I Want to be a Hindu Cow, Dammit!

Perhaps it’s not experiencing every single type of hell to taste the heights of heaven for only a moment that makes life worth living.  Perhaps the answer lies within the in between spaces…

See that mellow look in that cow's eyes, that should be me doing yoga.

You’d think I’d be as clear and as calm as a Hindu cow with all the yoga I've been practicing lately, but instead here’s this anxiety riding, self-obliterating person who has been a complete asshole –mainly to herself.

The past few months have resulted in an over-stressed, over-committed, ambivalent being that has been focusing far too much on everything that’s wrong rather all that is perfect and right.

Then something happened.  I was in class trying to get into virasana pose (this pose is also an asshole), visibly getting frustrated as I moved props under my knees and still felt too much pressure.  I shifted back into baddha konasana and watched everyone else meditate in perfect virasanas.  Then judgment: I was yelling at my knees in my head then wondering how on earth is every goddamned person in this room in this pose?  It’s not like I see each of them in class week after week or day after day in the studio...

By the third pose my teacher took a moment to come up to me and look me in the eye.  She said, “I need you to practice compassion for yourself today.  I need you to be patient with yourself and be kind to yourself.”  She touched my solar plexus area before saying, “You’re beautiful.”

I kept my composure and kept nodding my head up until the “you’re beautiful” part, at which point I started crying and proceeded to cry throughout every subsequent pose in class.

In yoga they say that one goes through the process of self discovery that sometimes is not always smooth sailing.  This process is called Dukkha.

The only way out is through.

In the Heart of Yoga by T. K. V. Desikachar it says, “Someone who is searching for clarity always sees more suffering than someone who is not.  The awareness of suffering results from greater sensitivity.  The person who is not searching for clarity does not even know what brings him happiness or sorrow.”

Desikachar says that “through the insightful percept of problems and confusions we move toward clarity.”

When people wonder why I continue to practice yoga and want to teach it I say this: I’m not there yet, but I feel more like myself than I've felt in a really long time.  This clarity, while not always pretty – is worth it all to me.  This same clarity is what keeps propelling me further into living purposefully, fearlessly, transparently and BOLDLY.  I’m not afraid of myself anymore and perhaps I’m not sold on believing that I’m beautiful yet, but I’m getting there.  As my other teacher always says: slowly, slowly.

It just takes practice.

The Magic Between the Living and the Dead

“Have you ever seen a deer so small, it’s like the size of my dog,” Brad* said.

“I didn’t realize it was dead,” I said when we decided to get out of the car.  Its head had been smashed in.  It was the smallest fawn I’d ever seen and the blood had collected in a small puddle around its ear.  Its eyes were open and lifeless.

I stood over the body and the cars seemed fast so close to us as they swished by.  This is man and nature colliding, I thought.

“We can’t just leave it here,” Brad said.

“I’ve got my medicine bag in the car,” I said as I crossed the busy street more carefully than the doe had attempted.  We didn’t have a lighter so we prayed over the body and sprinkled sage and copal over it.  Brad closed its eyes before lifting its body and carrying it into the woods to place behind a tree.  We both squatted there and Brad and I both saw it breathing.  Brad said its body was stiff, though I hadn’t touched it. 

The sunlight crept through the trees and the shadows danced on the fawn’s belly.  The belly inflated and deflated again.  Brad and I crouched there looking at one another in disbelief.  This was magic.  This was sacred.  This was real.  We both bore witness to the miraculous dance in the time that exists between the living and the dead.

There have been many studies done where people don’t see things because they  don’t expect to see things.  How many things do we miss in our awareness because we believe it to be unbelievable or perhaps unexpected?  The mind is a very powerful thing - it can train itself to react to a very strict reality, but what happens when you begin to open those windows of consciousness? When those rules that dictate reality begin to bend so slightly? How much more aware will you be?  How much more will you see?

*The name was changed.  

Weekend Confession

I left town without really telling anyone so it wasn’t a huge surprise that my family kept calling me.  Nor was it surprising, considering the circumstances, that I didn’t answer.

People have a tendency to fear what they don’t understand and I’d be hard pressed to explain to my Catholic family how important it was for me to be present at a sweat lodge ceremony in St. Louis, Missouri the weekend before I move.

