Trusting Ourselves

I shifted into park and looked around. No one else on this shady side street between two relatively vacant lots. I wondered why. The other streets were packed making this empty one lonely. I searched for no parking signs, yellow paint on a non-existent curb. I found none, so congratulated myself, took the key and got out.

As I stepped from the car, a scruffy, broken booted man walked into the intersection to see who I was. His hair was tousled and when I said buenas tardes, he nodded and his half smile showed only a few teeth. “Think it’s ok to park here?” I asked. He nodded and told me “si, you’re fine.” I felt better and walked to the café for breakfast before going back to work.

But I shook my head and wondered why the testimony of a guy who looked like he’s probably never owned or even parked a car gave me such comfort? And I realized over coffee and eggs how deeply my social conditioning ran. Not for judging him by his appearance, but for not trusting myself to know that people didn’t park on that street because it was farther away. Maybe they’re afraid of side streets. That’s their social conditioning. Mine is to trust a man. I’ve been trained, regardless of life proof to the contrary, that men know better. Especially when it comes to parking or moving or other manly endeavors.

So many reasons for this. But it begs the question, how do we shift to trusting ourselves? If experience doesn’t work, how do we get back to trusting us? If all my degrees and studies don’t help me feel confident that I at least know where to park, how will I ever get there? We’ve all made mistakes and poor choices. That doesn’t mean we have to continue. And it certainly doesn’t mean we have to trust someone else to make choices for us.

Pema Chodrun talks about shenpa, the thought pattern, mostly negative, that works its way into your mind so that you follow it and act on it habitually. Her experience shows it’s something you can let go of with practice. Yoga and meditation work into those places where you doubt yourself. These practices let you open up to your own inner wisdom. It’s about catching yourself, waiting until you have a look and assess what works best for you. In my example, it’s catching myself before I ask for outward validation, letting buenas tardes be enough.

The power of pause, cultivating acceptance of negative thought patterns and what Pema calls, “less noble” human traits, are ways to unravel feelings of self distrust and negativity. Take a moment to pause right now. Take 9 deep breaths. Notice your shoulders relax and your jaw soften and ask yourself what you might instead ask a toothless, ragged man. Listen to the answer and remind yourself: you know.

We’ll practice asking those questions, feeling into them and listening to ourselves in our Yoga and Writing retreat, March 13 to 18, 2025. Join us to practice going deeply into the realm of self acceptance and trust. We’ll explore the stories we are and the ones we tell ourselves with yoga, writing, some fairy tales and magic. Join us March 13 to 18 at Tribal Tulum, Tulum, Mexico.

Be the Rainbow

I rode my bike past workers rolling warm tortillas around eggs, lathering them with salsa and pushing them into their mouths mid sentence as they stood on the corner waiting for cement block to arrive. I called, “Buen provecho”. A chorus of gracias followed as I pedaled toward a young woman walking towards me. I called, “Buenos días”. “Buen día” she replied, lifting her head and smiling.

It’s nice to be acknowledged. Here in Mexico, we do it a lot. And it changes everything about the moment: makes you smile, lifts your spirits, lets you see a different side of people, generally the smiley side. It gives you this feeling that everything’s ok and that you matter.

If you’ve ever spent much time alone, or especially travelled alone, you may have felt lonely at some point. It happens. We feel a little invisible or small. But when you settle into the grocery store line or your seat on the bus and someone acknowledges your mere presence, it feels better.

Maya Angelou said, "Be the rainbow in someone’s day.” It’s not so difficult to do. All you have to do is perhaps say, “Buen provecho.” Try it – once or twice in your day, say hello to someone you don’t know. You can be selective but make eye contact and say hi. Or good morning, or good afternoon. Or buen provecho.

 They might just smile back. You might just create a connection. And that might make all the difference to you and the other person.

Why live a creative life anyway?

Because that’s where we find our bliss. And you don’t need to be Picasso to make your life creative. You only need to give yourself permission.

Permission to wear purple and red. Permission to add that touch of cinnamon or chocolate to your coffee. Permission to dye those stained white towels Caribbean blue.

We are creative beings. But most of us have beaten our creative urges into the dark spaces of our bodies and souls. That inner critic who says your ideas are crap, that inner coach who says you’ll never make the majors, that trusted figure who tells you artists starve, they all tried to beat the artist into submission.

