Awakening.
Awakening.
This blog post is a conglomeration of reflections that I had written before, during, and after my encounter with death. I am so grateful that I had taken the time to capture my experiences to remember, reflect, and share with you all.
In November of 2017, while reading Brene Brown’s brilliant book: BRAVING THE WILDERNESS: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone, I took a solo trip down to Mexico to honor my 43rd birthday.
On Monday, November 20th, while engulfing the chapter called: Hold Hands. With Strangers, I fatefully had a near death experience and my life’s trajectory took a very different turn.
I was able to live into this message more powerfully than I could have ever imagined, as I was the only tourist amongst locals who were dangerously close to a “hit” by the Mexican drug cartel in which 5 people were murdered.
As I emerged from hiding under a bed, not knowing if the shooter would be making his way towards us or not, if I would be boarding a plane back home to my son, my life as I knew it....I learned that the sweet waitress in which I had been interacting with the past few days and had left her a few hours prior with a hug and a squeeze of the hands -- had been murdered --along with 4 others.
I spent the next two hours with the people who worked at the venue I was currently located, listening to their stories with tears in their eyes, holding space for some of the armor to drop, hugging them, putting my hands on them to soothe their nervous systems and weary hearts, and opening myself and my heart to strangers.
I held hands with each of them.
It was the most powerful and life-altering experience of my life. This is what they are living with every single day while I am privileged to hop on a plane and return to my life. I return with a determination to impact those around me personally and professionally with significance.
To me, there is no time to play small, censor who we are, and hide ourselves from the world.
I share this with you not to exude fear or guilt, yet to acknowledge that there is so much pain in the world. We cannot turn our backs on each other; we cannot deny what is happening globally and right here in our country. We also cannot live our lives run by guilt, remorse, fear, shame, or any other way, which does not honor the present moment of who we are and what our life’s path is.
As privileged humans, we have a responsibility to show up and use our privilege in a way that impacts others positively. We have no idea what stories and experiences people are carrying with them and I, for one, will never take any of my interactions for granted again.
Do you need to have a near death experience to wake up to a more embodied and conscious way of living? To be kind to strangers? To make eye contact with the checker at the grocery store and perhaps ask how their day is going? To pass an energy bar or a $1 out your window to a homeless person who is suffering in the cold? To help another just for the sake of doing so rather than because it will boost your ego? What impact do you want to have on those you cross paths with? How do you want others to feel in your presence? What is truly important in your life to be putting your energy into?
These are questions that I ponder often and offer to you as we embark upon this New Year, fresh with possibilities, and ripe for the continued evolution of who we are and the impact that we want to have on the planet.
May this story, perhaps light a fire under you to fulfill your life’s purpose, to love deeper, to open your heart to more souls, to be more present with your children and family….
Upon returning….
I reflect back to that moment when I heard the first gun shot — the explosion of a life — the ending of breath. That moment of impact and disbelief amongst us all. That moment of pure and raw awakening.
That gunshot woke me up from a trance that I had been in. In May of 2016 I was derailed, humiliated and degraded in a court of law by my sons dad. It was a Scorpio Full Moon and exactly 8 years to the day that I had labored and birthed my child and become a mother. That day, 8 years later, I was burned at the stake with witnesses in horror and some, sadly, in satisfaction. That day imprinted me deeply and the months that followed I spun in circles of disbelief, grief, shame, unbelievable sadness, anger, and desperation. I felt as though I had been shot with an “AK” that day as it penetrated me to my core.
6 months later, during the Scorpio New Moon, I was shot back into my body, back into myself, back into the present moment of reality. That first gunshot hit my soul; the moments afterwards cracked my heart open. The moments of not knowing if you are going to die are terrifying but are also incredibly grounding. You are given perspective and a profound sense of peace. Although I did not know if my physical body would be ok, I actually knew that everything was ok. No regrets, no remorse, only prayers of peace. Nothing fluffy with these peaceful wishes — I was praying for the peace of humanity. Questioning what in the hell is going on on a fundamental level. Those moments of not knowing if I was going to live or die woke me up to the essence of who I am. There was no time to panic, cry, regret, mourn….it was just me with me. It was a time of connection that I had never experienced before and one that I have struggled to find again since returning. I felt more alive in that moment of pending death than I ever have before.
