Turn-Ons: I've discovered my writing spot on the island!
Turn-Offs: There's no free wi-fi or coffee. Kidding!
Rate My Date:
- Not My Type
- 1 Night Stand
- Crush
- In Love
Happily Ever After
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. And I never could've imagined how rewarding it would feel to teach Pilates in this picturesque setting. But more than that; to have the privilege of working with a revolving group of relaxed travelers, unencumbered by hectic schedules, ready to surrender to the island's restorative pace and genuinely reconnect with their bodies. Nothing compares to teaching those who are open to learning. And, as for me, I'm finally growing accustomed to stillness. Without guilt.
But here's the thing: I live on a tiny resort island, in a Staff Village, in a home shared by thirteen spa workers. We live together, eat together and work together. Our life is basically a bubble, inside of a bubble, inside of a bubble. And sometimes I wanna burst the damn bubble and escape! Sometimes I d'wanna see my colleagues, housemates or even guests for that matter, despite how wonderful they are. And I d'wanna hear the incessant ring of the house phone alerting any one of us that a new appointment has been booked. Sometimes what I wanna do is tuck myself anonymously into a Brooklyn-style cafe with free wifi, a strong cuppa coffee and uninterrupted writing time. But there are no cafes here. And, besides, I had writer's block.
But that was until my friend, housemate and colleague recommended her favorite getaway within the bubble. "The Burning Hole" she called it. Intrigued by the possibility of witnessing more of nature's wonders, I hopped on my bike one day and pedaled about three minutes to the end of the road. I parked my bike at the top of a boardwalk and followed it curiously. Unseen from the pebble road and obscured by the thickness of green was this beautiful hut on the water with a single setee and a spectacular view. It practically invited me to make myself comfortable, pull out my journal and drift off into stream-of consciousness writing. The floodgates of overwhelming change and opportunity poured out onto pages that had been empty since my arrival on the island. That burning desire for uninterrupted escape into my fears and dreams were finally articulated in writing. My soul felt satisfied. But I left perplexed as to why that tranquil little oasis is called "The Burning Hole".
