here I go again

You know that feeling when you say something you really you wish you hadn’t said, and you want to crawl into a hole?

Like that time when I was about 16 years old and working as a busgirl. One of the waitresses mentioned during prep smalltalk that her 2-year old daughter drinks tons of Gatorade. I didn’t know her very well but I admired her and my brain was ready to step in and add to the conversation.

I had heard a rumor just days before, not in a peer-reviewed journal article, but from a friend who had heard from a friend, that Gatorade causes cancer. So I responded with my new-found, super-trustworthy and poignant knowledge.

Here is the awful part: just as I heard the words coming out of my mouth in slow motion, “Gatorade causes can-cerrr……” I remembered that someone had mentioned that this particular wattress’ daughter suffers from a rare form of childhood cancer. In fact, the restaurant where we worked was holding a fundraiser to help pay for the treatment.

I felt like such an asshole. She was gracious and didn’t say anything or make me feel any worse; but I felt like a stupid, stupid jerk. For many years after that date, I would think about that moment and berate myself and cringe. Why did I say that? I say such stupid shit sometimes!

I have been feeling that cringe-y feeling consistently since writing my last amazing and magnificent blog. It seems I am attracting situations where I say something or do something out of my comfort zone, and my brain keeps playing the moments over again to remind me, and I guess train (?) me not to do it again.

Only I am failing at the training because I keep doing and saying more things that make me uncomfortable. And I am realizing that by putting myself out there, out of my comfort zone with my words and actions, I am living my most magical and wonderful life.

I didn’t realize until last week how much I had been avoiding that feeling of discomfort and  vulnerability.

So I’ve been sitting with it, rather than avoiding it. In the past, I tried my best to live in a way where I didn’t put myself out there; to avoid feeling it. I think avoiding those hard feelings is human nature. We like to come up with distractions to keep us from really feeling our feelings.

(Candy Crush doesn’t count - feel free to send lives and extra moves).

Louis C.K. recently talked about this tendency to avoid, and the beauty that lies in allowing ourselves to really feel our feelings:

I was in my car one time and a Bruce Springsteen song comes on. … I heard it and it gave me a fall, back-to-school depression feeling. It made me really sad, and I go, OK, I’m getting sad. I’ve got to get the phone and write ‘Hi’ to 50 people. … I started to get that sad feeling and I was going to reach for the phone, and I said, ‘You know what, don’t. Just be sad. Just let the sadness stand in the way of it. And let it hit you like a truck.’

I pulled over and I just cried like a bitch. I cried so much and it was beautiful. It was like this beautiful… it was just this… sadness is poetic. You’re lucky to live sad moments. And then I had happy feelings because when you let yourself feel sad your body has antibodies. It has happiness rushing in to meet the sadness. I was grateful to feel sad and then I met it with true, profound happiness. It was such a trip, you know?

The thing is because we don’t want that first bit of sad, we push it away…

I have pushed away my own uncomfortable feelings for a long time. I am seeing now how my avoidance of that feeling of discomfort and vulnerability has been standing in the way of my magnificence. I have been afraid to shine  because of the fear of putting myself out there and being rejected.  

And I think the positive response to my last blog is fucking with me a bit. Let’s face it, y’all probably aren’t all going to love everything I write or say all of the time. I have to be able to sit with that or I am going to miss out on the trove of riches that lay beyond that feeling of discomfort.

By that I mean, I believe that we are here on Earth as part of a personal journey of growth and evolution. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “We are all inventors, each sailing out on a voyage of discovery, guided each by a private chart, of which there is no duplicate.”

We are here to find and heed to our individual quest, to find our personal treasure trove and be the best version of ourselves that we can be; we are here to grow and evolve and learn. By going deep into those parts of ourselves we avoid, deep into those unpleasant feelings of fear, sadness, discomfort, and vulnerability, we can unlock and uncover our individual magnificence.

Joseph Campbell, also speaking of this individual journey, said, “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.” 

That cave is a metaphor for our own hearts. We must be willing to go deep into the parts of ourselves we fear and avoid and uncover the brilliance that lies underneath.

Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

#pokerpro #yogalawyer #jedi #kalidasheart #kalidas #kelliHastings #yoga #Emerson

New blog entry. You're welcome.

So! It has been a while since I’ve written a blog. I’m sure you have noticed because your existence likely revolves around my semi-periodic updates and life-ponderings.

I’ve been beating myself up for weeks to write something to no avail. Then, today, here I am. I have to admit, I think reading Karl Webster’s latest blog incited something within. It is just an observance based on proximity in time: I read his blog, I started to write. He is a mad word genius.

What have I been up to? Living the dream. Though the dream hasn’t been going exactly as I dreamed. After getting back from Italy with the idea that I would become a much-more-full-time-yoga-teacher and finish my book to become a best-selling author, I realized that I was broke. And then I remembered that I went to law school and that I could make really good money being a lawyer.

So I started lawyering more. I didn’t really have to do anything to make it happen. Friends and family and others were calling me with legal problems. The problems ranged from simple wills to auto accidents to child custody issues with some of my old stuff (workers’ compensation, disability, appeals) sprinkled in. I used to turn these types of cases down. Now it seems I woke up and realized I have 11 years of solid legal experience that I can use it to help others, especially when they are being bullied by the system or those with more money.

And I am still teaching yoga. It has actually picked up quite a bit lately. I have an upcoming retreat with Timo Jimenez October 9-13 here in Central Florida, part of which will be a nature retreat at Wekiwa Springs (shameless plug). I have also taken on a single yoga apprentice Jedi-Knight-style (or Sith-Lord-style, if that is your incliniation). That is turning into a powerful learning experience for me.

In addition to being a yoga-lawyer-Jedi-Knight, I have also been playing poker once or twice per week for the last two months. That sort of makes me a part-time poker pro. Maybe that sounds ridiculous. It is actually awesome.

I really feel I am living the dream. I believe I can create my perfect life and career by following my heart while listening to (and sometimes politely ignoring) my mind; by going with the flow and letting things unfold they way they want to, rather than the way I insist they should. And things aren’t unfolding exactly as I would have thought they should. I thought I wanted to stop lawyering and teach yoga and finish my book.

And I can’t lie and say that the bitchy voice in my head hasn’t had something to say about all this. About how I should be writing my book and blogging more often and not playing poker and detoxing everyday to lose 7 pounds because I have somehow convinced my fucked up brain that even though I am a now a size 6 and I used to be a size 12, I should be a size 4. I blame society for that one. You suck.

So what brilliant, yoga-influenced musings about life are on my mind today, you ask? Pratyahara has been the idea of late. Before I lose you non-yogis, pratyahara refers to the yoga practice of turning inward in response to the ups-and-downs of life, rather than always blaming our outer life circumstances for our problems.

It is a way of evolving and learning from the situations in our life; we accept all that happens, both good and bad, as part of the process. It is a practice that is rooted in the realization that all of the outer circumstances of life are a reflection of the inner world; and that the solution to all of our “problems” lies there too.

Amma has been on my mind lately too. She was the “hugging saint” E and I met our last trip to India. I feel that the meeting with her has continued to influence my life since. She says,

Our minds make our lives beautiful or ugly. We try to learn about the outside world but never our inner world. We try to right the outside world and forget to right ourselves. We are slaves to the outside world. We bear many physical and mental scars. We bear many unhealed wounds. Total happiness cannot come from the outside world. It’s like trying to hold the sky or sail across land. Life is short we must try to celebrate it. You hold only this moment in your hands.

Even in the yoga community, we have drama and rifts. It has reached a pinnacle recently. The problems arise when we forget to use our outer circumstances as a chance to look inward with a mind toward growth and evolution; when we consistently blame the people in our lives that “did” something to us, rather than taking accountability and responsibility for our own actions and looking objectively at the part we played in creating that drama and those rifts.

We have a unique opportunity living in the West with "first world" problems. We don't have to be concerned about our next meal or shelter over our heads. We can spend time working on ourselves and doing our inner work. In fact, we may owe it to the rest of the world.