January 2018: The calendar year has changed and so have I. I have returned to “life as usual” yet there is absolutely nothing usual about my inner workings and me. I am altered forever and trying to find my way into the shape of my new life. Relationships have fallen away, my perspective on everythinghas shifted, I have fumbled and taken the dive downwards and I have continuously arisen with an upright spine — more clear and sure of my direction in life, of who I truly am, my purpose on this planet, and how I want to be living. It is not easy — it is work — but so worthy. Finding my way back home has felt like an adventure to a foreign land. Every moment of every day a new experience — an exploration. I feel as though every day that I wake up my vision is clearer, clarified, and yet I still have many moments of fogginess. I have felt myself in the birth canal many days. Very stressful and painful at times, yet feels necessary. To quote one of the all time greatest artists and activists, Bob Marley: “Wake up and live your life”. I keep hearing that line run through my consciousness. No matter what happens in my days, how things end up flowing (or not) I feel a fire has been lit. I am able to own when I am acting less than graceful, apologize if need be — to myself and those whom I may have harmed — I have embraced my humanness in an embodied way. I feel my connection to all of humanity — I feel the pain and suffering and also the joy and celebration. I do not shy from either. I do not take my interactions with others for granted as each one has been placed there for a purpose.
And I am struggling to find my place in this broken world. To honor my experiences, share myself openly and not cower from shame. I question the “why me?” often. I believe we create our own reality — the Law of Attraction — so then why did I attract this situation in? Why have I been through so many deeply traumatizing experiences in my short lifetime and especially in the past few years? Why was I chosen to be the only tourist during this incredibly powerful experience of life and death? This time of heart and soul connection…why me? This event bookmarks an incredibly challenging time in my life period and it certainly ended with a bang.
And there is no time for regrets, for the questions of why and how I have ended up in the circumstances that I have. No time to dwell in the past. There is only the forward movement and the momentum to live a life of wholeness, of presence, and of intentionality. I feel that I have been chosen to live a life of service to others and that my ability to transcend the many life’s challenges I have faced is directly translated into my capacity to hold the space for others to do so as well.
Below is the story of my Mexican adventure.
Boarding that plane in Denver on November 17th, I had no idea what was in store for me. I think of that time often, recognizing and acknowledging that we truly have no ability to know how things are going to unfold. The importance of capturing those precious moments with our children, our friends, our families as if they could be the last. To always “end well”, as I have been teaching my son. No matter what happens between you and a loved one, end well. Express love and gratitude openly, touch often, impact positively. Because in the end, none of the BS really matters, it’s the gestures of loving-kindness that are the most impactful.
Traveling alone in a foreign country is an experience of vulnerability, trust, openness, and a true test in tuning into ones inner guidance. I had a window of opportunity with my son with his dad for Thanksgiving for the first time ever, my birthday on the horizon, and a little bit of money. So, I hopped on the Airbnb website and found a little room attached to a Mexican household for $40 a night and I made the choice to go. I had a beautiful dialogue with the woman who offered to pick him up and drop me off at the airport for free since I would be their first official guest. Her profile picture really sold me as she stood with her sweet husband beaming and her shirt saying “gratitude”. This is not exactly a “norm” in Mexico and I felt immediately connected to her.
My flight to San Jose del Cabo was blessed in and of itself as I sat next to the most amazing couple and their 3 teenagers. The mother and I chatted during the entire trip as we are in the same realm of work within the healing arts -- she is a well-established chiropractor doing incredible work with women and mothers in her area. I was so inspired and it felt like a miracle to be sitting next to a woman on a plane that I could connect with at such a heart level. I took it as a sign that I was absolutely in the right place at the right time.
