The worst floods to hit Peru in over 30 years left everyone stranded. A gratitude practice showed me just how lucky I was in the midst of disaster.
“No, there are no buses leaving for days,” the young man said for the fifth time. The worst floods to hit Northern Peru in 30 years had washed out the highways. Everyone was stuck.
Although the streets were drowning, the hostel and city had no water. It was all contaminated and the systems overwhelmed.
“Water water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.”
This is what happens when you make plans, I thought. I had to be on a flight to the tip of Patagonia in four days.
I had a choice to make: How would I experience today?
Let it flow
Tired, sweating with no showers in 40 degree humidity, thirsty, stuck in an airport town, and facing an expensive flight fee — I wasn’t feeling the best.
The reaction began: self blame, stressing out, and overthinking everything. I was grasping to find some personal control in the situation.
The problem was that all of these things were out of my control. But, one thing wasn’t — my ability to choose.
I’d read somewhere that:
Gratitude alone won’t change a problem, but it can change your well-being. Then, you tackle it from a better place.
Out of control
I wrote a list of how lucky I was to even be able to travel: to have the health, nationality, savings, and support of my loved ones.
None of those things were in my control either. A small change in one of them and I wouldn’t be here.
I felt a bit embarrassed by my initial selfishness. I recognised it as a human tendency and felt grateful it was something I was actively working on.
I stepped away from guilt or shame, and looked outside myself.
My problems were difficult for me but, in context, also not unbearable. Families had lost their homes or loved ones in Peru.
My heart felt for them, I wanted to help.
I felt grateful when I had the opportunity to be there for the hostel owner. I listened to his struggles and helped him figure out a plan to help his family.
I felt grateful that people were coming together to help one another.
The military was arranging free flights to help people reach their loved ones in the big city.
Alone together
I felt grateful for not being alone. Thanks to the flood, the group of us marooned at the hostel had become a family.
We laughed at the irony that our hostel room had a “Singing in the Rain” Broadway show poster.
“Wanna go to the mall?” A fellow stranded traveller asked.
Normally, I’m not a mall person. Yet with no other options, “Sure, why not?”
This brand new mall had food, water, and blissful air conditioning. It might be the only thing to do in Piura, Peru on a good day.
I was grateful that the mall had opened.
The moto taxis (tuk tuks) seemed oblivious to the rain. I piled in with friends from Bolivia and Germany, and our moto flew through the watery streets leaving a wave behind us.
I was grateful that the drivers were so ballsy and still driving.
At the mall, a circus act burst out singing in the middle of the food court. As the floods flowed by outside, they were literally singing in the rain.
Our rag-tag hostel family became great friends who would meet again throughout our trips.
As I fell asleep, I felt grateful that I’d learned to look for gratitude when things were tough.
Shifting focus
Our animals brains are wired to focus on the bad. It’s natural. We overlook good things because they aren’t a threat to survival (and our brains are all about survival).
The good news is, we can change that.
Gratitude offers me a way to step outside that negativity and self-focus, just enough to see the good in the world and connect with others.
It was a choice to change my focus.
The flood remained. My situation was still was complicated, expensive, and not in my control.
Yet, here I was enjoying the good. It was there, too.
Gratitude alone didn’t make things improve. It didn’t mean avoiding challenging tasks (I still had to book flights and sponge bathe in a sink) — but it did change how I felt.
A new day
The next morning, we all went to a private swimming club that had opened to the public because of the floods.
I immediately felt grateful because there’s no chance I’d have gone there otherwise, and for the relief of cool water (and a semi-bath).
This place was as local as it got. Families in swim caps, water wings, and Speedos went about enjoying a day in the pool.
“Come in, come in. Where are you from? Have a beer!” The pool manager took pity on us stranded visitors. He sent over drinks.
We spent the day swimming in the flooded city and chatting with residents.
Everyone wanted to hear about the cold in Canada. Perhaps, they were trying to escape the oppressive heat in their minds.
“It snows? Can you touch it? What’s it like?” The children were at once horrified and amazed.
What they found most unbelievable: that Canada had seasons other than winter.
I belly laughed. I still don’t think that they believed me.
Same problems, new view
Everyone was still stressed. One friend’s family had been completely against them travelling and now was texting constantly in a panic.
Another person was wait-listed for a military flight to help their family in Lima, where floods had cut off water and food supply in a giant city.
Gratitude put my problems in perspective. My feelings were still valid and important to me, but now they lived in a bigger space.
My problems existed alongside the smiles around me, the horrific losses and stresses of my friends, and the world around us that just continued on.
A simple gratitude practice for difficult moments:
Each time I find myself complaining, I pause for a moment. I list five things I’m grateful for.
I don’t want to ignore the difficult parts of life, but I won’t ignore the good either. Meditation has also helped me relate to thoughts and feelings when I feel overwhelmed.
A balanced perspective keeps me singing in the rain, even in a literal flood.
Life is short, and where we focus is all we’ll ever see.
Love and light,
Ashley Carmen