But, remember how I promised to be more honest?  In efforts to demystify my spiritual excursions and to gain understanding and respect for my beliefs and practices I’d like to share something I’ve never shared publicly before.

The sweat lodge is a native American/indigenous ritual of purification.  This purification comes in several forms: the physical: sweating out toxins; the mental: watching that smoking mirror of consciousness; the emotional: that release of what no longer serves us and finally, the spiritual: offering prayers in the form of sweat, songs and words as a community.

I cannot do the sweat lodge justice in describing the various symbolic meanings or the precise ritual.  These things are meant to be experienced rather than read about.  Each lodge can be different depending on who is running it and what tribe they belong to.  At best, I can merely describe my own experience and what it means to me.

I placed my medicine bag on the altar after being smudged with the sweet smoke of copal.  I humbled myself on my knees and pressed my forehead to the earth before entering.  “Ometeotl,” I whispered to the earth.  The lodge was shaped like a turtle – I crawled on hands and knees clockwise with respect to the fire pit in the center before reaching my spot.  Everyone else followed suit until we were a circle symbolizing that we were all equal once we entered the earth’s womb, the temazcal.

We welcomed hot stones warmed by the morning’s fire and were sealed in complete darkness.  We prayed as the water pourer made it hotter and the air thicker. 

It is in the darkness with the support of a spiritual community that I am able to enter a different state of consciousness.  The heat induces me to see my higher self more clearly as the physical, mental and emotional toxins release from my body. 

Every time I enter the sacred temazcal I feel as though I go in a dirty towel getting dipped in water and then wrung out.  I enter so that I may become emptier of negativity and old belief systems that no longer serve me to make room to learn new truths and save space for more love and joy throughout my mind, body and spirit. 

In this type of belief system we honor the earth.  We ask the earth for wisdom and pray for her healing.  We are able to see more clearly that the damage that is done to her is done to ourselves.  The damage we do to each other is harm done to ourselves.  We learn to be more conscious of ourselves and of our actions through the lodge. 

I leave you with a beautiful poem and apologies to my family for disappearing.  I’ll tell you where I’m going next time.  I promise.  J

 

Mastering Me

"If you want to learn something, read about it. If you want to understand something, write about it. If you want to master something, teach it.” 

– Yogi Bhajan

 “I practice [yoga] to deal with my own bullshit so that nobody else has to.”
 – Callie Munson, yoga instructor

Callie’s words resonated with me as I walked out of class last night.  In less than two weeks I start my yoga teacher training.  Much has been written about the benefits of yoga such as the meditative aspects to reduce stress or the physical fitness obtained from regular practice.  I come to yoga for those benefits too, but they aren’t what drive me to practice.

I keep coming back to the mat because I learn something new every time I’m on it.  I consider it a self study both physically and emotionally.  In the best of states, I am the quiet observer of my mind during a challenging pose; witnessing my thought processes as I struggle to hold a pose.  Am I kind to myself?  Am I playing a tape on loop that’s unkind to my body?  Am I a perfectionist?  Am I settling for less than the best? As I breathe deeper into the pose I ask myself: why?  Why am I unkind? Why am I rushing through the moment?  Why am I not fully present?  Why am I not giving myself this moment to be the best version of me through the struggle and the challenge?

My practice builds character.  It allows me a glimpse into my inner psyche so that I am armed with the knowledge to be a better person.  I practice to become a noble woman; one who takes responsibility for herself fully so that my issues don’t become someone else’s.  I practice to honor my divinity so to witness everyone else’s divinity with graciousness and humility.

Yoga challenges me to be accountable.  It pushes me to work harder to get past my ego.  It teaches me how to maintain tranquility in moments of calamity.  It shows me how to be grateful for the small things: your leg lifting a centimeter higher than it did the week before, holding the pose for eight breaths instead of six, or that cool breeze hitting your face as your sweat hits the mat.

My practice reminds me that my personal success doesn’t have to be measured in milestones, but rather in the day to day; like giving my lunch to the man I saw digging through the trash or not playing that same soundtrack in my head when things go wrong that is wrought with guilt and violence towards myself. 

I practice to have mastery over myself.