I have traveled alone in Mexico often. I am comfortable and confident. Getting off the plane there always feels like I am being wrapped in a warm blanket of goodness. I love the Mexican people, their culture, their deep sense of family and community, their food, the overarching friendliness and gratefulness exuding from their hearts that I do feel being a tourist there. I mix myself in with the locals and I love it. I don’t stay in the fancy hotels or heavily tourist areas. I also don’t completely isolate myself but I have found balance in where I explore. I like to support the local economy and interact with the locals. I eat at the taco stands and interact with as many of the locals that I can. I always love to hear their stories and just bring some light and love to their hearts as I can feel how compromising it is to live in this country.
Upon arriving in San Jose, I made my way outside where hoards of locals were standing there holding signs, taxi drivers trying to convince me I needed a ride, and the overwhelming feeling of desperation for business. My host was picking me up and when I didn’t see her I went and got a cold Cerveza (because it’s Mexico after all!) and sat and took some breaths…letting myself land. My host woman found me, greeted me with a hug, and guided me to their car where her husband was waiting. This is an incredible Mexican couple that have made some big things happen for themselves. They are both in real estate and he is a builder. They own several properties in the area, which they rent out. The room at their home is a new endeavor for them and I was fortunate enough to be their first guest. They are lovely people and I felt so good and cared for. She is telling me about the hoards of options of what to do and see, makes sure that I am clear as to everywhere to go, and they make several stops along the way to show me the highlights. We arrive at their home, which is situated just a few blocks from the ocean and within walking distance of this sweet little fishing town. I am in heaven. The room is perfect with a separate entrance, mini kitchen, and a table looking out the window. I settle in immediately.
The view was out at the residential street facing a church up on the hill. I was able to see the comings and goings of the community gathering at this church, which was clearly a focal point of this area. It was a place of connection and it was moving to watch. I loved watching the children playing happily outside – feeling their joy and freedom. I watched the interactions of the adults – respectful, connected, and alive. I felt grateful to be in the mix of this community. I felt at ease with myself, and eager to explore. I had brought my computer with the intention of these few days being a writing retreat. I set up shop, changed into my sundress and took off to explore.
The beach was not exactly human friendly as you couldn’t swim due to the high current, it was pretty dirty and treacherous to get down to, but I was choosing to make the best of it. I was in Mexico after all! I spent a little time by the water, was bitten by some creature crawling in the sand, was bombarded by the emergence of drunk Americans with southern accents smoking cigarettes, so I packed up and decided to just walk around. It is all learning for me while traveling alone to a new place and I just took it as such. That particular spot I would not return to.
I had a lovely first day exploring and landed at a restaurant upstairs with incredible ceviche and guacamole….I was in heaven. I carried a notebook with me everywhere and sat and wrote while I dined for several hours. People came and went and I stayed taking it all in. I rarely carry a phone with me when I am traveling. This particular trip I did and spent an unusual amount of time documenting my trip with my phone’s camera.
I was feeling grounded and confident in my landing in this beautiful county.
Each day had a similar flavor – it always takes me a couple of days to really settle in and collect my bearings. By Monday morning I was feeling marvelous. I got up and decided to treat myself to some espresso at the hotel down the street. I packed up my bag with my money and notebook and ventured out. As I made my way downhill the 3 blocks to the ocean, I ran into an American expat named Donald. After a sweet connect with him and learning more about the area that he has called home for the past 8 years, I carried on and made my way to Hotel Ganzo. I was greeted by a lovely young waitress with decent English and she became my connection at this place for the next two days. My Americano and beet juice order she would remember and tend to with the utmost care. That Monday morning I felt embodied and enlivened by my experiences and surroundings. I was happy, at peace, my heart was open and I was full of gratitude…I was in love with life. Sipping an Americano while gazing out at the pier and watching the fishermen gear up for their day was a beautiful site to behold and I was soaking it up.
