I’m a city girl. I’ve been used to heels, makeup, nice cars, fake nails, and the fast-paced corporate life for as long as I can remember. I’ve lived in Miami all my life. Living in a city like Miami and being a part of the fast-paced day and nightlife, I was always in a hurry for work and play. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun. I lived where everyone wanted to vacation and knew how to enjoy it. I partied, dressed, danced, and mingled with some of the best of Miami. I then realized I had written my pain away in my journals for years. I decided to take them all and read through them. I realized that my words seemed the same year after year. Nothing ever changed except for maybe fashion, music, and friends. I lived this way for years until, at 55, I found myself like the 15-year-old in those pages. This time, I looked in the mirror and said. Yeah, so you have problems…what will you do about it?
November of 2016 came. I was at work minding my own business to get things done. An HR rep came in to read me a letter. “We regret to inform you .”Well, I’m sure you know what happened. After 17 years, they told me my position would no longer exist. OMG, right before my 55th birthday and at Christmas? You’re kidding! Now I have to look for work. SHIT!
Wait a minute, what am I doing? Am I going to go back to my old life of working my ass off for the same thing? I knew I had to work hard but for me? What do I do? Something that does not fulfill me? What the hell was I thinking? Then it hit me; I had been writing a book from all those journals for years. But me, an Author? For the first time in my life, I listened to someone else. Someone I didn’t even know. Her name? Amy R. Brooks. Her words about everyone having a story were just what I needed to confirm what I had in my heart. I knew I had many stories—some more serious than others, but all with a high degree of interest to many needing help. I figured I would give it a shot. I have always had an interest in going to a retreat. This “Writer’s Retreat came like a direct answer. I had many journals and many writings that belonged to me. Then I thought, “Maybe they can help someone.” So, I booked my retreat to organize my writing and officially work on my book. Then it came: I stepped foot in Costa Rica. “This can’t be,” I thought. “It just can’t be true,” But, yes. It was!
After a day on the beautiful beaches within the glass-looking ocean, we headed to the Rain Forest. When we arrived, I felt I was in surreal scenery. I imagined it many times, being in a place like this, but I never thought I would have the courage to do it. I went for a walk barefoot. I stood in the stream behind the house. The water was cold and so bright you could drink it. I was in heaven. Coming from the city and never being able to see nature like this gave me a sense of gratitude for the miracles manifested in the beautiful works around me. I knew this experience would be the beginning of many new things.
I love the morning in The Living Forest. It’s quiet and distant. I sat on the floor, looking up at the sky where the tallest tree stood as if taking care of all the other trees. I decided to go for a walk in the morning circle. Walking barefoot was beautiful. My inner child was walking in the rain, happy as can be. The ground was mushy and soft. It felt like a thick, wet carpet. I stood there looking at my dirty feet with wet, mushy dirt and mud between my toes. The pedicure I got before coming was with all the ground roughness. A minor bug crawled, and I didn’t jump in fear. Here, I am not too concerned about that. The external beauty I’m looking for is all around me.
As I walked around taking pictures of all the magnificence around me, I saw it. There’s a swing hanging from the most insignificant tree. She is smaller than most trees and crooked. Smaller plants grow from her. They are taking nutrients and support from this unlikely tree, serving as a host. The tree is different from what most people would pay attention to in a forest like this; there are some spectacular-looking trees.
Nevertheless, it was the first tree I saw when I arrived and the first one I fell in love with. Why? Because it was smaller than the others, less extravagant than the others, and there was stuff growing from all areas of the tree. It doesn’t stand tall like the other trees. But it’s the one holding the empty swing. I’m a little lonely and crooked, but I’m still home to my swing. This unseemly small tree lives amongst the other prodigious trees in the forest. She knows she is loved, even if she is far away. She knows I will see her again and sit under her leaves and branches as I enjoy another ride on the empty
swing.