Journals from the Jungle XIV: Reverence
I wish we could be forever.
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Welcome to Journals from the Jungle—a series of stories from my recent travels, drawn straight from the pages of my journals. These are reflections on breaking free from a life of structure, convention, and societal expectations, and finding my way back to an embodied, authentic self. Through journeys in nature—and into the nature of self—through adventure, challenge, rest, and the dramatic dismantling of old beliefs, I explore themes of freedom, pleasure, love, and the strength that comes from shedding what no longer serves us. I hope these stories inspire you to embrace change, reclaim your vitality, and live more freely.
5/28/24
It’s time to surf. Conditions look excellent and ideally challenging but doable for me. Let’s see if all those push-ups I did in NYC did any good …
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That was so fun!! I did it. Straight into that long paddle out, turtle-rolling better, stronger, and without fear. Taking some on the head, also without fear. Chasing waves, missing some, making some, riding, and digging my way through the break, over and over again. When coach offered a break, I declined it, saying I wanted more. We move away from the other surfers and are all alone in the morning sunlight atop the gentle sea behind the impact zone. He says, “I like that we are here. It’s better away from all the people.” I said, “In general.” We laugh and then …
… I catch a joyous right, riding it all the way in. It feels amazing and I laugh to myself, waiting for him to ride one in too. He does, playing by sitting on his knees, then on the board, then standing up. I hop on the wave too and we ride into the beach on our bellies, grinning. He’s so happy with my session, and so am I. And it’s so beautiful out there—no one on the beach and the glittering mirror behind us. I feel stronger, for sure, and without the jitters of the earlier days, which feels a little bittersweet—already that fear, should I want it, will have to be sought again.
Coach sits us down to teach me about the tides, drawing in the sand, which is unnecessary (they all do it) and makes me smirk. “Pay attention,” he says, “this is important for you to know because you live here now.”
~
Post-surf: Before, it came out of me in weeping, but now it’s grins and laughs and little squeals as I float home full of endorphins. I don’t want to leave the beach. The site of the happening—of this happening to me, being done to me. I just sit there, laughing and giddy and trembling, and then my laugh turns into a gentle cry of joy. This afterglow … I want to protect it. Prolong it, to bathe. I want to do nothing else in order to allow it to persist, to ripple through me. What a drug, what a high. It’s like being made love to.
I can hear the silence now, on the jungle walk home. I feel reverent. I feel the air on my skin, the breeze on my cheeks. All of my favorite things are here. What a gift to feel new feelings at this age. I mean, isn’t this what it’s all about? Damn.
Dinner: By the light of my phone as the power is out. Computer is dead too, and I have no candles. It’s pitch dark now and I don’t want my phone to run out of battery too. The house is pleasant though. Not hot despite no AC and so quiet. I open the doors to listen to the sounds of the jungle.
5/29/24
It takes me this long to realize that: this is one of the most meaningful times of your entire life. Don’t worry about figuring anything out right now. Just enjoy it!
~
Another beautiful surf session. Paddling out, I feel my lack of urgency, my strength and calm, efficiency and patience. When we reach the outside, we sit and rest as the sun rises into a clear blue sky above us—yesterday’s rains having created a crystalline morning today. I feel especially happy and try to look often at all of it, to take in the full scene, to soak it in—all all all. I catch waves and ride well. My leash disconnects from the board once, but we’re able to reattach it and continue the session. I’m working much more on my own now, than dependent on the coach’s calls of instruction. I go until I can’t anymore and debate trying for one more, but see him riding in on a wave, high in the sky.
We sit on the beach and chat. He tells me I can buy shrimp and lobster at the fish market and he explains how to cook the lobster with garlic and butter, which his mom taught him. All of the Ticos cook—men and women—many of the boys especially having left home very early and learned to fish and forage and grow and cook and earn and care for themselves.
I tell him what I realized about this special time for me. “Yes, is important to enjoy these things,” he says. “Memories go so quick,” I say. “Yeah. I wish we could be forever.”
~
I go to the fish market and buy catches of the day. I cook dorado. I look at the calendar for the first time in sometime, trying to sense if there’s a date in the future that seems to imply when I should return to NYC. Doing so makes me want to head in the other direction, though: deeper in, here. Less phone, less looking out or ahead, less accessible, more immersed. I carve fresh papaya, and notice how tan my skin is now. I feel strength in new places, and the constant joy. I wonder what I’m going to do with this next phase of life, and care not to consider it further than that for now.
5/30/24
Lightly raining this morning. I sleep hard and fast, up early without an alarm. Happy, though sad that my coach is leaving for many weeks to teach in the south of the country. It’s hard to imagine surfing with someone else after all he’s taught me. I think about how the magic and beauty of falling in love with this place will only happen one time and so, I ought not to rush it. And I wonder how many times I’ve looked around here in awe of this life—of the unbelievability of the beauty of it—of what I’ve taken, made, and been given. What all. That overtakes me today. <3
No surfing today and I wonder how I should spend the time. Perhaps, finishing my manuscript, and turning it in …
Instead I set out on a long walk, nearly three hours, to town and back. The power goes out again and I become nearly euphoric with relief as I’m cut off from all communication. I feel free. Is that why I like being alone so much, is that why Dad did too? Is it not about aloneness, but rather about freedom?
Happy dinner in silence.
5/31/24
Post-surf alone: A bit of a banger in the sense that I got a bit beat up, but don’t mind—got what I needed from the session. Walked an hour home while avoiding my phone. I take a delicious nap and then meet a new friend at a local shop before coming home to prepare the manuscript for delivery. Also: considering book titles, speaking of surreal experiences …
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I would agree…about freedom 💕