Once fully caffeinated I said my goodbyes and made my way back up the hill to my home, unlocked the gate, locked myself in and got ready to venture out for the day.
There was a little cove right next to the treacherous beach in which the waters were calm enough to immerse in. It was filled with large Mexican families hovered under an umbrella sharing food and conversation and men of all ages fishing.
I arrived and was the only white-skinned person there. I felt welcomed. I took out my sarong and laid it out on the dirty beach, got out my book and notebook and inhabited my space. I spent some time reading in the sun and then made my way into the water. I was floating and looked over to my left where there were 3 young Mexican girls watching me. I smiled and waved and we had a delightful acknowledgment of each other. They were clearly fascinated by me and I reciprocated with kindness and attentiveness. We couldn’t speak to each other yet continued to interact through our gestures. It was playful and loving.
Around 11:45pm I decide to take a break from the sun and return to a small taco stand that I had been to the past few days for a cold cerveza and some time writing in my notebook. The same lovely waitress whom has been there the past few days greets me and, although does not speak the same verbal language, our hearts connect deeply. She anticipates my order, treats me as though I am a celebrity carefully placing my wide-brimmed hat on the chair next to me and pulls the large wooden chair out gently for me to sit. Each time she walks past me, she squeezes my shoulder as a gesture of loving kindness and gratitude. Our monetary exchanges involve connected eye contact, smiles, hugs, and the holding of hands. She was a beautiful, bright being, with a vibrant personality and a tremendous heart. I spend the next hour there in fluidity, writing from the depths of me, reflecting, honoring, and appreciating.
I don’t normally talk to many other tourists when I am traveling alone. I like to keep to myself but this day during my stint at “Pacifico” a couple from California sit close by and we strike up a conversation. They are brilliant, friendly, lovely, intelligent, and inspiring. They speak excellent Spanish and engage with the waitress in the most lighthearted and easeful manner. It is beautiful to watch. I remember the satisfaction of the conversation in which I had with these newlyweds from San Francisco. I remember both of their presence, their genuine interest in whom I was and what I am doing within the world. I learn that they have been together for almost a decade, yet just got married. Their ease and level of comfort with each other was palpable. I am inspired.
12:45 PM… I have a clear intuition that it is time to go and right now. I take out my pesos and hold them up for sweet waitress to grab. There was no delay according to my inner being. I pay her, tip her, rise up and hug her, squeeze hands with her…all of our hands on board for this moment. Hearts open, huge smiles, and tremendous unspoken love pours. I did not know why I needed to leave, but I followed that voice.
I am in the flow, attuned to my inner voice of knowing and guidance. I decide to meander down the street and into the walk in massage venue that I had noticed earlier in my trip. The thought of receiving a nice long massage at a low rate was very appealing and I decided to go for it and treat myself. An older Mexican woman who exudes nurturance and care greets me. I trust that I am in the right place at the right moment and I get on the table and have the experience of being tended to in a way that I never have before. I am so at peace and relaxed and it is welcomed. The unwinding continues from the trauma of 6 months prior and I feel an overwhelming sense of relief wash over me. For those 90 minutes, I am at peace and that, to me, is worth my entire trip down there.
After my luscious massage, I emerge and blissfully walk down the main street in Los Cabos. I am feeling even more comfortable in this fishing town, am grounded in myself, and truly grateful to be alive in that moment. My senses are all awakened and I am tuned into myself. I run into the husband of the couple whom I am renting from and we have a sweet exchange. I am more convinced than ever that I need to come down here every other month for a personal retreat as well as to lead yoga retreats. I decide to go back to a restaurant that I had been to the past few days, right next door to Pacifico, in a hotel called La Marina Inn. A beautiful courtyard was beckoning me to sit and write for the next while and I obliged.
It is the same staff that has been there for the past few days and I know a few of them. I feel welcomed and safe. I return to my familiar table that I had sat at before…feeling confident that I was in the zone as I happened to look up and the room number directly ahead of me was 111. My son and my lucky number. Facing out at the pool, not a care in the world. Deep exhale.
