodbye too many times on this short trip. This felt like the emotional straw that might break my heart.
I didn't have time to adjust to this new emotional zone long. After a brief layover at the hotel to wash up, we were back on the bus heading to a New Moon Celebration at a local yoga studio. We passed the slum areas, the market stalls, the roadside bars and pulled into a walled, gated compound of luxury homes. We were greeted by members of the Kampala yoga community, ex-pats from Austria, England, Australia, and America. We were lead across a manicured lawn to the Shala, an outdoor gazebo furnished with meditation pillows, candles, Buddha statues, Celtic ritual elements---all the necessary spiritual accessories. We began with an intention-setting ceremony which was quite lovely. Maybe this was a nice balance to the day after all. The group leader, Gavin, spoke of the need to heal the scars of Uganda's violent past. I looked around at the 30 or so people gathered in the Shala, there were only 3 Ugandans and 2 were our guides. Hmmm. Then we were asked to lie down for a guided mediation. Here is where my day took a sharp, unexpected turn. New-age music filled the air, and a soft voice started speaking through a microphone, "when I count back from 5 to 1, your mind will go blank and you will find total relaxation..." By the time he got to 1, I was pretty sure I had been abducted into some cult. I wondered whether I could scale the compound walls. As you all know, I love to create stories. Sometimes this works against me. I was creating all sorts of crazy stories in my head as the little Yogi Oz spoke to us from behind the green curtain.
When the meditation ended, I was relieved to find that none of us had been brainwashed as far as I could tell. The ex-pat yogis from Ugandan Oz prepared an organic, vegetarian feast for us. I didn't drink any kool-aid, but I decided the wine was safe, and necessary. Then we climbed aboard the magic yogi bus. The gates of Oz closed behind us as we headed back down the bumpy, congested yellow brick road to our hotel. There's no place like home, there's no place like home.
Before I fell asleep, I thought of Patience and all the beautiful children of New Hope---Faith, Nicolas, Philip, Mary. I doubt a meditation circle will heal their scars. I'm afraid there's nothing in that bag for them. But I prayed that they would all have dreams that night, and that maybe a few of them would actually come true.