But that doesn’t happen. The artist in you just goes deeper inside and is hanging out there, perhaps enjoying the downtime, preparing ideas to burst to the surface in what might seem awkward moments since you’ve not been listening. That urge to paint one wall a different color. The moment you burst into dance on the subway. The skip in your step to the music in the park. Right? That time you bought those floral pants. Or that one coffee cup that doesn’t match anything but makes you smile.

“But it doesn’t go,” or “they’ll think I’m weird,” you tell yourself and put on the solid grays and grab the cup that matched the white plates. And the inner artist, buried deep inside, gives you the finger and waits for the next opportunity to inspire you.

Let’s set the inner artist free. Our yoga and writing retreat March 13 to 18 will coax our inner artist to the surface. Yoga frees the tight bonds that hold the creative spirit in check. Writing helps you express those ideas: off the mind, on the paper. Take 5 nights and 6 days to work deeply into the crevices where we’ve stashed our muse and gently draw him/her/them out. We’ll learn to write about normal things in a very creative way and we’ll see the artist in the every day. We’ll even publish an anthology of our work.

Join author and publisher Bathsheba Monk, Iyengar yoga teacher and writer Lisa Towson and me, Joanne Fanny Barry, entrepreneur, author and yoga teacher for an amazing 5 night 6 day retreat at Tribal Tulum in Tulum, Mexico. Why not live a more creative life? Set yourself free.

Contact me for details, itinerary and pricing soon as space is limited.

In Between

Let’s talk about the “in between” time from Christmas to New Year to even January 6th. It’s a time of non-productivity that can be uncomfortable. You don’t get sooooo much accomplished. You miss your workouts. You miss your deadlines, literally and figuratively. You miss your creative projects, your meditations, your healthy meals, your good night’s sleep. And that feels weird.

Everything shifts as we move through the holidays. We’re forced to live in the spaces in between. It’s challenging for anyone who likes routine and feeling they’re moving forward every day with something to work on, something to focus on, a space to plan a creative outlet like creating a story and making it marvelous.

 Perhaps you’ve had that experience too?

“Each inhale is a birth, each exhale a death,” says Thich Nhat Hanh. I add, “we live in the spaces in between”. So here I sit as the sun is just peeking over the horizon wishing I were working on Eco Woman’s next big adventure. But I’m in the space in between so I’ll feel the discomfort and let it go. Sit with coffee in the morning and journal, or doodle or simply be with the warm cup in my hand and notice. I’ll notice and trust the process. It’s my only way out of that unnerving feeling that there’s nothing left to do. I’ll trust that I’ll sell a load of books, that I’ll market it well, that my retreat will sell out and I will get the chance to move into my next project: Eco Woman 3. I’ll trust I’ll take the right steps after this in between time and I’ll let myself enjoy it knowing that the in-between times are more worthwhile than you think. Let them guide you to noticing where to go next.

And look for my books, Eco Woman: Transformation and Initiation on Amazon.

Save the date for my Yoga and Writing Retreat at Tribal Tulum, March 13 to 18.

Join me for Yin Yoga here Sundays at 10am and other classes as I announce them on instagram.

And finally, keep Christmas going in your life like the Whos down in Who-ville, singing, holding hands, loving and caring for each other for the whole year regardless what comes down the chimney into those spaces in between. Let yourself live there.

Small Change

We all want to change the world, right?

But we often forget that we have the power. We use it every day: small changes, communicated subtly or not so subtly, change the world.

Case in point. About two months ago, I started going out for coffee in the morning. Living where you work can be overwhelming. And there’s a very nice coffee truck one city block away.

The first time I went, they served me coffee in a paper cup and offered me a plastic lid. There were two things to change. First, do we really need everything in takeaway? And second, I took a seat and asked for a porcelain cup. “We only have these,” the barista humbly told me.

“Just please don’t give me the lid.”

I sat, journaled, escaped and enjoyed the coffee. Leaving, I asked if I could bring my own mug next time, so I didn’t have to drink from a paper cup. “I hate generating more trash,” I confided. “Come back and I’ll find you a real cup,” he guaranteed me.