Namaste 

Freedom Prayer

Feel the itch to

Shed some old skin

Live in the transformation

Let the Serpent back in

Watch as it coils around you

Until you can’t breathe

Your bones begin to crack

While your gender, age, height, race…

Those defining characteristics

Begin to deconstruct as your body condenses

Wrapped in the coils tight

The Serpent then begs the question

Of your identity

Before swallowing you whole

You’d be surprised just how seductive

That kiss of death could be

It strikes at you quickly

Without warning

Leaving you forever changed

The old you was far too safe

Too boring

Death comes in to set you free

Pray.

I am not my body

I am not my past

I am not my religion

I am not my sex

I am not my eyes

I am not my university

I am not my career

I am not my family
I am not even my poetry

If you could only remember

Death sits behind your left shoulder

What’s worth fighting for?

What’s left to cling to?

Comes a time

That you just can’t carry it around anymore

I pray to the Crows

Scavengers of the sky

I offer my body

If only to free my soul

Open my pumping heart

Satisfy their thirst

I am but my Father’s daughter

Came into this world with no possessions

This is all I have to offer

Tired of clinging to a false sense of autonomy

Freedom is the unhinged and unsecured

A floating leaf; subject to God’s will

The Wind’s doing

I’d lay naked before Her

This is how I pray

Lay bare enticing the Serpents, Crows

And Wind to come to me

I smoke the tobacco for all my relations

The animals too

Om

Aho

Hallelujah

And if I could strip down

Be delivered an empty vessel

For Spirit to live through

I would

Surrender completely

And watch how the Serpent saves you

A transmutation of DNA

An evolution of grandiose proportions

Don’t let the fear of death hold you back

For self preservation means nothing

Compared to this final sacrifice

I will never be anything more;

Anything less;

Than this.

The Yoga Project: Calming the Monkey Mind

I was going strong having done yoga for 13 days straight but I was going crazy.  I hadn’t been able to see my boyfriend or friends for more than a week (and I live alone – so when I say going crazy, I mean it literally – all work and no play make Jen Jen cray cray).  I was getting home at 10 each night and leaving by 7:30 a.m.  I felt exhausted.

It dawned on me that the point of yoga isn’t to drain your vitality but rather to replenish it.  In conclusion, I’m planning on doing yoga as much as I can without burning out or losing the point of this exercise which was to integrate more yoga in my life and develop a regular practice.  That being said, I’m planning on practicing at least five times a week or so.

Now that the technicalities are out of the way, let’s get to what it’s been like on the mat for the past couple of weeks. 

I’m learning and relearning so many things like what it is to really breathe or how to sit up straight to remembering promises I made to myself as a child that are no longer useful to me.  Engaging in a yoga practice so aggressively (bet you never thought you’d hear yoga and aggressive in the same sentence, huh?) is no joke.  There are days where I just can’t get with it – the teacher says left and I go right, my downward dog looks like a pathetic panting puppy and I’m not feeling so zen towards my instructor. 

Then there are other days where practice seems to flow so gracefully.  I do a pose I’ve never been able to do before.  My breathing stays consistent with my movement and shivasana (corpse pose) feels as though I’ve entered into a magical realm between dreamscapes and reality while conscious.

Last night, I would not allow myself to enjoy my yoga class for whatever reason.  I was having a really off night.  During these off nights I feel as though I learn the most about myself and my old thought processes and patterns.  For instance, you decide you’re good at hip openers but bad at core work so you avoid the core work and at some point you realize that you are deciding it all and not allowing yourself to be open to the experience.  Instead of opening up, you then become your mother’s voice in your head telling yourself that everything you do sucks and that of course you’ll never get into the poses that the tiny girls right next to you get into and of course you’ll never be strong enough to sink that knee fully into Warrior pose then you REMEMBER.  You remember that you’re in control, and that you love yourself and your body and are thankful it can take your knees halfway in warrior and that you can get into that one bind that you couldn’t do last week. 

Yoga reminds me of Aztec danza – for every step to the right there is a step to the left and they call themselves warriors, not because they participate in bloodshed, but because they battle themselves in the danza.  I often feel as though I am battling my mind on the mat and I wonder: which half will win tonight?  The overly critical dark half that leaves me wounded and crying or the compassionate light half that allows me to feel the joy within my body and accepts me always as I am.

More to come on my yoga journey.

Namaste

The Yoga Project: The Beginning of my Destruction (Day 4)

Something happened to me in class tonight.  Yoga happened.  (dun dun dun – insert melodramatic orchestra here).