And no one said practicing what we preach is easy all the time. The good thing is that at any moment we can be “enlightened” by practicing pratyahara. Those also practicing their “yoga” (whatever form it may take), will forgive you for your past failings. We can all move forward together with the intention of watching the whole world collectively evolve, in a way similar to the internal evolution we are fostering with our practice.

All this while remembering this place can be really fun sometimes! It doesn’t always reek with sadness and despair. Even Amma knows how to party; she reminds us to “celebrate” life. 

So don’t listen to the mean voice in your head when it tells you you can’t be a yoga-lawyer-Jedi-Knight-poker-pro. I can only speak from experience; it is possible. 

Live the dream.

Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

#pokerpro #yogalawyer #jedi #kalidasheart #kalidas #kelliHastings

#pratyahara #yoga

A Spirited Cassadaga Adventure

Cassadaga is a wonderful place, full of charm and history. The town is especially known for its large population of psychics and mediums, and has been referred to as “The Psychic Capital of the World.” To have that many “sensitive” people in the same place seems to raise the vibration, and I felt my own sensitivity heightened. 

The place buzzes with an energy that almost reminds me of Las Vegas - like you could stay up all night and never get tired. The gift shops are loaded with fun items: stones and gems that resonate with discernable energy signatures, new age books, jewelry, candles, incense, smudge kits, and curios. While looking around amidst the stones and other spiritual trinkets, I noticed a tube of poison ivy cream that didn’t seem to fit in, but I hardly gave it another thought. It was in the giftshop of the Cassadaga hotel, where we were staying. The hotel was built in 1894, and was beautifully preserved and quite comfortable. The front desk receptionist reported that the place is haunted with friendly spirits.

Soon after we arrived on Friday, we attended a tea leaves reading class, where we learned how to read tea leaves in order to forecast the future. Loose tea is used, and you actually get to drink the tea first, which is pretty sweet. High tea was already one of my favorite pastimes - with the finger sandwiches and the fine cheeses and pastries and scones and pate and champagne and good company (and tea). Add in the ability to forecast the future, and High Tea now goes to 11.

Reading tea leaves is not as mystical and mysterious as you may think. It mainly involves trying to discern what pictures and symbols you see in the loose tea left in your cup and saucer after you drink your delicious tea. It relies on your ability to hear your inner voice and connect with your inner wisdom, traits that yoga helps us tap into.

And yoga was a big part of why we were at Cassadaga. We had a yoga class Friday night after our tea leaves, and another Saturday and Sunday morning. The yoga focused on connecting to the energetic and healing aspects of the practice so as to hear and perceive this inner wisdom more clearly. Cassadaga seemed the perfect location to explore these more subtle aspects of yoga.

And the grounds of Cassadaga are beautiful. There are several parks and preserved natural areas ripe for exploring. On Saturday, I was determined to find a good climbing tree. After spotting a good one and just about having one foot up the tree already, K pointed out that there was a vine growing around it that looked suspiciously like poison ivy. I slowed my approach for a second but I wasn’t going to be stopped. This was a really good climbing tree. The tree was magnificent and totally worth the climb. I came down and looked at the pictures K had Googled on her phone and saw that the vines did look pretty much exactly like poison ivy. We also realized that we had both already walked through other suspiciously-poison-ivy-looking vines about five minutes prior to my tree climb. 

Oh yeah, and wasn’t there poison ivy cream in the gift shop? No worries, we washed our legs and arms off in classy fashion in a park bathroom. Wikipedia told us that not everyone exposed to poison ivy experiences a reaction, so we decide this is clearly a mind-over-matter, yoga-healing-type situation. So far so good.

The seance was Saturday night. It was the highlight of the trip. K and I were lucky enough to meet some super-interesting people who attended a similar seance with the same medium, Mary Hayes, earlier in the day. It was funny how we met them - we basically took over the front porch of their hotel room, not realizing it was a private front porch. They were super sweet and welcoming. They explained that you tell Mary your name, and the name of loved one that has passed that you wish to connect with. They advised that you should have a question ready to ask your loved one. They were caught a little off-guard by this part, because they weren’t sure what to ask, so we appreciated the heads up.