So I did. And there it was. This amazing green mug filled with coffee that tastes better because of it. And it makes me feel very special (note to people in customer service) and I’m changing the world. You laugh perhaps and yes, I know my one mug will barely make a dent in the trash overload we’re experiencing. But my shift of consciousness has already started a ripple that affects others.

People notice my mug. And someday will question their take away and disposable mentality. Some may even ask for a porcelain mug themselves. The owner may decide that it’s a good idea and perhaps they’ll stop the disposable mugs altogether. Ripple.

If I change from paper to porcelain even ¼ of the year, that’s more than 90 cups saved from landfills. And although less than a tree’s worth of paper, my attitude can save forests. That one spared tree certainly notices. My attitude and my willingness to act on it can shift people. Shifting how people think changes the world.

Make small change. Change the world.

Today is our 9th anniversary at Tribal Tulum! 9 years strong. We’ll do a yoga mala at 5 pm - join us if you like. Move energy toward the light on this day when darkness reigns.

And if it seems the darkness is too much for you these days - and it sometimes feels that way - escape into fiction with Eco Woman, the first: Transformation and the second: Initiation are both available on Amazon.

If you’ve already read her adventures, please let me know what you think and leave a review so others know too.

Happy Anniversary to Tribal. Happy Holidays to all of you.

Eco Woman Launches a Second Adventure!

I launched another book!

We had a book launch December 1st. If you were there let me know what you thought. I thought it was fun. My publisher and editor were there. Friends came virtually and in person. I got to be the center of attention. They sat and actually listened to me read my book, my art! Check it out. And then they asked questions about my life and my opinions. It doesn’t get better than that.

 We discussed about the novel series, Eco Woman, and in particular the second in the series. It’s called Initiation. It’s a wonderful story about the superheroine’s continued battle to find herself, her ancestry and to own her power to save what she can on the planet. It’s a great escape at a time when we can all use a little positive distraction. She gives us hope and although some people say hope is a set up, I believe it spurs people to action.

This story moves Maeve from the hills of upstate New York and the cliffs of the Pallisades down the Hudson River and into the Atlantic. It introduces a few new witches and warlocks, all of whom meditate by the way, and connects with some amazing creatures. Her battle for the Light continues and she discovers that things are not always how they seem.

We discussed characters, especially our superheroine, Maeve and how they were born. But we also talked about science. Particularly PCB’s – poly carbonate byphenals – from the first Eco Woman adventure and then we dove into fish farming and human trafficking, pollution and finally landed on the dock of community concluding that’s the only way to solve problems. Start the discussion. Eco Woman starts people thinking about the things that affect us right now. And Maeve helps us know that we can fix things and she lets us believe it, we can.

A wonderful part was we discussed the upcoming March retreat focused on yoga and creativity, specifically writing but opening the body and spirit to the creative process. Attendees have an offer of an amazing 50% off but we’ll be running an early bird special soon. Stay tuned and make sure to follow on instagram @fanny_barry.

Read the books, share a review! Let Eco Woman spur you to make small changes that can change the world. We’ve begun the discussion, let it spur you to action.

Walking the Walk

The police office pulled up beside me and motioned to put the phone down. I stopped recording the message and tossed the phone to the passenger seat, blushing. Busted. Then he motioned for me to pull over.

 “Shit,” I mumbled under my breath as I pulled the Nissan pickup to the side of the road and waited. I’d been messaging my worker that I was on my way and to please wait. Now I’d be really late. My dad’s voice reminded me, “Well, now you’ll have a good excuse.”

“I live in Mexico now, Dad, I don’t need a good excuse to be late,” I answered him.

 The officer came to the door, offered his hand and told me what I already knew. I defended myself.

 It was just one time.

 No. I watched you send 3 voice messages.

 He was right But the first one I deleted. Does that count for anything? After all, I told him, I was going to meet a worker who was repairing my house after two robberies left me feeling super vulnerable. “and I’m frantic after all, I’ve been robbed.“ I neglected to tell him it was two weeks ago but it had taken me that long to find someone to help me put bars on the windows.

Could he come help me catch the thieves?

 “I’m not in that part of policing. license and tarjeta de circulacion porfavor.