I left class crying and feeling defeated.  It will take more than a simple blog-post to fully comprehend what is happening to me.  I believe it's transformation.

The word “transformation” seems to be this ethereal new age term that cannot be explained in a pragmatic manner.  That is precisely how I feel about my strong emotional reaction to a physical practice.  Yoga is hard, much more difficult than many things that I’ve done and emotionally, I’ve barely scratched the surface.

There is a saying about destruction being necessary in order to rebuild (rebirth).  I believe I’m currently in the destructive phase right now.  I can only hope the plans I lay out after this phase are better than what I am currently in the process of destroying.

Through this I am realizing what yoga really is.  It is a challenging practice.  It is rigorous for your mind and body.  Yoga is a mindset, it is not a destination, it is not a competition, and it is far more than I understand right now.  It is powerful.

There’s something to be said about finding your breath through the discomfort of this process and being able to hold the pose.  I feel as though I am going to be here for a while. 

The Fast: Day 27; Here it comes: a better version of me

“So why are you doing this?”

I hear this question constantly.  I have so many answers I struggle with what to say first.  My usual quip that I’m sure people are tiring of is because I want to be like Jesus (Jesus fasted 40 days; Jen fasts 40 days), but jokes aside, Jesus has nothing to do with it.

I guess to explain fully I’ll have to go back to California in early April.  There, I experienced an “aha” moment.  I was travelling solo for a few days in Los Angeles and then later met up with my extended family and finally my parents.  I hadn’t seen my aunts in a year and a half and you couldn’t mask their reaction to me when they saw me. 

I didn’t feel well.  I was coming out of somewhat of a depression that I didn’t even know I was in from the year before.  No one said coming of age was going to be easy and I experienced some challenges that year.  My body reflected all of this.  How had it been in one year’s time I managed to gain a whopping 40 pounds?

As soon as I got back to Chicago, I started watching what I ate more closely and exercising regularly and by July I was down 20 pounds.  It was subtle and not dramatic but I felt better.  

Then in August, my coworker popped into my office to ask if I had heard of the Master Cleanse before because she was on her seventh day.  I couldn’t believe it – I had not even noticed (and we have a tiny office).  I had just watched this documentary about juice fasting and considered it a sign that it was time to get back into it.

So why fast?  Most people who know me (and those of you who have followed this blog religiously) know that I’m a very adventurous young woman; from backpacking solo adventures to living with wolves.  The same thing that draws me to do these things is what draws me to unconventional paths to self discovery.

I absolutely loathe stagnation.  I need to constantly challenge myself and put myself in uncomfortable situations to learn and grow.  I’d say abstaining from food and alcohol for a 20-something social butterfly is pretty damn uncomfortable (thank God men are not on that list).

Yes, it’s hard.  Someone told me once that there’s no point in doing anything unless it’s hard because it’s the challenge that forces you to grow and furthermore no one ever achieved anything without sacrifice.

Mountains in Oaxaca, Mexico.  I miss you.

I mentioned in an earlier blog that I couldn’t escape to the mountains of Mexico and meditate in a cave for three days so instead I’m fasting.  In the past 27 days the things I’ve learned from doing this are astounding.  I feel like a different person and I still have 13 magical more days to go.  I can say that sometimes I wake up (super energized and happy of course) and think that 40 days is too little – that I should go longer because I feel so good.  Maybe I will.

You’ll have to wait for the next blogs to learn about those discoveries and changes, but I can tell you that the Jen that was 27 days ago is no longer.  In the words of Fiona Apple: “Here comes a better version of me.”

xoxoxo

Jesus Saves; I Spend

Why did I pack so much stuff?  I always pack way too much, I think to myself trying to squeeze into my window seat with my overstuffed purse.

“Hi.” A tall guy says to me as he squeezes into the seat next to me, his knees extending into the aisle.  “They don’t build these planes for 6’5 men I guess.” He chuckles.

There are four hours between O’Hare International Airport and Los Angeles International Airport.  He seems friendly, and now examining his features, the light brown hair and freckles dotting his face with intense blue eyes, I think, maybe not such bad company…

“I’m Drew.” He extends his hand. 

Drew grew up not far from Chicago in a nearby suburb.  He completed his undergrad at Northern Illinois University and continues graduate studies in meteorology at Brigham Young University in Utah. 