It was approximately 3:15pm and I had just written down a list of ideas as to how I could travel down there regularly as a writing retreat, teaching opportunities, a cheap vacation for Kai and I, etc. Everything was feeling easy, fluid, and comfortable. I felt at home. The waiter, whom I had interacted with a few days prior and whom had nipped my poor Spanish in the bud, had just brought me freshly made guacamole, which I was devouring chasing with a cold margarita. That’s just what you do in Mexico. I was the only tourist at that moment at La Marina Inn restaurant, a beautiful white and black building on the street but right across from the ocean. It was as oceanfront as you got in this area and it was lovely. The place was always empty which was peculiar to me — filled with sweet employees, but no guests. I later learned that there was only one room filled during this time.
I was immersed in a chapter of Braving the Wilderness on that fateful day called: Hold Hands. With Strangers. I had no idea what that truly meant until 3:30 pm on November 20, 2017.
At approximately 3:30pm, a gunshot goes off and ripples through the air. To me it sounds more like a bomb and has that feeling to it. That first gunshot was a moment of awakening. I felt as though, until that very moment, I had been walking around in a trance, and I had. The gun shot felt to me like a slap across the face — I look up from my writing unsure what has actually happened, and see all of the wait staff running towards first the entrance to the restaurant and then quickly shifting gears and fleeing towards an open hotel room.
I speak. “What’s going on?” The waiter whom I had felt bonded to, a sweet young expectant father, caring, tending…says aloud “He has an AK”. He grabs me and takes me into the hotel room with them and shoves me under the bed. I am still asking, “What’s going on? What’s going on?” — a part of my acknowledgment and shock — my naive, white-skinned, Boulder-bubble self-attempting to make sense of what’s happening. This young man kept himself out and visible — a sort of watchtower — to report back to us all…there were about 10 of us hiding in this room. Some in the bathroom, under tables, and under the beds. I stayed in contact with this sweet man who stayed calm and kind — he stayed connected to me — I felt his genuine care and concern for my wellbeing. And, I trusted him, which was no small declaration in a time when our lives were at stake. As I continued to repeat as if a script “What’s going on? What’s going on? What’s going on?” — he gently put his finger to his lips symbolizing to me to be quiet — he had a little smile on his face and looked me straight in the eyes. He was my guiding light and I felt protected. After that initial explosive gun shot, there were 4 more succinct shots fired and then it was over. It was silent during each of these; the only sound that I heard was a quiet feminine sigh. That’s it. No screaming, no panicked yelling, no commotion. It was still and it was quiet. Eerily quiet.
No longer than 5 minutes after thrusting myself under the bed at this Mexican hotel, my sweet Mexican friend ushered me out. The young waiter who had nipped my poor Spanish in the bud that first night he waited on me and we had a laugh. The man who had offered to take a picture of me with my margarita, my travel companion at the time, which I laughed and declined. The young man whose name I sadly cannot remember. I will never forget his words. He said: “He is gone. He is not coming back”. And I believed him and trusted him implicitly.
I learn that the waitress from next door, the one who just a few hours earlier had been tending to me and we had been sending love mutually through our bodies despite our language barrier, had been murdered. Along with the cook, and 3 other men. The Mexican drug cartel, however, it was said that the killer was actually a young white guy.
