Leaning into Discomfort

The theme of embracing discomforts continues to be pertinent for me whether I think about managing a class of 32 youngsters at one time today, learning to dance cumbia with old men at a traditional birthday party in the countryside this past Sunday or riding a moto with a melting cake last Saturday.

This idea sits well with me because I like to think that, even in the smallest way, leaning into one’s discomfort is really expanding one’s comfort zone and brings an openness to unique moments for growth.

This story begins because I wanted to get some big projects done before I leave for my two week trip to Ecuador and decided to work on a Saturday morning.

So… it’s Saturday morning and I arrive at the Comedor to work on a numbering system for the classroom library. I have asked Katie to join me so that we can tackle the project in little time, but obviously for selfish reasons as well i.e. her company and great conversation.

Project “let’s get a library” began this September; first with books ordered online and later with a generous donation from a supermarket (I think). Having three shelves of books is extremely exciting, but also a site for mayhem. Solution: Organize the library. Besides the creation of a numbering system by reading level, my main (and unspoken) priority was to create a filing system which would differentiate the beautifully illustrated storybooks with positive themes of women protagonists and cultural diversity from the supermarket’s donation of books like “Barbie Rocked All Night”.

With Katie’s help I was sure that we would finish the project in time to meet at Dina’s house for our luncheon. I had been pressing Dina for weeks to make time to teach me how to cook Bolivian food and Saturday was my BIG day.

So Katie and I start working and start talking.

A quick note: Katie and I are both the type of person for whom it is dangerous to leave in a room, unattended and both colored construction paper and great conversation because the combination of the two get us so riled up that we lose all track of reality.

And sure enough it happened.

I know what you’re thinking… “Ella, you’re never on time, so I’m really not surprised.” But really -believe it or not I have become quite punctual here in Montero. If you still don’t believe me, then for sure you’ll understand that it is and has always been out of my nature to pass up a commitment involving food and certainly it is rare for me to go for 4 ½ hours without getting uncontrollably hungry. Agreed.

That… and I should have noticed that time was passing more quickly than I thought as Mariano, the red pick-up driver, sat in the classroom watching The Lion King, MVP: Most Valuable Primate (a classic, chimpanzee turned high school hockey star kind of a movie) and started Ice Age.

However, despite various time-keeping methods, Katie and I failed miserably to keep in check.

It wasn’t until 1:00pm when I finally looked at my watch- making Katie and I now an hour late for our luncheon with Dina. And unlike other Bolivians, Dina runs a tight ship and measures the character of others in terms of two things: presentation and punctuality…Ella 0-2.

First Move: Call Dina and apologize, but she doesn’t come to the phone because she is already eating.

Second Move: Scramble to clean-up, run in 90 degree weather only to hitch a ride with a truck to the market and decide above all else that I must remove wrist watch.

Third Move: Arrive at market sweaty and look for a cake in order to play to Dina’s weakness for chivalry and sweets. In a frenzy of swearing, find only cakes with writing and hope to find one that says, “Is it pitiful that this store-bought cake is our plea for your forgiveness?”

So, we’re set right?

Katie and I jumped on a moto. I held the cake and Katie held on to me. It was then I was really leaning into my discomfort and the cake was leaning too. Back and forth it slid on its little cardboard plate, ever so slowly melting in the freakishly warm sun. I couldn’t help but think, “if and when I fall should I salvage myself first… or the cake?”

So, we arrive and were surprised be greeted with a smile of all things.

Dina and her housekeeper, Selma had prepared for our lunch to be served on a beautiful table with a crocheted, white table cloth which sat below the shady canopy of Dina’s tree.

Together we ate broiled eggplant, cauliflower, chicken, salad and had the best of conversations as we jumped from topic to topic, discussing the growth and change of Montero, the politics of Bolivia, poverty, taxes, Bush, hurricane Katrina, School systems and old people that move to Florida.

Lessons learned: Colored construction paper is disorienting, stereotyping another’s behavior is presumptuous, obvious pleas for forgiveness are sort of endearing and being cared for by hospitable hosts feels pretty freakin’ good.