I went to Costa Rica
“What am I doing here?”
Wandering aimlessly in the jungle, I found this question on repeat. I followed my heart to Costa Rica, and my mind still couldn’t compute the decision. Maybe my mind was right? Maybe my heart had a miscalculation (Kerrie’s note for Kerrie: calculations are a byproduct of the mind, not the heart).
I wish I could explain my experience - I wish it more for myself than anything. I often find myself trying to speak to the unspeakable. I’ve spent the last couple of years in this space of not understanding, of feeling the sensations that have been stored and locked in my cells without the language to tell their story. Imprinted implicit memory slowly releasing, reaching for the surface. What I can do is tell you what I know, and trust the nonlinear tale to weave itself in resonance to our collective unspeakable experiences.
Qoya found me five years ago at a time of recalibration, a spinning compass seeking its North Star. Inspired movement with music and gentle guidance allowed me to spiral my way from my head into the wisdom of my body in a way that opened new pathways. I’ve remembered so much through Qoya, but for the sake of speaking to this experience, it started by being met with numbness. Numbness from sensation, from life. The layers of cement that protected me - and cut me off. Each thick layer tightly packed together holding within it stories, defense mechanisms, judgements - 1,001 ways to keep me safe conjured within the numbness of my body. The brilliance of my numbness is not having to remember experiences that are too much. Numbness is a survival tactic, and it’s effective as fuck.
My walls of numbness are crumbling. With each collapse I’m met with indescribable sensations that are a swirl of danger and fear. My heart called me to Costa Rica, back to Qoya, to be witnessed in another crumbling layer of numbness. To be witnessed in the story my body had to tell. To release it in the primal heat of the jungle, an apt metaphor. The screams of the howler monkeys : the screams trapped in my spine. The blood the mosquitoes drew : my lack of control. The humidity : the oppressor I couldn’t outrun. The oceans turbulent tides : the pulling under just when I thought I was stable. My environment : the mother that held and hurt.
My body wretched and clenched most mornings. The flood of sensations overriding my ability to reason, to soothe. As my body told the story it remembered, there was nothing I could do but be with it, and then bring it to be witnessed in its writhing in sacred circle, to move with and through every tingle, every ache, every tremor. I watched the sunset over the ocean the evenings I surrendered my body to the process. I would offer my feet, sometimes my body, and allow the moment to be a completion of yet another layer. As the salt seeped into my pores I found more capacity to absorb the grace Mother Ocean could offer to meet my exhaustion.
The card I pulled on the first day had a visceral effect on me. It was ‘Courageous’ with the image of a breaking wave. It takes courage to do this work, to show up in what would be easier to leave numb - over and over and over again. I might not have known why I was there on a cognitive level, but my heart had a plan. I trusted my heart’s calling, a desire to continue to be liberated, even when it didn’t make sense, even when it was hard.
I continue to have courage, because life demands it of me, and I’m here for life, all of it. I’m turning another page, shedding fear, finding freedom, and opening new doors. I do this for me, but also for my ancestors, for your ancestors, for our collective liberation. Each one of us that breaks free, that is brave enough to crumble, creates opportunities for others to do the same. This is my sacred work, and I approach it with reverence for the mystery + magick of life.
~Gratitude to the humans who gathered in Costa Rica, to Qoya, and to the lands and it’s caretakers who held me in my turbulence. Each soul that said yes to witnessing our collective thresholds, the perfectly curated altars, the music, the dances, the shares, mama ocean, they were the perfect ingredients to allow me to continue to crumble. Love you beyond time and space…and words.