 He looked them both over and asked me what I do. I felt weird telling him a run a yoga studio since I was not at all yogicly peaceful. I was having a busy morning, trying to fit too much into my day. Now I’d had the brakes slammed on and I was worming my way out of it, or at least trying to, with half truths. I was justified. I’d been robbed twice, I told myself. And I would love for him to come help me since I felt totally abandoned. The police? Buy cameras, get a dog (I have dogs), we’ll drive by but you’re on a dead end road. Friends? What did you expect with an empty house? Platitudes and my insecurities mounted as did the cost of not only what they had taken but any and all measures to make my place feel safer. 

 “I’m going to take your license and give you an infraction.”

 Add another 200 USD for the ticket. “Please don’t. It’s been the worst low season ever and today is payday. I really can’t pay. ” I whined while calculating the 50% discount the city offered if you pay the same day. I could do it on a credit card.

“Isn’t there some other way. I know I was wrong and I won’t do it again.”

 “Do you have another idea?” His gaze burning into me through his sunglasses, hinting at a bribe. He made some conversation to let me think about it and asked where I was from.

 I stuttered calculating how much cash I had. “I’ve been here 20 years. “

 “Yes. But where are you from?”

 “The US”

 “Isn’t it illegal to be on your phone while driving in the US?

 “Texting. I wasn’t texting. I was recording a message. That’s different.”

He waited and I thought, how much will he settle for? And how can I take money from my fanny pack without him seeing that I have a lot of cash on hand. Like I said, its payday.

 Then I remembered one of many conversations focused on ending corruption. That voice in my head quoted me saying to someone, “If we don’t participate, there won’t be corruption. It starts with all of us.”

 Damn. It starts with me and I meekly told the officer, “You are right. I was wrong. Es cierto.”

 I don’t think he was happy about it but he was surprised, perhaps even a little satisfied. I looked at the floor and felt the sweat dripping off my upper lip. I reached for a Kleenex from the dash and wiped my lip and my eyes, wondering if he’d think I was crying. Ready for the ticket, I plotted a course to rush to the house and rush back to the police station so I could get my discount.

 Out of the blue he told me, “I’ll let it go this time. But if I see you do it again, the ticket will be double.” He handed me my license and registration.

 Seriously? I barely believed it but took my things and said, “Gracias,” and waited for him to drive away. Then I smiled. Ear to ear as I drove slowly back onto the highway saying, “Thanks.” I felt good, like I’d made a breakthrough. See, it’s so easy to say something, to be righteous and tell others what to do. But to actually walk the walk takes a little courage and the willingness to pay the price. And I did it. I told the truth and faced the consequences. It would have felt ok if I’d had a ticket but it felt amazing since I didn’t.

 And, needless to say, I’ll leave my phone in my bag on the way home.

Yoga and Creativity

Yoga’s become a loaded word, right? It means so many different things to so many different people. From a workout to a way to orgasm, it’s taken on a life of it’s own. It used to be something people did in pyjamas to start their day. Now its become a multimillion dollar business that promises enlightenment through a nice tight butt. 

What the heck happened?

 We forgot. Yoga is not about distinguishing yourself from the beauties around you. It’s about bringing all that beauty into you, making it all a part of you and recognizing your neighbor in yourself. 

 We’ve forgotten that it’s not about doing the pose better. It’s about feeling better in the pose. We stopped reminding ourselves and each other that t’s not about getting your heart rate up as you race through a practice. It’s about feeling relaxed and steady in a demanding practice so that you can be relaxed and steady as you move into the more demanding postures of your life.

 So yoga is about you and the collective us. When we allow the insecurities that follow us around in our personal world to drop away as we practice, we discover an openness of spirit that brings us into our divinity. Sounds like a lot right?

But it’s not really. It’s merely who you are and who you are meant to be. And when you can take even a few moments, even a yoga class to realize that, you touch your creative center and the ideas start to flow.

 Next time you sit down on your mat, let your life off the mat fade. Arrive fully. Stay present and let your practice help you discover a connection to yourself that takes you to that creative spirit inside.

 The very willingness to let go of the barriers around the universal experience of being present will open your mind to new, exciting creative ideas. Slowly, we’ll stop judging ourselves so harshly, release stored tension, trauma and negativity, and move into our creative genius and capability. That’s the practice. Through movement, presence and stillness, we allow ourselves to open the vastness of our subconscious creative mind. The ideas that have been waiting to blossom, can freely open and flower. 

