The halfway point of my month long sojourn to Costa Rica.

 

Goddess called me here to further my initiation into the humble walk of service to Her.

 

I’ve come in anonymity. No website or radio show to serve as identity or credibility. No prior experience of my work or my Being to warm up the awkward space of new meetings and introductions.

 

I am low woman on the totem pole here within a hierarchy of patriarchal shamans and traditions.

 

Working for free, late into the nights. Sometimes healing and holding at the highest level of my genius and other times carrying buckets of water to flush toilets and wiping shit and vomit from sinks, floors, and faces.

 

Traversing the depths of darkness as I hold space for journeyers to offload their most painful wounds while also celebrating millennia old healings at the break of dawn as we drum and chant and clap for freedom.

 

I am here in Devotion to the Medicine I serve.

 

Wildly out of my familiar comforts and hidey holes, I am forced… Called to turn toward Her.

 

It is a mixed bag here. A vast expanse of experiences and juxtapositions that point me toward a more inclusive understanding of All Of Life.

 

So many poisonous, bitey things: a scorpion in my room at midnight, swarms of mosquitos in my bathroom, a tarantula crawling in to join us on the floor of our ceremonial gathering, a skunk that followed me home one night playing hide and seek with me in the bushes.

 

And also blue skies, warm breezes, organic food, conscious people dedicated to their evolution, finding my people and them finding me. Miles of dusty, dirt roads filled with nearly untraversable potholes magically depositing us at an illusory oasis of one of the finest restaurants I have ever experienced (duck raviolis, pesto with sea scallops, and mango cobbler accompanied by the best bottle of wine I’ve ever tasted.)

 

A third world country wearing poverty on its sleeve while also providing health services and free education for all its people – who happen to be designated as the number one happiest people on the planet.

 

They are.

 

Kind, open, honest, helpful, generous.

 

And not just those who are from here. The people who have gathered here are a mixed bag too. Europeans, immigrants from every country. Surfers and hippies, business people who have moved here to unplug or reconnect with simplicity; seekers, medicine people, tourists, spring breakers. It is impossible to pin this place down.

 

It has me simultaneously invigorated and unsettled. I don’t know what to make of it.

 

So I am being forced to let IT make ME.

 

Letting go of my carefulness and limitations. Opening to more Yes and less No. Reorienting myself to Trusting the Source of my safety and well being as I yield my illusions of being in control.

 

At times this is crushingly lonely and fundamentally disorienting. It is also exhausting, but in a way that invites me to become defenseless.

 

Surrendered.

 

Goddess knows this is hard for me. She is with me every step. Loving me and holding me.

 

I’ve never felt her more Present.

 

In Tamarindo the other night, my friend and I were out for some light shopping and fish tacos. As we returned to our car, a small crowd was gathered just in front of our vehicle and this young guy was playing rock songs on his electric violin.

 

We paused to listen. As we stood there on the dark and dirty street, Goddess filled the entire space. In a moment of utter transcendence, he began to play Stairway to Heaven.

 

The most beautifully, exquisite tones singing a lullaby to my tender heart. A love note from the Universe about the complexity and simplicity of this thing called Life.

 

Standing next to the dumpster, with its overflowing trash and cheesy Wok N Roll sign advertising fast food, I am in on the cosmic joke of the tragedy and ecstasy of This Life.

 

As the pollution and filth clog the streets and the taxis roll by, I can also hear and smell the ocean and the toucans singing in the trees nearby. Poor children with grimy feet and faces park themselves on a piece of concrete to revel in the beauty of this sweet music.

 

And in the small crowd that gathers there together, hushed in silence at the miracle of this blessing pouring forth from this unexpected place… there is joy. Happiness. A sense of community. We are all in this together.

 

Midway through the song, at the height of our rapture, our street musician receives a call on his cell phone and it cuts out his sound system.

 

He stops playing to take the call.

 

It is his Mother.

 

No one moves a muscles.

 

We all wait while he chats with her so pleasantly. And then when he is done, he plugs back in and without apology begins playing again.

 

The lesson is not lost on me. In fact, it is FOR me.

 

As is EVERYTHING in life.

 

Always stop to take a Call from your Mother.

 

With tears welling up and heart breaking open with love and rhapsody I want to give back to this moment. I open fully to participating with Life on every level. Allowing Her beauty to Use me in Her service.

 

As the song finishes to a round of enthusiastic applause from our little congregation, I am moved to offer some money to a tiny shoeless kid in a red T-shirt. He too had been in-joy with this particular love song from the Universe.

 

His mama had a small table of jewelry she was selling and I approached her to ask if it would be alright if I gave him some money.

“Sure,” she said. “He has his own special purse for it. He is a very good collector.”

He was eating a sandwich that may have been his first in awhile.

 

His mama pulled out his little purse and he pointed to the pocket he wanted me to put the money in, while continuing to enthusiastically wolf down his sandwich.

 

Mama cues him, “What do you say?”

 

And with the sweetest little glance in my direction he says, “You’re Welcome.”

 

Yep.

 

All Of Life dancing in the exchange of Thank You and You’re Welcome.

 

It is our stairway to heaven.