After coming back to the US on August 27, 2020, I made a vow I wouldn’t move away again until I ran 100 mile race and published a book. I had some big goals to accomplish in terms of soul-driven career changes and wanted to make sure I stayed to get everything done. So, I went to school for hypnotherapy. I went to school for nature-based coaching. I completed two separate 200-hour yoga teacher trainings – one in kundalini and the other in a trauma-informed hatha vinyassa flow. I went to clairvoyance school in Boulder, I took a course on awakenings, I did two trainings in laugh yoga, I did a yoga nidra course and then I banned myself from courses (as I am doing a business course right now).
All of these schools and courses were amazing and fulfilling exactly what I’m supposed to be doing through helping others. Yet, something was missing. Something wasn’t completely fulfilling my soul. I didn’t realize what it was or what was missing. I was too busy to think about it. I was in schools, working, teaching yoga, working as a mindset coach, working as a hypnotherapist, taking classes, and consistently in a state of learning and inner-growth.
But then it happened, my dear friend David invited me to his wedding.
In Mexico.
This was the longest I’d been in the country since 2012. Still in the midst of several of the schools and courses, I felt overwhelmed by everything I was doing. I felt overwhelmed by my financial situation. I mentally said no and avoided thinking about it while hiding in a tiny mountain village and doing nothing other than studying and meditating.
I can’t leave until I get everything done, I thought. I can’t lose focus.
But one day, I broke and bought the tickets – all of them. From Denver to Mexico City to the special wedding destination and then to Baja. An extravaganza of splurging on my credit card and instantly felt regret. I hadn’t run my 100 mile race (had deferred my 2021 Leadville 100 entry already due to injury) nor had I published a book.
I sat down in my room, overlooking the snowy mountains, and decided it would be acceptable to take a two week holiday ONLY if I finished the book-length OUTLINE of my traveling life that I was handwriting every morning and if I ran 100 miles in the three weeks from purchasing the tickets to leaving for Mexico.
The next day, I started typing up the book-length outline and realized it really was the length of a book (it took a lot longer than one day to type up). Mission one, check. I also started running on the icy snow-covered highway in front of my house that was closed for the winter. I ran every day and it felt so good to get back into the routine of running. I flew to Indiana to visit my family and ran every day there, which alleviated any stress that comes with being in the Midwest.
And then it happened. One day, a few laps into my run around my sister’s neighborhood, a small, yippie little dog came running over and began nipping at my heels. I tried to gently kick it away and then used a little more force as it bit down on my ankle.
I should really have mace with me, I thought as I kept running. I always carried bear spray on my runs in Colorado but didn’t really think it was necessary in Indiana. I turned a corner and ran a few larger laps around the neighborhood, lost in my thoughts. I happened to look behind me and realized a very large pitbull, baring its teeth was running directly for me, barking furiously, and was only a few yards away.
“FUCK!” I yelled as I realized no one was around. I sprinted on the icy street to the nearest driveway and leaped on someone’s pickup truck, sliding on the ice and feeling a sharp pain in my butt. Standing on top of some random pickup truck and shaking, the pitbull was half a yard away and I realized it could also likely jump on this truck as well.
Then, out of nowhere, a child, perhaps 12, came sprinting over and grabbed the dog, yelling at it and dragged it away.
I stood there, on the truck, waiting for the owners’ to come out of the house so I could explain why I was standing on their truck. But then their dog started barking and nearly broke their front window so I jumped out of the truck and limped all the way back to Heather’s house. Then, I flew on back to Colorado where I managed to still finish my 100 miles right in time for my flight to Mexico, even with a pulled butt muscle.
Mission two, complete!
>>>>
I was in the US for way too long.
I stepped on the plane scared– scared of traveling, scared of immigration, of getting an Uber at the airport, of the food, of the water, the narcos, of everything. A few hours later, after making friends with my older male Mexican seatmate who spent the four hours teaching me Spanish and laughing, I stepped off the plane as if my soul reunited with my body once again after 18 months (which hit me so hard, I had a migraine for 24 hours).
I felt pure joy (after the migraine dissipated, of course).
Then, I stepped back into the world, laughing, eating local food and trying (poorly) to speak in another language.
The wedding of my friend David, one of my “brothers” from Berlin, was like a magical opening of a wormhole into pure bliss. Yeah, the physical aspects of the wedding certainly were amazing – the beauty of his grandfather’s ranch, the intricacy of every detail from the immaculately set tables to the perfectly timed steaming plates of tortilla steamed “Nuestra Carne” (the best steak in the world), and the never-ending stream of fancy cocktails, the lights on the amazing outdoor dance floor, and the beauty of the bride’s brilliant smile.
But the real beauty of the wedding was the outpouring of love that made this trip so special. Many of us coming from a past in Berlin and coming together for the first time in a long time. Perhaps it was the vulnerability (vulnerability is so damn sexy) of the group — the open hearts, the trust and safety with each other, but there was just pure magic in the air.
I didn’t know my heart could expand so much with so many people, but it did and then it spread out even more as we all gathered all of our love and all of our magical energy and threw it in the center of that space, watching as it swirled and danced and became one before dispersing back into each and every one of us.
After 28 hours of nearly nonstop pure wedding and after party wedding bliss (with a few hours of sleep in between), I hopped on a plane for the beaches in Baja with a lot of love pouring out of my heart. We literally saw whales jumping over the sunset (and I was almost headbutted by a male sea lion). Pure joy.
A week later, as I was flying back to the US, I woke up suddenly, sobbing hysterically into my sweatshirt propped against the window. Embarrassed, I wiped my face but the tears wouldn’t stop, so I let them flow. I looked out the window and realized we had probably just crossed the line back into the US.
Of course, I realized it isn’t the US that caused those tears to flow on the plane. I love my friends and family there. But it’s about remembering to keep my heart open and the love flowing even when going back to live in a country that has always felt so hard for me to live in.
Here, in the US, my soul can still shine.
Here, I can still love.
Here, I can tap into pure joy.
And then again, I can always hop on another plane 😉
The Joy of Traveling 