Grounding

If there is one thing I have learned from traveling a lot over the past year, it's that I need to maintain at least one daily ritual to feel myself in a foreign place. (Brushing my teeth doesn't really count, because I've been doing that since long before I developed a sense of self.) There are a few things that keep me grounded, no matter where I am: making coffee in the morning (good coffee), running, and more recently, maintaining a modest yoga practice. Luckily, I can do all of these things just about anywhere, even here in South Africa.

Coffee is easy. Ground beans, French press, hot water. And if I'm in a pinch I can handle instant, the South African coffee product of choice. (I'll whine and moan, but hot brown water is better than nothing...maybe.)

Running is not as easy. In Brooklyn, I could put on my sneakers and run out the door at just about any time of day. I could run one lap around Prospect Park, or I could run over the Brooklyn Bridge, up the west side and back. I had favorite routes, I knew how long and how easy or difficult they were, and the terrain was familiar and flat. Here, I cannot run in the dark, I only know the two-mile loop around my neighborhood, and I swear I'm always running uphill.

One of the doctors from Edendale invited me to join the local running group, the Hilton Harriers. Well, that's very nice and all, but I've never been a social runner and I'm scared of embarrassing myself on all of these hills. I've promised myself that once I can make it twice around my new loop without gasping for air, I will join the Harriers.

I will eventually find favorite routes around here too – I didn't always know every square inch of Brooklyn. The views here aren't too bad either.

Yoga is different too. At home, I practiced at the most wonderful yoga studio in the world. I adored my teachers and fellow practioners (and still do) and being with all of them in such a warm, happy place. Here, I have a mat (it was one of the first things I bought) and a floor...and Yoga Journal podcasts.

It is not Bodhisattva Yoga, but it is yoga – a practice I have come to love, thanks in no small part to the knowledge and enthusiasm of my teachers. Vivekan and Jess, if you're reading this, thank you. (I can hear your whispering behind the podcasts.) And oh my Buddha, I even use a mediation app!

While I may be thousands of miles from the NY borough I called home, in a strange a place where cars share the road with cows and traffic lights are called robots, I still feel like me. And I'm happy here.