When the time for the seance arrived that evening, 26 of us squeezed into a cozy room on the second floor of the old hotel. When Mary walked in the room, the energy shifted. To me, she glowed. Her eyes were wide and beautiful; her glance was filled with a deep knowing, and I felt like I connected with her on an extrasensory level when I looked into her eyes. Mary is not like the mediums you might see on television. She generally doesn’t come up with crazy facts that only great Aunt Mary would know in order to prove to you that she is really talking to great Aunt Mary. Nor does she become possessed with the spirit of your loved one like Whoopi Goldberg in “Ghost.” It was far less spooky, and felt much more spiritual.

Everyone of the 26 of us (we were told we were an especially large group) got about five minutes to ask her questions. She explained that she speaks to lost loved ones indirectly, essentially by channeling angels that talk to the loved ones directly, and she relays the message to the audience. She closes her eyes while she channels and her affect changes, which definitely heightens the feeling that something other-worldly is going on.

The experience was extremely uplifting, and there was the distinct sensation that she was “in the divine flow” while channelling. It was the same feeling I have had while in the presence of living saints and masters, like Amma and Paramahansa Prajnananda; everything they say seems personally applicable to everyone listening, even when they aren’t talking to you directly. I could see how the advice from loved ones she was giving to others were applicable to my own life.

When it was time for her to talk to Ma, it was heart-tugging when Daniel came through. The message caught me off-guard a bit, when Daniel stopped Ma’s question just to voice and acknowledge how truly tenderhearted she is. I looked at her and saw that she IS tenderhearted. It was as though he said it specifically for my benefit, and it filled my heart with gratitude. I can finally see the tenderhearted goodness of my mother. It took me awhile to get here. I see that I am the one that has changed, finally able to perceive reality without the filters of the past that have colored my vision for so long.

I also see that I am attracting tenderhearted souls into my life; and I am now able to see how many sweet, sensitive, and amazing people I have around me. The Cassadaga Adventure highlighted for me the wonderful people I have in my life. For the longest time, I wasn’t able to see that; I saw heartbreak and anger and meanness in my relationships. I am thankful for those rough times, as it was the heartbreak and suffering that brought me to a place where I can now see the sweetness. And I don’t doubt that it is me that has changed; I am able to see more of the beauty in the world around me. I came across this quote this morning, and it touched me and made me think of the lesson that Cassadaga illuminated; that our rough patches make room for the sweetness, and that there is always hope:

This trip was certainly enlightening. We didn’t see any of the friendly spirits in the hotel, but it does feel like each of us was touched by spirit during our stay.





Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Adventures in Italia: Episode III

We arrived in Rome Saturday evening and we had two-and-a-half days to explore the City before heading back to America on Tuesday morning. Rome is wonderful. It reminds me of New York City; it is fast-paced with metro subways and it bustles with life and the arts. There are street musicians and piazzos (plazas) where people sit and drink and eat and enjoy life.

Yet, mixed in with the modern is the ancient. Really ancient. Thousands of years old ancient. In Rome, you might see a high rise next to monument built in 60 AD. In fact, you will probably see many.

Often when I travel outside of America, I catch myself acting very American. In America, we eat big and we act big and sometimes we piss people off. Whenever I do something “American,” like eat an enormous amount of food or do something accidentally discourteous while traveling, I’m reminded of the song from “Team America, World Police”: “America, Fuck Yeah.”

In Rome, I found this happening quite a bit. Whenever it did, the song would play in my mind (or I would sing it lightly to my American entourage) and I would snicker.

On Sunday morning, our first morning in Rome, Ma, E and I set out with the intention of seeing the Vatican Museum and St. Peters’ Basillica, both in Vatican City. It is bittersweet for Ma and me. Worse for her than me - being here without my dad and brother - and especially being here without my dad. She and my dad had always planned to come here together, but weren’t able to make it happen during his lifetime. My dad was a very strong Catholic; he even traveled down to Miami to see Pope John Paul II when the Pope came to the U.S. in the eighties. He would have loved this place, and it was hard for both of us to be here without him.

