In my twenties, this whole meeting guys, dating, and coupling seemed to happen easily and organically. Was it because I was too young and naive to be picky? Has age and life experience elevated my expectations to impossibly high? Are there simply less available men in the forty to fifty age range? Has on-line dating ruined authentic connections and courtship? Or do I just suck?
Eleven Spa Campers from TCI Hospitality Adventure filed into the studio overlooking the same lush mangroves that continue to take my breath away, even after ten months of teaching here in Turks & Caicos. They, on the other hand, didn't seem to notice the picturesque view, the refreshing cross breeze flowing through the open sliding glass doors, or the perfectly designed environment for cultivating a mind-body connection. Teenagers!
As I sat outside at the open-air cafe chomping on jerk chicken salad and staring past the bust of Buddha in the middle of the bougainvillaea-filled entrance, I couldn't stop thinking about the power of choice. Not just because the custom salad I chose was chock full of savory chicken breast and within the parameters of my new weight loss plan to "get my dancer's body back". But staring back at me was a Kingdom Hall of Jehovah's Witnesses; a huge symbol of my past.
It was my birthday. "So THIS is what forty-five looks like" I thought with an air of disbelief and acceptance. I had just entered the mirrored yoga studio at Retreat with its stark white walls contrasting the all black outfit I'd hoped would camouflage the weight I've amassed on this dancer's body after almost three years of retirement and eight months of island living.
In my gut I know I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in life, love and career. Okay, I may not be exactly where I wanna be. I may not have achieved all I wanna achieve. And my current circumstances may not feel like paradise even though it looks that way (LOL). But overall, I'm a pretty happy chick!
I discovered this whimsical, candy-colored, carnival of an ice cream shop that instantly awakened my inner child, while appealing to my mature taste buds that can easily distinguish between a decent dessert and a decadent dessert.
I was about six months deep into my two year contract and island fever crept up on my ass like a stranger in a dark alley. Up until that point, I had settled quite comfortably into my new lifestyle as the Pilates/Fitness instructor on a private resort island in Turks & Caicos. The stress of NYC’s daily grind, my chaotic schedule plus the sensory overload of the concrete jungle were buried in the depths of tranquil Caribbean waters.
Living in Turks & Caicos has inspired me to see nature through the eyes of a child again. I see clouds shaped liked dogs and dragons. I count stars and make wishes on them. I dream of lounging on crescent moons. And I listen to the secrets of trees as their leaves rustle through the wind.
After living on this private resort island for the last five months, anything other than food from the Staff Cafeteria (which we call "canteen") and my own limited repertoire in the kitchen is considered a delicacy to my taste buds. In fact, it's pure ecstasy. Food is my sex on this god-forsaken island (that I love) where the pickings are slim when it comes to men and culinary pleasure.
When you live at a destination getaway that’s perfected the picture of privacy and romance; where the majority of guests are honeymooners or people celebrating decades of marriage; and where couples come to my Pilates classes hand-in-hand and engage in friendly competition during the Series of 5. And when you’re suffering from a tricky diagnosis of single-itis plus PMS...
I woke up this morning with an incredible urge to dance. I was wondering when that desire would resurface. I think I’ve been suppressing the need for movement expression knowing that, to dance here on this private resort island in Turks & Caicos, is to dance alone. And what I miss, besides movement itself, is
For the last few months I’ve been submerged in a bubble of picturesque beauty, long periods of solitude and self-reflection, and teaching Pilates to a fascinating collection of international guests who often have nothing on their to-do lists other than spa treatments, seaside sun bathing, stargazing and cocktails.
Every day I'm in awe of this new teach/write/love adventure I'm living. I never tire from the heat of the sun or surprise sun showers followed by magnificent rainbows. I'm constantly soothed by the calm blue sea and the wash of tranquility it gives me even when gazing at it from a distance. And I love how the night skies are so filled with stars that I'm completely unafraid of post-sunset walks with my dog.
I’d already lived on this picturesque, private hotel resort island for a whole month before even dipping my body into ocean. Crazy, I know! I even taught Pilates classes on the beach every Friday, instructing guests to roll up through their spines, gaze across the ocean and absorb the sea breeze before rolling back to the grounding support of the sand.
I’m a New Yorker. I thrive on the frenetic pulse created by its 8million inhabitants driven by our individual stories of ambition, hope and success as much as our apathy, desperation and failure. We get things done quickly, purposefully and with an exclamation point. We don’t pause. We don’t take deep breaths. We just keep moving.
ADULTERY. Oh, that’s a definite trigger for me. The word itself has a way of summoning hurtful memories of lies, betrayal and infidelity in my former marriage. It’s like reliving the erosion of my spirit, self-worth, and confidence as a sensual being.
I was admittedly jealous of my EX for a few reasons. 1. His spontaneity 2. His fearlessness 3. His damned eyelashes! I tried every drug store brand to fancy department store brand of mascara on the market but nothing could rival the length and volume of his god-given lashes.
The pop of a champagne cork in the quiet of a secluded beach. A toast to another year of love as the sun traces a brilliant path along the still, aquamarine water and tucks itself behind the clouds. The gentle caress of the heat at dusk as the powdery cool sand embraces our feet. A celebratory kiss.
Sweetgreen put it on me like a sensual lover; making me crave more than just memories. It reawakened my desires and got me jonesin' for salad like a grown-ass woman who's just experienced orgasm for the first time. The taste is so seductive I never even blinked at the $12 price tag for a bowl of greens. And now this creature of habit longs for a Sweetgreen salad everyday.
When it comes to art, I LURVE witnessing the genius of creative thinkers, innovators and doers who choose not to conform to current standards but set new ones. And I get so inspired by artists who are willing to sacrifice their egos by challenging status quo, thinking outside the box and taking risks. The kind of artists motivated by passion rather than popularity.
