Adventure Before Dementia

We experienced our first blackout on our 4th night in Cuba. After 3 nights in Havana, we traveled to Trinidad on the south coast of the island and the lights went out at exactly 7 PM, plunging the small coastal community into darkness. We were prepared, Vanessa, our tour guide, host and yoga instructor, warned us of the blackouts and made sure we brought headlamps on the trip. I was actually kind of happy to have a blackout, walking around like a prepared coal miner, up for the challenge. In a few minutes, as our eyes adjusted and our headlamps cut a path in the darkness, the lights came back on. Jose, the manager of our Air B and B kicked on a generator, its gentle hum meant the lights in our room would work until the fuel was gone, most likely around 3 in the morning. The power usually came back on in the morning. 

“Cuba, what are you gonna do?” He said. 

What are you gonna do? For starters, we were gonna turn off our headlamps and head to the roof to stargaze and take in the last full moon of the year.  

Our Air B and B was a compound of apartments and rooms clustered under lush green growth and a huge avocado tree with ripe avocados still available at the very top of the tree, a climb we didn’t dare to attempt on an island with severe medication shortages and less than ideal healthcare options.  

“The last full moon of the year”, that was the line delivered by Mickie earlier in the afternoon as she started her yoga class on the roof of a historic hotel and garden in the old city. The hotel has been owned by the same family since the 1700’s. Inside the main lobby were various collections, from old cameras to china to sculptures and so much more. It was a mini museum and a pleasant surprise compared to the drab, ordinary homes and store fronts that lined the rickety cobble streets of Trinidad. 

This was our 4th yoga class of the Cuba Yoga Retreat, an engaging way to strip to the essence of your soul from breath to breath and pose to pose on the confounding island of Cuba. A place that is filled with contradictions, poverty, restrictions, charm, beauty, truth and resiliency. Sitting on that roof, looking at the sun setting into the Caribbean below, breathing deeply and exhaling to the cloud enshrouded mountains in front of us and listening to Mickie as she prepared us for our practice, I was intently present and grateful to be in this moment.  

It was a moonrise salutation honoring the last full moon of the year and for some reason it hit me, hard. I was not prepared for the emotions that started to build within me. I was wiping away tears as Mickie talked about her journey that lead her to this fleeting moment in Cuba. 

She spoke, and asked us to envision the people in our lives for whom we are grateful, the circle of gratitude. For her, it was an ever expanding circle of people she was grateful for, where one person lead to another and another as the circle of gratitude expanded. I started my own circle of gratitude slideshow of those who bring me joy and comfort and happiness and security and validation and hope and warmth and love and peace. 

It was the last full moon of the year and we were taking the time to honor it, as the sun kept its ever determinant pace toward the horizon. 

It was not lost on me that all of these elements worked together in a profound and meaningful way on that ornately tiled rooftop on the forbidden island of Cuba. 

Exhale…inhale. Hold it. Hold it. It was the last full moon of the year. There will not be another one. 

In this moment of clarity, I took inventory of the year that was. There was a great deal of living and growth and accomplishments and failures and pain and triumph and life. More than anything, there was a great deal of life this year. 

I am not an experienced yogi, my wife practices nearly every day and I had the pleasure of marveling at her strength and abundant energy she brought to every move. Her year was being demonstrated on that rooftop, she worked hard this year. I hope that I can be more confident in my practice by the last full moon of the coming year. 

The moon salutation ended and we sat in meditation for several minutes as the sun said her goodbyes, leaving space for the coming moon. 

The concept of gratitude takes on new meaning in the darkness. In gratitude for the certainty of light that comes from the flick of a switch. Frustration and anger when the switch yields nothing but darkness. 

In Cuba, the switch was turned off in the late 50’s during the Cuban “Revolution”, when Castro surprised everyone in his rise to power. He said what people wanted to hear, in a way that connected to many of them. The reality of his reign would soon be revealed to those who dared to challenge or question his judgement or decisions. 

So many decisions were made, Cubans lament the history of Cuba as one bad decision after another. 

To prepare for the trip, we were told to bring medicines for any possible ailment and bring plenty of it so you could leave it on the island. The black market is fueled by Advil and pepto bismol and aspirin and cold medicine. You could not find these things in the market you had to bring them with you, just in case. 

The black market and the side hustles were necessary for survival because wages were paltry. In spite of the conditions and the scarcity of resources, we never felt threatened or in danger. We were welcomed and somewhat celebrated. 

Tourism is vitally important in Cuba and we met people from around the world; Italy, Germany, Canada (lots of Canadians) and Norway. We saw some other Americans as well. 

When we told friends we were going to Cuba, they were surprised we were allowed to visit. It was a relatively easy process to get a visa and book a flight from Miami to Havana on American Airlines. 

We were wandering the cobblestone streets of Trinidad one evening, listening to a jazz trio taking turns on a tune when a gregarious gentleman greeted us with a big smile. 

“Come and sit for the best jazz music on the island! Even if you don’t come inside, know we are so happy you are here. Thank you for coming and staying in our hotels and eating our food. Thank you! Tell your friends at home to come see us in Cuba. Fuck our government, they don’t help us but you do…thank you so much.”

Gratitude. 

I was grateful to be here, to help just a little bit, to share Cuban pesos liberally. The exchange rate from dollars to pesos was around 320 to one, so thousand pesos was roughly $9. I bought a round of 5 drinks earlier in the evening for 3,900 pesos ($12). 

There is a surprising variety of live music in Trinidad, talented artists. We wandered with our ears, and followed with our feet, dancing to the Latin rhythms on the cobblestone streets. 

The rolling blackouts we experienced in Trinidad were a new wrinkle in the complicated history of Cuba. The fall of Venezuela, the stress on Russia in their war with Ukraine and a recent rail derailment weakened an already fragile infrastructure. We saw the lines for fuel in Havana. Gratitude. 

There are still many here who remember what Cuba was like before the “Revolution”. 

I remember hearing stories from my grandfather about their visits to Havana in the early 50’s. My mother grew up in Miami Beach with my grandparents and there were plenty of ships that sailed daily, 90 miles south to the friendly tropical island of Cuba. 

My grandfather would tell me stories about winning in the casinos, dancing with my grandmother and smoking cigars into the evening. It sounded so romantic. I asked my brother if he remembered hearing these stories, he didn’t recall ever hearing about those carefree Havana nights. But I did, chatting it up with grandpa while strolling along Lincoln Road, I remember hearing those stories about the enchanted island of the Caribbean, Cuba. (It made the memory even more special, more romantic because he shared it with me.)

On that rooftop, as the moon rose over the island, the last full moon of the year, my gratitude turned toward my grandfather, looking dapper in a black suit, a fedora on his head, my grandmother’s hand in his and a wide smile on his face, punctuated by a fat cigar in the corner of his mouth. 

I realized that my emotions on the roof were not about the people who are surrounding me now or about the generosity of the universe that brought me to this moment. My heart was full with the vibrations of my ancestors, the often unseen fabric of which we are made and will never lose. 

The roots of my past connected me to the complicated history of this magnificent place. Forever grateful for all the yesterdays that have led me to today. 

When we arrived in Havana, there was a laminated tag on our door that greeted us with our name and welcomed us to our “Shanti-Shanti Suite”

Shanti Shanti 

Derived from Sanskrit, Shanti means peace. 

Shanti Shanti is a reminder that all living things are part of the same whole. 

Om Shanti…eternal peace for all humankind.