I woke up Sunday morning with a sense of adventure. I had the thought almost immediately upon waking: “Today is going to be a great adventure.” It was directly followed by the thought, “but I’m with my ma today, is she going to be up for an adventure?” I countered that thought with another: “Why not? Who am I to decide she isn’t?”

Ma probably wouldn’t disagree that she is a little less adventurous than me, but she would also say that she is certainly up for an adventure. We had heard from several people that we should arrive early to the Vatican in order to beat the crowds, but things don’t always work out as planned.

Our day started with us deciding to try to find the closer metro subway station, the one we had been warned was more difficult to find than the one by the Colosseum. We had easily found the one by the Colosseum the night before. But warning me that something may be difficult is like daring me to do it. So we set out, and we had some difficulty finding the closer metro station. I wouldn’t say we were “lost” because I had a pretty good idea of where we were the whole time. At the same time, I was not completely sure where the metro station was.

I battled with the voice in my head about taking this path – we should have gone toward the easier metro station by the Colosseum – then we could arrive early at the Vatican as recommended and beat the crowds. Now we would be late and probably miss everything. A different voice in my head reminded me that everything happens for a reason and is all part of the divine plan. Maybe we were meant to go this way for some other reason that just wasn’t obvious at the moment. Look, there is a nice park we wouldn’t have seen if we hadn’t gotten lost.

At that moment, Ma said, “We should have gone the other way.” I tried the tactic that had worked with brain voice: “If we had gone the other way, we wouldn’t have seen this nice park that we can take E too tomorrow when we have more time.”

“Yeah but what are the chances you will be able to find it again?” Ma said. We were both agitated. I did notice and found it amusing for the first time that Ma often says out loud the things my brain voice says to me in private. That might be why she gets to me like no one else can. I don’t think I’m alone in this phenomenon. The voice of our parents often becomes the voice in our heads that we psychologically battle with, and we often have strained relationships with our parents in real life as a result. Maybe she was right, maybe we wouldn’t find it again. At the same time, I couldn’t let go of the belief that this was all part of the greater plan and that today was going to be an adventure.

Sometimes the reason things happen the way they do isn’t obvious to us right away, or maybe not even for many years. I used to live my life with the belief that bad things happen and that it just means that life is shitty. But that isn’t my way of being anymore. I’ve looked the worst-case scenario in the eye. I’ve suffered greatly; and yet, I’m always able to look back and see how things were exactly how they needed to be. I’m always able to look back and see how, in the very least, those awful things that have happened have gone into the formula of making me who I am. This isn’t false optimism; it is a sense of divine peace that comes with living through and surrendering to extreme suffering and realizing that we are here on Earth to learn. If nothing else, we are here on Earth to learn.

We finally found the metro and got on. By now it was well past 11:00 AM and we were clearly late for our “planned” arrival time. I saw my reflection in the window of the metro. Have you ever seen your reflection and not recognized yourself? When I looked up, I didn’t see me, I saw my dad. I saw his features in my face. My reflection smiled back at me - but it wasn’t my smile; it was my dad’s. Upon seeing this, my face lit up with happiness, and I saw that my reflection was me again smiling happily at just seeing my dad. Instantly, I felt that my dad was here with us, and that getting on the metro at this moment was exactly what was supposed to happen. It was his way of reassuring me.

We took the metro to the Vatican exit and got off. We had a choice: head toward the museums or to St. Peter’s. Now it was noon and we were clearly late for either choice. So much for getting there early and beating the crowds. We walked with the flow and half-heartedly decided to go to St. Peter’s in the middle of Vatican Square, both Ma and I doubting it was the right choice. We got to the square and we saw the huge lines to get into St. Peter’s church. Ugh. Maybe we should have gone to the museums.

The square itself is beautiful and it was quite a sight just to be there. We noticed that people were piling in toward the middle of the square while leaving lots of room on the outside. Weird. I thought I heard someone say something about a camera and assumed a crew was filming something and that was why people were pushing toward the center: to get on camera. Maybe they were filming a movie about the Pope?

