The Beauty of Transitions ~ Beginner's Mind

That’s what I’ve got, being back in the *first world*, hometown DC, after two and a half years away - Beginner's Mind - the sweet side of Transitions. Everything that was once old has a shiny new sheen, like the Greek medallion necklace that sat in my jewelry box in storage for these last couple of years. I pull it out and clasp it on; it’s dazzling, doesn’t even need polishing, ensembles well with the khaki blazer I liberate from dry-clearer plastic and a pair of brand new strappy ComfortOne sandals I never had a chance to wear before shipping off to the Peace Corps. 

What a change from Chocos. I feel elegant and ready for happy hour on the New U, which finally lives up to its name.  The neighborhood has exploded with life, trendy, spendy, way-too-cool-for-school youts, loud-talkers, hill-walkers. I really can't afford a teeny-ini cocktail in this part of town on a post-Peace Corps Volunteer salary of zero and a well-honed rural Mexican ‘codo’ (el cheapo) mindset.  I’m used to 15 pesito cervezas (a little over a buck a beer) at Rita’s bar, my local Rioverde watering hole. Though until I met Rita, I wasn’t exactly welcomed into the cantinas – for men and ‘mala mujeres’ (i.e., prostitutes) only.  So I was confined to drinking my cerveza and an occasional tequila in my Diaz Rincon, my tiny apartment on the edge of town.

That made my first visit to a bar in my Mt Pleasant neighborhood, my first week back home, something special.  Marx Café was packed that Friday night with men and women, young and old, gay and straight, Latinos and 
 Gringos and even a 100 percent Navajo man named Lamar I got to talking to. Sidling up to the bar and ordering a glass of Malbec from Manny, the Mexican-American bartender, I felt like a real grown-up.  But when the flaming cheese came out, and the entire bar broke into applause, that’s when I felt grateful I was home. 

And there are other little things I marvel over.  The rain!  Sweet, soft, tapping on my roof at night, and the canopy of green that envelops my neighborhood. My runs through Rock Creek Park along the soggy bridle path, across foot bridges, watching red cardinals dart through the forest, hopping piles of horseshit, listening to the rush of the creek, and drinking the moisture into my skin.

How long will these Beginner’s Mind moments last?  I want to hold on to them; but after three months back, I sense that walking-on-air-in-love-with-everything feeling fading. The realities of leaking roofs and stolen iPhones, parking tickets, gluten intolerance, and Whole Paycheck grocery bills snaps me out of my romance.  

And how much rain can I stand?! After the soggiest spring on Washington record, I’m almost pining for the desert again, the prickly pear cactus jutting into cloudless skies, the dull predictability of small town life.

But more than that, I miss my friends Rita and Sergio.  It hit me just how much when I jumped onto Facebook the other night to check messages; and there was Sergio, posting a new entry to his Historias Rioverdences (Rioverde History) page.  Comments were pouring in from friends South of the Border; so I posted my two pesos:  ‘Gracias, Profe Sergio, for your history lessons and antique images. Keep the stories coming. Viva Rioverde!’   

Within seconds there was a message back:  ‘We miss you, Anna!  We’re at Rita’s bar and everyone say hello!’

Huh, to be back in El Fenix with the gang of tomato pickers and muni bureaucrats and car mechanics connecting across the language and culture divide…

Every change requires a loss and a gain – an ending and a new beginning.  Thanks to Beginner’s Mind, on the good days, I'm appreciating the beauty in all of it.