Letting Go and Diving in(to) an Inverted Volcano)

I write this blog post in my warm cozy home, wearing my Llama onesie, drinking ginger tea, while outside Santa Fe is being graced with its first formidable snow. It is a week before Thanksgiving and my heart cup overflows with so much to be grateful for. For the awesome magic and mystery of being alive, of feeling the deep waters within swirl and the reflection of the swirling cosmos dancing above. For the tenderest of warm air touching my skin from the space heater to the gaels of wind blowing white perfect snowflakes outside. For the ability to shed and change and grow. With every glorious inhale and every miraculous exhale. For the power of love to shake me raw, humbled with awe.

Raw and humbled with awe is a fitting description for how I find myself. Last week I was moving and singing and praying with 15 other magical beings in the heart of Guatemala, held by the deepest lake in Central America, Lake Atitlan, which was created by a caldera. The three Grandfather Volcanoes - Atitlan, San Pedro, and Toliman also stood witness. I moved, cried, and sang spontaneous songs of yearning and sadness and joy and forgiveness to the lake, to the land, to my fellow travelers. Together we wove a powerful container with the generous guidance of our guardians, Munay and Sean Tebor. I shed many layers of sludge and calcified memories and grief and rage and allowed the soft lush landscape to bathe me in beauty. To plump me up with moisture so that I could cry more tears of thanks.

All of this beauty culminated in the crowning glory of letting go on the last day of my journey. After a very bumpy, smoggy shuttle to the airport at 4 in the morning, standing amidst crowds of people hurrying to catch their flights, I dropped to the ground in front of the money exchange booth and vomited, not once, but three times onto the floor and myself. The day before I had received food poisoning from eating salmon at a 5 star hotel in Antigua. That night was touch and go, with lots of visits to the bathroom and hot electricity racing through my veins. Sitting on the floor in the airport, it felt like the universe took a squeegee, and said “There! Now you have fully let go. Now you can be reborn.” That last bit of ego pride released unceremoniously onto the linoleum floor, witnessed not by silent volcanoes but by bustling strangers, and me, hoping someone would help.

And someone did. A woman handing me paper towels. A man with a mop. And my dear friend, sister, and soul teacher with serenity and strength and encouraging words. To accept help with all my raw, messy, vulnerable self exposed cracked me wide open. So that the pure, unadulterated river of gratitude and love and heart connection can flow, true and unencumbered. So that the deeper songs in my bones, are heard and remembered. Songs that remind me of the gift of an open extended hand, offering help. Reminding all of us we are not alone.

Sunrise, Lake Atitlan