Then, all of a sudden, the crowd started cheering. We looked up and, I shit you not, there stood the mother-f-ing Pope, up high in a window waving down to the crowd. We had arrived at EXACTLY the right moment. We were getting to see the f-ing pope. THE POPE. The main guy for the Catholic church. And not just any Pope, but Papa Francesco, already beloved by the people for being a man of the people. Holy crap. My dad would be freaking out.

And I realized that my dad may have had a hand in orchestrating the whole thing. If we hadn’t taken the long way, we would have gotten here early and missed the Pope. I couldn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face or the thoughts of my dad. He must have been in on it the whole time. Must have. Ma was crying too. She also realized the perfect-ness of arriving at that moment, and we both were overjoyed. Even E was excited at seeing the Pope and brought it up many times during the rest of our stay in Rome.

The Pope gave a 20 minute-or-so homily in Italian, and it was projected onto huge monitors in the square. That must have been what the cameras were for. I was able to make out a few words about living life rightly and helping others. At several points people clapped and cheered in response to things he said. At one point, I could make out something he said about blessing America. When he said, “America” the crowd clapped and cheered. I thought, “America, Fuck-Yeah!”

It reminded me a lot of my experience with meeting Amma. I could feel that Papa Francesco, like Amma, vibrates on a higher spiritual level, and that just being there in his presence was a gift. We were receiving darshan from a living saint. How amazing is that?

We left the square, still riding on high, and tried to make it to the museums. Turns out they were closing early. Oh well. Maybe tomorrow. We went for some sliced pizza instead and I got the best pizza I’ve had in Italy all trip: pesto with mushrooms and truffle oil. Food porn for sure:

We did end going to the museum the next day and we got to see the inside of St. Peter’s Basillica. We also got to see The Colosseum, The Pantheon, The Spanish Steps, and Trevi Fountain, among other ancient sites and ruins. They were all pretty cool, but nothing beat seeing Papa Francesco. I found that visiting the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican Museum reminded me of going to Ikea: you have to zig-zag through the entire place just to get there, and you are never sure when you will get to the glorious end. Of course, the end in this case is the Sistine Chapel, not the holy cash registers.

The Sistine Chapel was spectacular, and St. Peter’s is more grand than any church I’ve ever seen. It may be the most grand church on Earth. We enjoyed more amazing food, and some divine gelato, before heading back to American early Tuesday morning.

And then...

My husband and my luggage was lost!

Hurray, we don’t have to carry it!

It is crazy the amount of luggage karma we’ve had going on this trip. We decided that we had both metaphorically lost a lot of “baggage” during our Italy Adventure. Old emotional baggage. Oh Universe, you silly Girl.

Altogether, this has been a life-altering trip, culminating in our splendid stay in Rome. I expect when I travel to India for my yearly yoga sojourn for it to be life-changing and soul-searching, but Italy sort of snuck up on me. I’ve learned much about myself on this trip, and challenged some of my most deep-seated thoughts and beliefs. Those thoughts and beliefs were boxing-in and filtering my reality so that I was not able to perceive all of the glory happening around me. I’ve let a lot of that go, and things certainly seem rosier and relationships a little easier. Oh, how I want to get back to Rome!

They say that when you throw a coin in the Trevi Fountain, you are destined to return to Rome. I’ve ensured my swift return by doing just that.

Arrivederci, Italia! Until we meet again…

Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com

Adventures in Italia, part due!

The second half of our Italy trip is now well underway. We have been so busy I’ve barely had a chance to take a breath, much less to sit down and write. We are staying in Massa Lubrense, a small town south of Naples on the Amalfi Coast. It is centrally located and off the beaten path, so it is perfect for us and far less tourist-y than other nearby areas, like Sorrento.