I spent the next 2 hours there, huddled in the courtyard restaurant with the employees. The staff and me. That was it. I was witness to their collective grief and I was right there with them. I walk up to a tall waiter with crooked teeth whom I had been talking with earlier that day about his clear English and how he was forced to learn…I know he can talk to me. I ask him what happened. He is sweating and flustered, yet kind. He simply says: “Everything is going to shit”. My heart sinks, I agree and I return to my table where the remnants of my watered down margarita stood alone. I sucked it down in an effort to regain some semblance of safety, of peace, of pleasure. I looked up just afterwards towards the open kitchen where the staff had returned and caught a glimpse of an older woman trying to lift a cup of ice water to her lips and her hand shaking so fervently that she could barely meet the cup to her mouth. I saw the wife of one of the employees who happened to be in a car on the curb and witnessed that initial shot of death…who saw that sweet waitress murdered. She was sitting at a table surrounded by a couple others. My guiding light narrating to me the scenario that had occurred for her. She and her husband had pulled up so that he could quickly run in to grab something, leaving her in the car. She fatefully was right there when the killer pulled up and opened fire, leaving her memory scarred of seeing someone murdered. She was crying and shaking. She spoke no English. I went up to her and just put my hands on her shoulders — asking her if she was okay — knowing she didn’t understand my words, yet felt my supportive and soothing presence.
I would wander back and forth to my table — being joined by various employees checking on me. Asking me if I was okay. Sitting with me, tears in their eyes, sharing their experiences of that day, that moment, and also of their lives. I learned about the hardships these people are facing every single day and the lack of choice they have around it. I learned that my sweet young friend has a wife who is pregnant. She went to visit her family in Guadalajara and is not aloud to return. They will not allow her back to San Jose. He justifies this by saying, “It’s okay, I am here (at work) all day every day anyhow”. Heart breaks again. Each of the men that approach me for solace think they are coming to me to check on me, to make sure that I am okay, but rather what occurs is the opposite. I provide the space for them to open their hearts, to put down their walls of armor for a moment, to well up with tears and it be welcome, I listen, we cry together, we hug, and we have the unspoken acknowledgment that we will never forget each other. We will all be altered forever, together, and yet apart.
The older woman from the kitchen with the shaking hands comes up to my sweet waiter friend and they hug goodbye. I learn that it was her birthday, his birthday the day before…Scorpios. I share that it was just mine. A whole lot of Scorpios in this space during this Scorpio New Moon. A recipe for intensity no doubt.
I am trying to reach the woman whose home I am staying in and my messages are not going through. I spend some time at the reception desk with a young freckled man who shares with me, with tears in his eyes, that he is “used to this” as he did a first aid class. I feel his justification and strong front but also feel his softness, fear, and vulnerability. We share many moments of connection as I work with my phone to access the spotty Internet to encourage my message to be delivered. Our hearts are open and comforted in each other’s presence. The next hour or so are sprinkled with just that. Open hearts, comfort, outrage, fear, disgust, gratitude, and the overwhelming knowing that it was not our time to go.
I am picked up by my host family and taken into their home, fed chamomile tea, invited to join them for dinner, and held. I give thanks that this is the family that I have chosen to stay with and understand in my bones that the situation could have been highly disastrous if not. They own two other properties in the area and offer for me to go and stay in their newest, in a gated community, for my last two nights. I know that I am not going to stay for two more nights yet graciously agree to be moved the next morning to remain in the country for another 24 hours. I return to my room, take a shower, crawl into bed and call my dearest friend. She helps me sort out my game plan. I know that I am not ready to jump back on a plane first thing the following morning. I need time to settle, digest, process, and embody. I decide to leave a day early; I change my flight, pack up my belongings and attempt to fall asleep.
The next morning is surreal. It is difficult for me to grasp what had occurred the day before. I decide to face my fears and emerge from my casa, walk down the familiar hill towards the ocean, meander past the scene of the crime, and go buy myself a nice breakfast and coffee. I am highly aware, as I emerge that I am altered. I am not the same person that I was just 24 hours prior, doing a similar ritual.
I am stronger, I am braver, I am awake to the preciousness of life, I am attuned to all of my senses as I walk – breathing in the crispness of the morning air, hearing the sounds of dogs barking and children playing, I walk past a school yard, the same homes that I had previously….yet, everything looks different. Everything feels different. I am different.
