She walks us

I'm writing in a fast train to Rome after a week of deep realizations in Tuscany.

Arriving to a new shala is always a surprise.  The anticipation reminds me of the butterflies in the stomach I used to feel before arriving in school for the new year.  New friends,  new faces,  all watching me as if I had a special superpower to deliver them something they need.

And its exactly the opposite.

I plan my workshops and classes but I always know the end result doesn't depend on me.  It depends on the group.  In this one the energy was very cohesive and we were all going through a difficult patch.  The teachings came out very organically,  delivered with a gentle pace and rhythm.  

I learned about the power of saying no,  I don't want this in my life anymore.  Enough of it.

I also learned how to love myself more-  even though lately its been extremely hard.

I learned stories about changing countries and starting lives from scratch-  exactly what i´m going through.

How to let go and cry infinitely for those we have lost.

When to surrender to the power of faith in our dreams and take actions daily to make them happen.

How to find a new zest for life when the system has dislodged us from duties and considers us outsiders. 


One of my students was missing half hand;  I am missing half my heart.  Another one had lost his wife,  other her health.  I've lost so much lately I don´t even count anymore. We were all a little broken,  excruciatingly empty.  This emptiness became full,  open and mysteriously filled by so much Love.  

Love for the practice and the teachers. For the knowledge that poured into our souls like sweet nectar.  But the most important the gathering of spirits for the lifting of our tapas.

I reached Florence with my senses opened and my mind caressed by many.  I leave with my soul full of hope with a tangible Love that doesn't depend on the happenings of life.  Its a quiet whisper that follows the singing of the bird in the morning,  walks with me every where and observes everything,  knowing I'm not any of that.

And I'm also every part of it.

I'm the eyes of the man who can't cry because he is afraid he may never stop.

I'm the hands of the woman without a voice who has started to dream about freedom.

I'm the power of the yogi who misses India every day yet thinks he may never be able to go back to Narnia.

I'm the hopelessness turned into a bundle of love threaded by the wise connection that sustains us. 

As the train moves through forests and mountains in this lovely Tuscany,  I know invisible forces have taken control of my life.  What remains back in Costa Rica and belongs to me is moving steadily closer.  What has already gathered momentum is flying high,  unencumbered by my presence.   Released from the burden of having me around which is great also.

What is ours is written in our destiny and no one can take away.  

This intense opening that touched a group of us this past weekend will live in our memories forever.  It will taint our actions and decisions and pamper our brokenness when the darkness shows up.  The illumination stays because light can only wither but never die. It has come with us to this earth to remind us we are just visitors here.  

And yet,  in the visit we will find that immense relief of knowing she walked with us here all the way.