Ya'at'eeh Shikis

Something about me struck the Cabellas worker’s fancy. Maybe it was my adventurous spirit he recognized as he helped me choose a 15-degree sleeping bag and freeze dried vegan meals. Maybe it was my yoga pants. Regardless, he acted interested in everything I said, even the boring things. When we started talking about the Navajo reservation, his eyes lit up with excitement.

‘You HAVE to meet Mike down in customer service. He speaks Navajo’.

‘Okay,’ I decided. ‘But first, can you direct me to the pepper spray and taser guns?’

When I found Mike in customer service, I thought I’d surely made a mistake. He was a short and heavy African American man wearing goggles and an honest smile.

‘Ya’a’teeh Abini’ I said, trying to sound confident. He looked at me with a sense of bewilderment as his brain scurried to process something that was so entirely out of context.

‘Aoo’ Ya’a’teeh Shikis.’ He replied curiously. I smiled. We continued a short conversation until my broken Navajo skills failed us. We switched to English and talked of our roots. His grandmother, a half Navajo and half Mescalero Apache woman raised him.  I told him my story, and he urged me to come back to chat when I return to the area. I grabbed my sleeping bag and pepper spray and we parted ways.

All through the holiday season I’ve wanted to ice skate on the roof of Whole Foods in Austin. I haven’t ice skated since I was a child, and the memory that sticks in my mind is that of being worried that I would fall on the ice and get my fingers cut off by the blade of a fellow skater. I lost one of my bright blue gloves between the car and the rink, so I laced up my skates and rocked my left glove solo. Now, for the sake of this blog, I wish I could say that I wasn’t attached to the wall for the first few laps. And I REALLY wish I could say that I wasn’t competing with the 4 year old in the pink snowsuit for the sidewall. I wish I could. But after a few laps around the rink, I found my groove. I even relaxed my shoulders and my stride. I even started lapping the girl in the pink snowsuit. In fact, her and I became locked in intense competition (unbeknownst to her). I shot around the rink to see how many laps I could do before she completed one. I made 9. Victory. Granted, she did fall halfway through her lap, started crying and had to be comforted by her dad. I’m not necessarily proud of this win; I’m just saying it happened….you know….for the sake of honesty.

Getting the girls together is therapy for my soul. Constantly working around men at the ranch makes me forget what it’s like to surround myself with a great group of girls. Conversation becomes about really listening and contributing valid input rather than competing for the attention of the conversation. It’s so very nice. And then there’s yoga. We lit candles to set a calming mood and pushed the couch back to create room for activities. As I coached my dear friends through the flow of my normal yoga routine, I was filled with the peace and appreciation of finally being on the road.

 ‘Okay, pull your left knee in and under, lowering down into Pigeon pose’. As I sank into Pigeon, I peeked over at my yogi pupils to see Caidon trying to balance in Pigeon pose while simultaneously lifting her bottle of Shiner to her lips. Upon realizing my gaze, she shrugged her shoulders (an impressive feat while drinking and posing) while Keslie and I keeled over in laughter. And that is how ‘beerga’ was invented.

 Over our first glass of wine we hashed out the shallow boy talk. ‘So what’s going on with you and Blemahbla?’

‘I sent him to the island of lost men. He didn’t make the cut. Poor guy. I was really rooting for him.’

Having the four of us together in a room is magic because there is an element of safety and trust that it is difficult to achieve with more than one person. Sometimes it’s nearly impossible to achieve that with ONLY one person. We have all put in the time and effort to create a bond without walls of defense; Any one of us would feel comfortable sharing our innermost dreams, fears, and sick thoughts because we know that our ideas will go un-criticized.  What a unique feeling that is. There should be more of this free feeling in life, but then people wouldn’t have to take the terrifying plunge into vulnerable territory to achieve it. Maybe there is just the right amount of struggle.

As the night progressed, Katie pointed out how special it is that we could all gather together before our lives split ways. We’ve all chosen very different paths of life. Around the same fire we had a nurse, a newlywed/missionary, a teacher, and a tennis pro. When I started planning Tour de Polkahontas, I called these girls first and was surprised at how easily it worked out for us to get together. Sometimes all it takes to connect with old friends is a phone call.