I visit the ocean atop a cliff, see the fisherman at work. I then turn towards Pacifico and La Marina Inn. I notice that at Pacifico although the windows are boarded shut, the condiments remain on the tables, the empty beer bottles with their squeezed limes hover on the tops of them. The chairs are scattered. No one will be coming to work today as they have been murdered, is all I can think about. I also am hyper aware that no one around me has any idea that this occurred just 12 hours prior. I think of the lovely couple that I interacted with earlier the previous day. I have an overarching desire to tell them what has happened to that sweet waitress. To let them know that we all dodged a bullet just a few hours earlier. They have no idea and never will know. This is something that is meant for only my knowledge, for whatever reason.
I am the one that is privileged to have been witness to this loss. I am the one who has had the gift of perspective about the pure preciousness of being alive. I am the fortunate one to be able to walk away, alive and intact, more inspired than ever to live a life of meaning and purpose, of love and connection, of joy and peace.
I make my way to El Ganzo hotel restaurant and have the same waitress that I had had just 24 hours earlier. She knows my order and anticipates it before I am even sitting. I tell her what had happened with tears in my eyes and heart open. She stands in disbelief tears welling and we have an unspoken understanding of the pain and fear that this community is living with every day. I spend hours there – staring at the pier, appreciating the ocean, writing, eating well, caffeinating, connecting, crying, and unwinding. I leave with a hug of sheer empathy, a large tip, and an open heart.
I am moved to a gated community in the center of “hotel row” they call it. It is actually my nemesis in traveling – inundated with tourism, Starbucks, and ignorance. I, of course, receive my new home graciously and trust in where I have landed for the next 24 hours.
Not knowing what to do with myself, I change into my bathing suit and make my way to the pool with my towel and my book. I am unsettled and am seeking some semblance of settling. There is a lovely older woman there when I arrive. I cannot help myself but begin to make conversation with her. So unlike me in my solo traveling experiences, but I need to talk to someone who speaks my language fluently. She is lovely and kind and compassionate. She is a Canadian tourist whom owns a place in this compound. I learn that this particular location is brimming with Canadians and I feel at ease. She leaves and another woman arrives who turns out to be my angel.
Sandy, in her matching attire, is floating in the pool. I am sitting on the steps, still not knowing what to do with myself. I cannot lay on a chair and relax. I begin to make conversation with her and end up telling her the entire story. She and I cry together, laugh hysterically, and talk about everything. I feel as though I have known this woman my entire life. She non-invasively asks me what my plan is for the rest of the day and casually mentions that we should have a margarita together later. She then very subtly shows me exactly where she lives, walks me to my door, and tells me her plan. I don’t think too much of it but am thankful to know that she is around. I change my clothes and brave the wild outside the gate world, not really knowing what I am doing but know that I need to eat.
I am on edge but walk down to the mecca of activity and find myself at a Mexican restaurant. I order my much needed comfort of a massive bowl of guacamole and a margarita. I drink too much and eat a lot. I need to. I tell the story to one of the waiters who then doesn’t come near my table again. I understand. Sometimes it is better just not to know. It’s easier to remain in the place of ignorance. I have no judgment; I just carry on with my meal and my day.
After sufficiently numbing myself with food and beverage, I deliriously meander around searching for the access to the beach amongst the enormousness of the all-inclusive haven. I never find it yet uncover many hidden gems. It is late afternoon, the sun is beaming, and I feel as though I am in the spotlight. I can feel palpably that I am holding onto a tremendous piece of the puzzle. I have witnessed a murder less than 24 hours ago and no one around me has a clue. I feel alone, yet protected.
