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.
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.
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.
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.