“So you want to be a weather man?” I ask, smiling.  “No, I want to predict commodities for natural gas companies and stakeholders, that’s where the money is.” He replied.  I like him more already.

We get to talking.  He explains how the pilot is wrong in saying that it won’t be raining in Los Angeles when we land and he bets that it will.  We talk about the differences in cloud formations and he draws pictures in my journal depicting the mountain shade effect.  “Mountains are always greener with more vegetation on the western side because the moisture rises from the west.  That’s the direction weather travels, generally leaving the east side of the mountain a lot drier…” 

At this point, I don’t think I’ve ever been so fascinated by weather.

He tells me he used to play volleyball in school before deciding on a career in meteorology.  I glance at his strong long arms.  “When I was younger I was always so fascinated by the weather.  I would stare out the window during thunderstorms constantly, hoping to catch a few glimpses of lightening.”

Everything is going so well with this conversation.  It flows very naturally with no awkward pauses nor is there overexcited chatter about nothing to fill space.  Drew is very easy to talk to and also very easy to listen to.  I relax into my seat.

Then it happens.  He mentions something about a mission trip to Virginia.  “Oh, what were you on a mission trip for?” 

“My church was engaging various people about their relationship with Jesus.” Oh no.  He’s one of them! I grimace, what a waste. 

He asks me if I know Jesus or have a relationship with the guy.  I tell him I’ve seen him around, mainly tattooed on people’s arms or on gold chains around people’s necks.  It’s my last attempt to keep the conversation light. 

Before he starts to tell me about the late great savior of mankind I tell him I have my own personal spirituality.  We begin to define Christianity and Buddhism; examine Islam and finally he asks what I believe.  I explain very patiently that my beliefs don’t have a name; they simply are.  All influenced by my experiences.  I tell him about my boyfriends in college during my exploratory years.  I dated a Buddhist once, then a Shaman.  I learned to meditate and then I learned to see. 

I remained alone exploring for many years.  In the caves of Mexico and pyramids; in sweat lodges; living amongst wolves.  Yes, I too, dedicated my time and energy to a greater energy.  Its name was not Jesus but there was something, partially within myself and partially in everything else around me contributing to anything that was created: the beauty and horrors.  I don’t pretend to live in a perfect world and we are a complex race full of dualities.  Still, when I looked around I liked to think that God was in the sunset, we both agreed on that.  God was in the mountains.  To me, God is a smile too.  We all see glimpses of this God everyday if we pay attention.

I found him to be charmingly curious and interested in all the stones I had to throw at the holes in Christianity.  He was anxious to fill them with quotes from the Bible, historical facts and other tricks in his Jesus-mongering hat.  I was still slightly charmed watching his blue eyes and the golden ring he had that bordered his pupil.

“So would you agree that the world’s religions like Buddhism, Judaism, Islam and Christianity all have their finger on the elephant (elephant in this case being a metaphor for God) but maybe Islam has it’s finger on the trunk of the elephant and maybe Christianity has its finger on the husks of the elephant and perhaps Buddhism rides on the powerful legs of the elephant. “

“I would agree with that…” I said after pausing to think for a few minutes.  “Would you?” I said looking surprised.

“No in Christianity, we believe that Jesus is the only way to the elephant.” 

“I see….” I say.  He begins some chatter about how socially he doesn’t just hang out with Christians but he’s a rather very inclusive person. 

“So regardless of whether or not I’m a good person who cares about this earth and its inhabitants, I’m going to Hell?” I ask, getting to the point.

“As a Christian, without Jesus, you won’t be saved.” He replies.

He tries to change the subject and I glare out the window.  I’m not upset; it just seems as though the common ground we walked along during the conversation has converted to two very distinct paths that are clearly marked with each of our names on it. 

We land and he throws his head onto my shoulder flirtatiously.  I look into his gorgeous eyes.

“Guess it sucks I’m going to Hell, huh?”  

Hypnosis in Calakmul

I wrote this when I was in an enlightened (the only way I can describe how I felt) state on top of Calakmul's 2nd largest pyramid.  Calakmul is a huge Mayan site located in the Calakmul Biosphere Reserve in Campeche, Mexico.  The depiction below describes me in a state that I wish I could be in forever.  Time stood still, I felt as though I belonged to that place in that moment.  If the writing lacks description it's because the noise in my mind had silenced.  I needed to write this today to remember what it felt like.

