A guy broke up with me because he thought I was a hotel princess. I’ll admit I was a bit taken aback when a multi-millionaire ( a verified fact), had me sit through a time share presentation so we could get a deal on a hotel room. I understand poor. I abhor cheap. He was just looking for an excuse to cheat on me, so he made me out to be an ingrate and hotel snob. I’d like to see his sorry ass deal with my tree house for 21 days. Princess this, cheating asshole.
The dogs bark throughout the night in some sort of alpha canine contest of wills and lungs. When they finally exhaust themselves, the roosters pick up where they left off. Day two and I am over it. When I go back home, I can guarandamntee you that when I sing Old McDonald with my two-year-old grandson, River, he won’t have any roosters or dogs on his farm. If he insists, I’ll change my tune to Wheels on the Bus.
I sleep in the other room to mix things up a bit and keep things interesting. I am hopeful that it is cooler. It isn’t. The rain pelted again during the night, temporarily drowning out the sounds of the damn dogs. Relief comes in odd ways around here.
Morning comes early but I am happy to try the new coffee I bought. The Costa Rican coffee contraption is something out of pioneer woman or Jane of the Jungle. I miss my DeLonghi. But I am feeling like a badass because I have to light the gas cooktop with a real match and fill the rusting coffee pot with filtered water. The drip coffee contraption looks like a wind sock. You fill it with coffee and pour the hot water through it and the result is surprisingly good coffee. The old fashioned way is the only way here. Kiana doesn’t like machines.
Morning is my meditation time but I am eager to write because, as of yesterday, I had one follower! Thank you, Chantelle. I’ve been shooting off emails guilting and pleading all my friends to spread the good news. Jody Mayo is writing a blog! Stop the presses and alert the media and Hay House Publishing ( and if anyone knows them – call Reed or Louise). Tell them my stuff is good.
Since I am at the beach, I decide that I should take my God walk there. It’s 6:30 am and my pulse is pumping with caffeine. In one direction is a man that can’t seem to figure out what he’s doing and my Kiana security radar stands at attention. In the other direction, the great, white pony and his puppy partner have a black dog cornered in the water. They won’t let him pass go and I am afraid he will drown with each crashing wave that engulfs him. Mighty Mouse doesn’t like two on one anything ( remember, no triangles), so I take a huge stick and walk down to break up the dogfight. These canines are disrupting my serenity. Flash, I think is the name of Kiana’s big ,white bully dog. It turns out he is all bark and cowers at the sight of me hollering at him to leave the poor black dog alone. My flight or fight adrenaline is flowing, and I am not sure how this will end for the dogs or me. But they back off and run away. Badass success!
The mile stretch of sand is curiously black as night, mulatto and white as fine flour depending on the way the waves shift. There is a washed ashore barge at the far end of the beach near town and I head that way, stopping to cool myself in the waves. Huge trees wash up on the shore- it’s not drift wood, it’s drift trees. It would not be pleasant to swim into a log, I think, as I scan for a deforested part of the sea.
It’s nice on the beach and I meditate and thank God for the new followers, certain that like the fish and loaves of bread, my blog will soon feed the masses with hope, humor and humanity.
When I get back from my walk and swim, a gardener is busy hacking away at the encroaching greenery and vines with a machete. People are the weed wackers here. Machines would only smother the sounds of barking, cackling and screeching all around. The mother bird is not happy with the broom where her nest used to be and she starts some furious swooping around me. It could be my imagination, but I think she’s told a few friends. The birds are not happy with me.
I’m excited for breakfast because I have papaya, bananas, yogurt and granola. I belong here. The papaya slices like softened butter and I scoop out its belly of black seeds and obediently place them in the compost bin. The bananas are perfectly ripe, although I am now somewhat unhappy about bananas in general or maybe at Dole for raping the rainforests and protecting bunches of bananas with blue plastic.
In this ego-less and makeup-less existence and I am free to walk around with unpolished nails and toes. There is no one to impress or to dress up for and I am free. It feels good and liberating.
In the world of spirit, everyone is beautiful and equal. In the domain of ego, people are better and less than. Egos pillage, pollute and pick pocket; spirits replenish and repair. When my ego starts dominating, I am keenly aware because it’s all about me and my fears or regrets. When I am one with my spirit, I am good exactly where I am and faith kicks the shit out of my fears. Call me granola or left-of-center but there is something real to all this.
I am sitting in Costa Rica writing for you and that is a miracle. There is a yearning in my soul that I can no longer ignore and I don’t want to. I want to walk straight through my fear into my destiny and I hope that you will stick with me through the journey. And then, I hope, you start your own walk with passion and toward purpose.