So does yoga help you become a creative spirit? I say yes. Hell yes. Yoga allows you to be you.

20 Years Down the Road

In June I celebrated 20 years in Tulum. Crazy right? How’d I do that in a culture that is so mobile, so young, so ever changing.

It was never my plan, never in my wildest dreams (and I’ve had some pretty wild dreams) did I see myself staying here. But it’s been those wild dreams and making them come true that kept me coming back.

“You must have seen lots of changes,” people say when I tell them I arrived in 2004.

“It's been like living in quicksand,” I’ll tell them frankly and remember the dirt road to the now Hotel Zone, how I knew every person in town, yes town not city. I’ll think about the blue crabs that used to flood the streets and my yard on the full moon that have now become so scarce. And I remember watching turtles lay eggs and then hatch on deserted stretches of beach. I push the memories of development, narcos and murders from my mind since that’s not good for business and only tell them, “yes, lots of changes.”

 Others ask incredulously, “You’ve been here all that time? Summertime too?”

I nod, “Pretty much.” I look back on some amazing road trips to escape the hurricanes and the long days of summer when I lived with no electricity. I’d sleep with a towel under me and when it got too brutal, run across the road to the sea and jump in. More afraid of a person than sharks, I’d run back home refreshed and sleep til sunrise. As I got more courageous, I even slept on the beach under the blanket of stars with the beach dog who slept by me.

 And then I look around at what Tulum is today and I ask myself why I’ve stayed too.

Well, first, Tulum is magic. Don’t let anyone tell you it isn’t. If they do, take them biking to the beach for sunrise or on a boat into the biosphere or on a walk through town to buy trinkets from a 5 year old or a cold pressed juice from an Australian or to dance in the park on a Tuesday night with a mermaid.

There’s still magic here.

Second, the animals here are crazy amazing. Mine all came to me of their own accord and I’ve loved rescuing them. Animals are so much easier than humans. I leave that to my yoga classes. These recovering strays give me love and a satisfaction that’s been hard to replicate in my same species relationships.

Third, I’ve put down shallow roots here. I’ve an amazing yoga studio that I built here called Tribal Tulum. I practice in that world class space each day, feeling the wood floors, the natural air and light, the crazy dream catching curtains I inherited from my Mom. And I get to teach yoga here and work with other teachers who have so much to offer. The studio is my dharma, as much as writing or swimming or patting my dogs and cats. So when I walk in and then share it with like minded people, the magic amplifies and keeps me close.

Four, I meet so many cool people. It’s inspiring watching other people make their dreams come true. Some fail. Many succeed. But they all make it a great place to try. I love when I ride my bike around town and notice that there’s a new food stall, amazing hand made jewelry, repurposed clothing or artisanal tamales that someone has put their heart and soul into.

Five, I transform worthy people’s lives. That sounds a bit arrogant, full of hubris perhap. But its true. So i’ll say it. In the 20 years I’ve been here, I’ve inspired people in so many ways. I’m not sure I could have done that in my former career as an environmental engineer. Since my non-profit for women with breast cancer to the architect of my Robinson Crusoe Jungle Beach Houses, through my days as a migrant yoga teacher, the manager of a boutique hotel, and now as a business owner and yoga retreat hostess, I get to open people’s eyes to magic and miracles just by encouraging them to notice.

On so many occasions, I can take their hand, point to something, tell them a bit about it and watch their jaws drop. It could be something about themselves in a yoga class, or something about Mayan mysticism or something about nature, my crazy domestic animals or our natural resources like electricity and water. But those tidbits of information make people see the magic in themselves as they see it in Tulum. That buzz has kept me here for 20 years.

So whether you’re coming here for a vacation, to test the waters of Mexican living or to retreat with us into yoga and meditation and realize your full potential for happiness, watch out. You may just find yourself coming back, time and time again. And then 20 years might pass and, like me, you’ll be so grateful for the magic life has shared.

Thinking of St. Pat

“You’re just another fockin’ Yank then, aren’t you?”

 After hours, curtains closed, air thick with cigarette smoke in a small village pub north of Galway, he continued. “I mean, it’s not like you even know your ancestors here or anything. Look at ye, nearly 30 and it’s the first time you’ve been back.”

 “I guess you’re right.” I told him, hoping it would end the conversation.