Our Luggage Strikes Back

During the four-hour train ride from where we were staying at the yoga retreat outside of Salento into Naples, we cursed ourselves for bringing so much luggage. We were forced to pile it up between our seats for the train ride to the point we couldn’t even see each other or sit comfortably. At one point E cried out, "where is mommy?!" I peaked my head over and responded so he could see i was sitting directly across from him.

I couldn't help but be amused by our predicament: the first part of our trip all we wanted was our luggage after it was lost by the airline and now we wished we didn't have it at all. I noticed how quickly we forget and succumb to the mental game of lamenting our situation; whether the situation is not having the luggage or having too much luggage doesn’t seem to matter. Our minds like to find something to bitch about.

Our Fabulous Villa

The luggage dilemma was quickly over and we made it to our villa, luggage and all. Our villa may be the most amazing place I have ever seen. It is gigantic; and the view is spectacular. We are up high on the cliff overlooking the Mediterranean Sea:

When we first got here it took me more than a day to get my bearings in the house. There are hidden terraces, a secret bathroom cave, artifacts, curios, knick-knacks and antique furniture around every corner. There is also a perfect room for our yoga practice; its upstairs on the third floor with an attached terrace overlooking the sea. The room has a distinct resonance different from the rest of the house, and feels like it vibrates after our morning practice sessions.

Just down the street there is an authentic local market with fresh smoked mozzarella stuffed with olives and peppers, countless other cheeses; fresh fruits like strawberries, cherries, apples, plums, watermelon, cantaloupe; beautiful home-grown vegetables; fragrant herbs; and local wine for 4 euros a bottle.

Eat, Eat, Eat

Up the road there is a little restaurant with the most amazing antipasto. We’ve eaten there twice already. The first time Rob and I went alone. The waiter speaks no English and didn’t give us a menu. He started talking to us in fast Italian and all we could make out was “antipasto.” We nodded our heads and said, “Si.”

First came a plate of bruschetta and I looked at Rob and said, “could this be it for the antipasto?” Before I could get the words out if my mouth, two large plates were placed on our table - one filled with fresh octopus and the other with squid combined with walnuts, cilantro and celery. I think in my whole life to date I’ve eaten less squid or octopus than I have this week. They are my new favorite foods; the seafood here is so fresh and delicious. After we dove into the squid and octopus platters, assuming that must be it for the antipasto, out came an enormous plate of fried Italian specialties - arancinis (which are large fried balls stuffed with rice and cheese), fried potato-cheese-and-prosciutto-stuffed-thingys, along with bread-crumby fried eggplant deliciousness. Then came an assortment of smoky vegetables - zucchini, peppers, butternut squash, green beans and more. Last came two giant hunks of mozzarella topped with prosciutto. It was never-ending and only 12 euros each. I forgot to mention the wine - I asked for "vino" and again the waiter muttered something in fast Italian and I nodded. I guess I ordered the large because we got nearly a gallon of red table wine delivered to our table. It was heaven - rich and slightly sweet on the tongue.

We went back again the night before last and ordered the antipasto again, this time feeling like we knew what we were doing. (Sort of). The antipasto was similar to our first experience but this time it came with indescribably-delicious fresh mussels instead of prosciutto and mozzarella. We decided that agreeing with whatever our fast-talking waiter suggested worked the first time, so why mess with success? In addition to the antipasto he brought us house-made flat pasta with clams and mussels that was divinity on a plate. We followed that with cannolis and cake for dessert and a drink he called “limocini” - not to be confused with limoncello (he corrected us when we suggested it was limoncello) - which is apparently homemade as well. From what we understood, it was grain alcohol with lime and one sip of it made my lips numb. Here is a picture of our antipasto:

It would be an understatement to say that I am eating the best food of my life. Liz Gilbert’s “Eat” portion of “Eat, Pray, Love” is no joke. Italy is fabulous for food.

So far from our home base in Massa Lubrense we have traveled to Sorrento, the island of Ischia, Positano and Amalfi. We have eaten our way around each of these places and experienced food like none I’ve experienced before. Oh, and they are each fabulous sites to see, too, of course. I’ve just got a one-track mind.

Still more adventures to come...


Check out my new and improved website: www.theyogalawyer.com