universal
As I sit here, gazing out at the Costa Rican jungle, I’m captivated by the beauty of the landscape—the endless shades of green and brown. I know that the mountains are there, hiding behind the trees, with coffee being grown in the hills. But for now, they are invisible, cloaked by marshmallows of thick clouds and the promise of an approaching thunderstorm. The breeze is cool and consistent, and I find myself still in awe that I’m here—breathing, witnessing, existing in this moment. The bugs, the birds, the butterflies—they all move with life, while I wrestle with a lingering exhaustion and excitement. I feel the parts of me that are here, fully present, and the parts of me that still linger somewhere far away. And yet, I’m thankful. Thankful to be aware that I am more than my body, even though it’s this body that allows me to experience everything around me right now.
Paradise, as it turns out, isn’t always easy. It comes with sacrifice, with effort, and with a kind of clarity that reveals truths I can sometimes avoid elsewhere. The truth that I still have work to do in fully being secure within myself. I first realized this back in February, when I stayed with the Fallas family for the first time. In all my excitement and gratitude to be here, I didn’t anticipate the challenge of not being able to speak the native language fluently. I hadn’t thought about how difficult it would be to fully understand or be understood.
And yet, this shadow—the shame and sadness that arose from that language barrier—became my teacher. That’s what shadows do, don’t they? They exist only because something is blocking the light. For me, it was the realization of how disconnected I had been from my own ancestry, from the language of my ancestors, español. The inability to speak it fluently stirred something deep, something that had been hiding in plain sight—a shadow of unspoken grief.
But in this shadow, I also found universal truths. Despite not being able to communicate perfectly with words, I experienced connection. Whether it was through moments shared with the dogs here, or the company of a beautiful five-year-old girl, I realized that language isn’t the only way we connect. It’s the laughter, the joy, the shared experience of being alive. We don’t need to speak the same language to feel each other’s presence, to enjoy each other’s company. These simple moments, like gathering for a meal or watching a thunderstorm roll in, remind me of the common thread that runs through all of us, no matter where we are or who we are.
This same universal truth exists in the practice of yoga. For over a decade, yoga has shown me that beyond all identities, roles, and separations, there is this one timeless wisdom: we can all return to peace within. No matter our background, our language, or our external circumstances, we can all access this stillness. We can all participate in this practice of returning home to ourselves. What would it be like if we held more space for these universal themes—this joy, this peace—instead of focusing on the divisions?
As I think about all that’s happening in the world right now—particularly the genocide in Gaza, the oppression of the Palestinian people, and the way American ideals often seem to reign supreme—I feel an ache. We are not superior. We are not separate. We are one. One universal entity, one humanity. The pain that’s felt across the globe, the suffering of oppressed peoples, isn’t disconnected from us. Just as the storm clouds obscure the mountains, our own inner storms—our shadows—can blind us from seeing this truth. But the mountains are still there. The light is always there, waiting to break through.
Being here in Costa Rica, surrounded by the natural world, in the presence of animals and children, reminds me of this universal connection. We are all part of something greater, something that transcends the barriers we create. Life here is simple, yet profound. In these small moments, I am reminded that we are already connected in ways far beyond words. We are all capable of experiencing the same love, the same joy, the same peace—if only we can let go of what blocks us from it.
i’m curious, what’s blocking the light for you? please feel free to share below as well as any other insight, ah-has, realizations, and your crazy-beautiful truths - thank you!
on the horizon…
A healing through Pet Loss Virtual Circle & Community
Sunday, November 10, 2024
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