It is time to make my way back to the gated community up on the hill. I am needing shelter and a respite from the public eye. As I walk down the street towards the turn upwards, I spot my angel, Sandy perched on a patio dressed in orange-themed ware – a sundress with matching jewelry, matching glasses, a little purse in which the servers at the restaurant brought over a little rack for her to hang on. She is a site for sore eyes and I land with her immediately. She welcomes my wariness and immediately puts me at ease. I am unshowered, unmakeup-ed, hair in a messy bun on top of my head, buzzed on tequila, and slightly falling apart. She had clearly positioned herself at this restaurant looking for me. Her sweet and funny presence immediately put me at ease and I felt as though I could let my guard down. She provided the opportunity for me to laugh, talk, cry, and process…. It was divinely healing. We spent time on the patio together until the sun was setting. We then walked together back to the retirement compound and she invited me up to her home away from home. I obliged. We continued our time together on her patio laughing, crying, and digesting.
I attempted to sleep unsuccessfully. As the lights and sound of this new place were magnified and rattling, I could not settle. I could not rest.
Dawn arrived not soon enough….
I was composing a note to my angel that I was going to walk down and find some coffee when her beaming self emerged at my door with a note in her hand. She was right there with me….in every way.
She guided me down to Starbucks and I reluctantly joined the other tourists in ordering my coffee and the best chocolate croissant I had ever had. My senses were heightened during this time and I had a newfound appreciation for everything that I was ingesting. I was grateful to be alive and to have the opportunity to do so.
Sandy and I spent the next hour together talking, sharing, laughing….we walked the beach, sat by the pool, and appreciated our precious time together.
Every moment was a gift with this magnificent woman and one that I will never forget nor take for granted. She was sent to my aid divinely and her presence was comforting on a level I could never have imagined. I will always feel a connection to my guardian angel and the most immense gratitude that our paths crossed in the most heartbreaking of circumstances.
I was driven to the airport by my host and he was so sweet, kind, loving, and supportive. My experience rattled him and I felt that strongly the night of the shooting while sitting at his kitchen table. He is a sensitive soul, raising a little girl in this country, and distraught over what is occurring. His protective nature was felt and appreciated.
Immersing back into the land of hungover American tourists was jarring to say the least. I learned quickly that I needed to keep to myself and I did so. I was emerging out of a state of shock and was altered. Once I sat down at the gate, the reality of what I had just survived washed over me. The floodgates opened. Mascara strewn down my face, I desperately tried to remain anonymous….ineffectively I miraculously found my way onto the plane…unable to contain my emotions. Feeling, perhaps for the first time, that I was on board to go home. To return to my son. To return to my life. I was alive and I was so incredibly close to death.
As the tears washed over me, I surrendered, grabbed a bunch of tissue and allowed them to flow unconcerned with those around me and their clear uneasiness with my emotion. I survived an encounter with death and I would never censor my life again.
Returning to my car, which was parked at the hotel I had stayed at the night before I flew out…my birthday….I had treated myself to a reggae show in Denver and a hotel room at the airport. It was an adventure that I was longing for and I chose to honor it. Getting back into my car, I sat for many moments and just appreciated. I was in a space of gratitude and not in a cliché sort of way. It was pure, simple, unencumbered and embodied.
Once home, I knew that I needed to hold my experiences close. I had been blown open and I needed to be very mindful about my energy, who I shared my story and my time with. I needed time to digest and integrate and I remain in that state, however, enlivened by life itself and grateful for everyday that I get to experience it.
3 Months Later….
It has been 3 months since that fateful day in Mexico. I am forever altered and am integrating my experiences and lessons into my daily life on a personal and professional life.
I am affirmed in knowing that my practices of yoga and meditation served me during those moments, as I was able to remain calm, clear, and embodied.
I am more inspired than ever to live a full life and to never allow any seeming obstacle get in the way of fulfilling my dreams.
I am patient with myself in a way that I have never been able to be before.
I tend to my inner and outer needs fully and with compassion.
I am more present and soft with my son. I am conscious of my words with others and the impact that I am having on them.
I am committed to actualizing my work on the planet and to supporting women in their own personal peace-making process with their bodies, with themselves, and their lives.
I see my challenges as gifts, as medicine, and ultimately as a call to action on every level.
And I am choosing every single to rise to that call to the best of my ability and will continue to do so until the day arrives when it is my time to go.