 Admittedly, I didn’t know Irish history well. Sure, I knew the Irish heroes like Michael Connelly and all about bloody Sunday, mostly thanks to the band U2. Yes, I was another Yank. But one with Irish heritage. That made it different. I moved to the bar before he could say more.

 My friend Helen had invited me to join her family in Galway for Christmas. I could be with people I loved. “C’mon,” she coaxed over the phone, “It’ll be great crack and you should come to Ireland regardless.” I’d been working abroad but had neglected to consider the isolation and homesickness, especially over the holidays. Things weren’t going as I’d planned in Germany and she was right. It would be the first trip to my ancestral home.

 My parents never spoke much about our roots. In fact, my father always said, “I am so happy my grandparents caught that boat.” And that was it. We never discussed who was left behind or why they all left. At the time, the U.S. was the land of opportunity. Ireland was suffering and in the midst of civil war, or “troubles” as people diminutively called a war that officially lasted nearly 30 years. 

 No one talked much about the past, regardless of how they had suffered as immigrants and struggled to make a new life in the US. Perhaps it was how they could forget the difficulties and heartache. Like my Aunt Mary who at 10 years old took over on the farm when her mother died in childbirth. My mother shrugged to explain how a 10 year old could take over the family business. “You’d be surprised what you can do when you have to. She was smart.” Those words have echoed in my mind on so many occasions. But in my 40’s, not at 10.  There were so many tragedies that we rarely talked about “home”. That may have cut too deep.

 But in community, we talked about Ireland. At Sunday mass there were collections for Irish Charities. The priest would ask us to support families back “home”. We celebrated Irish saints, especially St. Patrick. In my borough of Boston, West Roxbury, we were “Lace Curtain Irish” - well enough off to have a single family home. We were always reminded that we should give a hand to those less fortunate. “Don’t forget where you’re from,” the priest would counsel and caution, “Don’t get full of yourself. You can easily fall back.” When JFK was elected president we believed we were the backbone of the country: strong, educated, conscious Irish Americans. When he was assassinated, the priests words echoed in all of our minds. “They’ll help you to the curb if you’re laying in the road,” my dad had told us, “But God forbid you climb up onto the sidewalk.”

 So when nearly 40 years later I decided to write about an Irish American heroine in my first novel, Eco Woman: The Transformation, I was excited but nervous. The moment I named her Maeve for Maeve the Brave, queen of the Connacht in the Ulster Cycle of Irish Mythology, I somehow felt connected. Maeve, in Irish spelled Méibh, was a strong willed, ambitious and promiscuous queen who fought with her men. Some say she’s the manifestation of the sovereign goddess. Who wouldn’t love her? I had only just visited the north of Ireland while writing the novel and when Helen showed me her burial site high on a stone cairn on the summit of Knocknarea in County Sligo, I knew she was my heroine. She was amazing. She was my ancestor, the one who’d travelled in the coffin ships to find a new land. The one who’d survived hunger and discrimination and had risen to find a place in the white house.  

 And although I knew our ancestors were from the south of Ireland, not the north, I chose her anyway: Maeve the brave. Regardless of my fears of cultural appropriation and calling out from family and friends, I made her as big as Queen Maeve, buried upright and facing her enemies.

 When the publisher told me Eco Woman was out, I took a deep breath in. If I’d been laying in the road and had been helped to the curb, Eco Woman was my way onto the sidewalk. Here I was, getting a little full of myself. I stood tall, ready for the critics, ready for the fight. I had published books before and it’s not all parties and positive reviews. The negative ones hurt. I still had people who didn’t talk to me from my memoir, published 7 years ago - immigrants hold onto perceived slights. I still had to work on the shame that I described in that book and few people had held my hand to say, “It’s ok.” Immigrants don’t talk about the hardships, you see. They get on with things.

 So, yes. I am just another Yank. But I have Irish heritage and that gives me permission to dig into it, to revel in where I’m from, to overcome the prejudice, the criticism, the sense of not belonging and to discover my ancestors. In that discovery, we will find our heroines and heroes. And we’ll find that the similarities among all our cultures point to the fact that we’re all from the same place. Our roots are not shallow. They run deep and point us to a collective heritage that could be unifying if we let it. Climb up onto the sidewalk and find your Eco Woman.