The air tastes sweet - the smell of sweet Jasmine flowers perfumes the air.  I feel like I could stay up here all day - so in peace.  Maybe it's the hike it took to get up here or maybe it's the quiet and only the sound of birds and leaves rustling.  I'm in a hypnotic state almost so blissfully peaceful.  No body part bothers me; not even the toe that I broke or the blister on my right pinky toe.  Not even my legs that were sore from yesterday's hike; not even my back from hauling my 40 pound backpack in and out, up and down, out and around.


I feel as though each time the wind blows she's a hypnotist snapping her fingers and saying "deeper!"  I don't mind the ants crawling all over my body, nor do I mean being left here alone.  I take a breath and all the trees appear a lusher green than I had see before.  Colors dance before me and "deeper!" the wind blows once more.

More about Calakmul here.

Asking, Receiving, Appreciating

It is my first day back in Chicago.  Apparently we are bracing ourselves here for the worst blizzard since 1967.  What a nice welcome home!

There are so many stories from Mexico yet to be written on this blog regarding lessons learned, people met and places seen. 

I want to take today to be grateful for having the opportunity to have this journey and thank all of those who read about my adventures along the way for reading and fueling my desire to document my adventures.  The following are moments I had that prove the Universe listens and sometimes really helps you out.  It is my form of saying thank you to everyone who helped me out along the way.

1. I don't have enough money for the cab to the airport. It was 3:30a.m.  My flight was at 6a.m. to Chicago.  I had checked into this hole in the wall hostel just to have a bed to sleep in for a few hours instead of spending the night at the airport.  I had planned on taking a public bus to the airport which would cost $40 pesos.  I had budgeted the last of my pesos for the ride.  I forgot to think about the fact that I'd have to leave so early.  This was Mexico, not Chicago and public transportation isn't 24 hours.  A cab would run me $200 pesos.  I am in the hostel lobby trying to figure out if there is an open ATM around here when the owner of the hostel who I had told of my dilemma hands me another $100 pesos (I had $100 myself).  It was such a random act of kindness that I was truly touched by it.

2. It's our treat.  Along the way on my travels I was treated by family, new friends and random strangers I had just met to a plethora of food, places to stay, water and drinks.  Americans have this idea that they are Mr./Mrs. Money when they travel to Mexico.  You should see them.  They travel with their secret money pouches they wear under their clothes, they are weary and suspicious of the local people or of the cost of things.  They are incredulous sometimes and think everyone is a thief or scam artist trying to get their precious dollars.  I let some new local friends buy me a beer or my lunch.  It wasn't about money, it was about humility in a strange way.  To be able to share your culture and home with someone else is a beautiful thing.  Thank you to everyone who offered anything to me on the journey.

3. Just ask the universe! "I am exhausted, it's getting late. We should leave here.  My legs feel like jelly after climbing so many pyramids." I say to Gibran.  "Me too.  I feel so hot too.  It's so sticky, I wish it would rain." He replies.  Just then, as though Gibran had commanded the sky, we feel rain drops on our sticky skin. 

"Man, I want to leave because I'm tired but only regret not being able to see any monkeys."  As though I had commanded Mother Earth, we heard a rustling in the leaves.  "Oh my God!  Look they are spider monkeys!!"

The rest of the day Gibran and I practiced with the universe.  In Mexico there aren't as many gas stations and seeing as we were in the middle of the jungle and almost out of gas we did a lot of praying to the universe that we would make it out to the next town two hours away.  Miraculously we did.

There were quite a few more close calls like this dealing with making my bus when running really late or being able to stay at a hostel or hotel that is nearly sold out.

4. Thank you!  When you are in desperation, wondering if your car will make it out of the jungle or if you will make your next bus to the next town so you can meet up with someone it's very easy to remember to pray to God, Buddha, Shiva, Jesus or whoever you pray to. It's a slightly different story when you are sitting in paradise without a care in the world.  I was grateful to the Universe often and powers that be for allowing me the special moments I had with people, animals, nature and myself during this trip.  I made sure to be gracious and humble in the most awe inspiring moments as well as the scariest moments (which weren't that many).  The Universe/Powers that be/God responded very well and took really good care of me abroad.  I am thankful for this as well.