Ode to Costa Rica

My Dear Envisionaries,

Visionaries. Valkyries. Valor.

Consider me the standard bearer, maybe the trumpeter, in battle. I am not concerned with crushing a foe, I am here to embrace the absurdity of existence and revel and stoke the energy.

There is no fear here. Or, rather the radical acceptance that fear and shame are reasonable. Live life with mistakes, we will still embrace and reconcile. So far from home, the connections are thin. Spider silk light beams between us. The days might be hard, nothing will go perfectly, and time will wear on even the most grounded stones. But one day we will rejoin and feed our sacred fires again. And all the days between will be worthwhile steps on our long and fortuitous journeys.

Let me lament for a moment though. I miss Costa Rica. I miss the people, and their open hearts. I miss the pleasure of vegan ice cream in the heat. I miss the sounds of the jungle, uproarious cacophony of chaotic calls, flashes of fur and feathers, sharing circadian rhythm with crickets.

I miss the sunsets, daily appointments to the setting sun.

Here in New York City, the jungle is different, it stares back into you when you stare into it. Rarely does the rainforest give you such acknowledgement; it is busy in it’s own existence, insignificance tastes distinct. Coconut tastes delicious.

But on the sidewalks, you can tell when people notice your presence and then choose, out of fear or tiredness or ego, to bury deeper into their phones or shift to avoid your open gaze. Coffee is 4$ a cup. Dinner requires dishes. The next F train is 25 minutes away.

It happens everywhere of course. People are forever in their own narratives. It is hard to be anywhere else, between the active empathy and the death of self, a monumental state of enlightenment is difficult to maintain.

Yet, if and when we recognize that duality in each other, we invoke presence. Your ability to hold space for the complicated, my ability to communicate with honesty and openness and un-assumption.

Once written, the past is unchanging, each of us with a pen for ourselves and ink for each other.

Time is malleable to magicians. Wounds can be healed by healers.

Magic does exist outside of our little corner of the world, but it is harder to find and holding light as a lantern to welcome others is exhausting. In New York probably more than anywhere else, because the love is here, but it’s spread thin between the loud, the lost, the seeking, and the tourists. (quick Beloved Communtea shout out!)

I imagine that some of you feel the same. I hope many of you return to nests that are comfortable and secure, nourishing and beautiful. But for those who have to put in energy to keep your house tidy, I understand. I exist with you. The joy of being clean, the weight of responsibility, the dusty corners that tired hands can’t be bothered with. These are barely the challenges, but that’s not an invitation for more.

I could drop duties in Costa, but here they are required.

It is necessary to devote intentions to regular, basic maintenance. Non-negotiable. Then add the mundane realities of existence. Time becomes much harder to carve out in-between taxes and paychecks. Family affairs change from check-in texts and photos of friends to detonating and diffusing the same generational bombs.

Naps help.

So does coffee.

And phone calls. Pure joy in reconnecting with the collective consciousness, relief that the root of love is still there, waiting. I feel so far away when everyone around is so unconscious, self-conscious, judgmental. Washing away the stares. These strangers are not nearly as interested as workshopping. Where are my friends?

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This isn’t meant to be a piece simply lambasting my homelife. In all honesty, it’s filled with blessings and gratitude, from friends and family, material and spiritual wealth, safety, security, habit, domicile. But integrating the lessons from Envision is hard, only made harder so far from the source. The heat, the sand, the surf, the stars, the sun. The communities and their gatherings.

We know each other when we are ourselves.

It’s so pleasant when the circles close and I can recognize the magic in it’s traces. Small clicks as things fall into place.

Patience. Especially in New York.

Nothing is meant to be perfect. I have a perfectionist streak a mile wide. It’s a challenge, but it’s also a blessing. I wouldn’t have all this abundance if I didn’t work for it.

I’m still working. Harder than ever. I hold more capacity for labor and play, grace and discipline. That’s growth.

I hope all of you are working too.

I cannot wait to bask in our shine again. I cannot wait to learn how this year has challenged you, and how you’ve still found power in it. Polish the mirror and see yourself clearly, in all that love. Even when the horizon is cloudy.

Envision is merely a few months away. And though the waves might be tall, the ride will be exhilarating. I would never bet on the storms to swamp the sailors. Experience makes these weathered hands steadier.

Chaotic mess. Clear heart. Captain Crunch. Collab and co-create. Consciously yours,

Winston