I could feel a shift as soon as my feet landed on the tarmac. I shed some layers of clothing (it was cooking hot) and though I didn’t know it yet, I also shed some of those pesky inhibitions that were cramping my Spirit’s style.
The first few days were spent lounging, reading, swimming, sunning and detoxing the stressors I left at home. The cotton candy sunsets, bold iguanas and opinionated howler monkeys took residence where the sights and sounds of city living once did.
Before I knew it relaxation had set in and running in tandem with it was the weekend.
My girlfriend and I decided to head out on the “town”. Now, by “town” I mean tiny little surf town on the edge of the Costa Rican jungle, of which you navigate by dirt roads and big smiles.
It was this night, in this town, backlit by stardust that I never knew to exist, that I met him.
Our paths crossed in a manner that only makes sense if you never question it. We fell into a state of normalcy that would historically have taken me aback. Lucky for me, I had just excavated a state of mind akin to blissful relaxation, so I decided to be Zen and just roll with it.
My mantra was something along the lines of “Tara, be Zen, roll with it, don’t question how or why....oh, and be sure to call the airlines and extend your stay”.
(FYI: My mantra was a success.)
It was a whirlwind romance that made all the sense in the world. The only issue was…I was a world away from home.
My last morning in Costa Rica pulled back the tropical blanket of my hiding spot. My two worlds were now colliding.
He drove me back to my neglected hotel (and forgiving best friend) before the sun began to rise. We parked out front sharing a very long and hesitant farewell, filled with pleas and wishes by both of us that I could stay longer (maybe forever). But home and the chattering list of life obligations began to trickle into my Zen. The only words that found their way to my voice were the ones that said I couldn’t stay. I wanted to stay…but I couldn’t.
My heart and my soul slumped their shoulders in defeat. They were ambassadors of Paradise.
Before I could let him change my mind, I kissed him one last time, hopped out of the truck and bolted toward my room without daring myself to look back.
I flung the door open and my girlfriend greeted me with a look of shock and the following words: “I can NOT believe you are coming home!”.
My response was: “I can’t believe it either”.
I packed my bag in a fury. Within minutes there was a knock at the door. My heart jumped, my soul squealed in delight. I looked at my friend and said: “It looks like I’m staying after all!”.
I whipped the door open, ready to proclaim "Ok, I'm staying!" but it wasn’t him with one last request, it was our driver letting us know he was ready to begin our long journey back to the airport where this whole adventure began.
I tucked my regret into one of my pockets, tossed our bags in the car, gave our surroundings one last look and crawled into the backseat. As I sank into my seat and closed my eyes, I did my best to reassure myself I was making the right, rational choice. Soon, the gentle rocking of driving on unpaved roads had me drifting off to sleep.
It wasn’t long into the drive that I could feel the car begin to slow and then come to a stop. I slowly opened my eyes. The dirt roads illuminated by the rising sun created a magical, dusty curtain over the countryside. I whispered to my girlfriend asking her why we stopped. Her eyes widened and she told me to look ahead, through the windshield.
That’s when I saw him.
Standing there, in the middle of the road, was a white horse so grand, so pure, so dreamlike I could hardly believe it to be true. He stood there, looking at us, unafraid, unwavering and beautiful beyond words.
My girlfriend turned to me, she held my hand and she said: “Tara, what do you think he’s saying to you?”.
I would love to tell you I listened to his message that day, turned around, drove back to my love and stayed in that little casita on the edge of the Costa Rican jungle forevermore…but I can’t.
Instead, what I can tell you is that I did, in fact, find the clarity I was searching for on that adventure in Paradise. I can tell you, with certainty, that I was forever changed. I can tell you that I married this man, barefoot with flowers in my hair, in a tiny chapel on an orchard with trees dripping in twinkle lights. I can also tell you that I believe in magical white horses who are messengers and reminders of the life you are meant to live.
Tara is a lover of yoga, bleeder of words and a bohemian city-kid who has a knack for rescuing stray animals.
She has a mean case of wanderlust and you’d be hard pressed to find her without these things:
a journal in her bag, a camera in-hand and sun kissed shoulders.
Tara writes from experience, pain, truth, triumph and that place,
deep down, where the words simmer in emotion.
