THE MOMENTUM OF INTENTION

Just back from a long walk across northern Spain meant to clear my mind and body for a new chapter, I sat at the long table-like desk in my downtown loft contemplating my new direction in life.

A former client rang me with some news.  “I’m moving to Mexico,” she said.

Huh.  Interesting.  I opened the door for her to expand.  After discussing her own life, circumstances, ideas, and purpose, she said the one thing that piqued my curiosity most.  “The peso is at 18,” she said.

This only meant something to me because my travels throughout the region a decade prior, the peso was at 11.  This meant my US Dollars could now go further.  Much further.  And before my mind could run away with what that could potentially mean for me, my heart began to flutter.  I felt more awake than I’d felt in months.  I felt alive; something in me had been activated.

Later that night, I lie in bed contemplating the meaning of that stirring - what was it about the message or prompt was I meant to hold onto or run with?  Was it about moving? specifically to Mexico? Or was it about the value of my earnings, doing more with what I made? Taking better care of my body, mind and spirit?

I started to contemplate all of the outcomes.  Now that my work was officially remote, I was interested in what it might be like to be mobile, satisfying the nomadic impulse that had been calling me all my life.  The answers to that call in previous eras came in the form of a trip here or an escape there, culminating in my most recent, most lengthy, and most revealing adventure on the Camino de Santiago.  It was there, over a month-long journey on foot, that I learned that I loved the freedom of being mobile, but not necessarily the ungrounded nature of being in perpetual motion.  I would have to have some sort of a base from which to explore.

As the moments of contemplation turned into minutes and hours, everything in me was rising up to meet this new possibility.  My emotions were stirring and I felt the openness within me responding to the idea of what it would be like to step into this lifestyle.  Some desires had already been percolating within me.  I knew I wanted to become fluent in at least one other language.  I wanted something different for my body- more nature, more time outdoors, more self-care.  I could feel myself smiling from the inside, looking forward toward a future that hadn’t dawned on me nor would have felt possible until suggested on that phone call.

Ahhh, ease. My body leaned into that feeling.

If I did go to Mexico, where would I choose?  I had had the privilege of traveling to many regions of that country, but one location stood out.  I had been there many times as a tourist on short-term vacation.  Beach.  Sun.  Sand.  Tropical flowers and fruits, fresh seafood and jaw-dropping views.  Dusty roads and the joys of a relaxed lifestyle.  The exact opposite of what I had been living.

Suddenly, the hellacious raucous scraping of metal and stone and drywall plummeting down a metal chute from the building next door pulled me out of my daydream with a roar.  I literally ducked as the raging flow of material dropped, sounding as though a 747 was coming through the window.  Needless to say, this current state of local construction was actively amplifying my desire for change.  This was just the beginning of a new hotel project, one of several in my immediate surroundings as the neighborhood desirability escalated, so the constant disturbance was inevitable for the foreseeable future.

My nervous system couldn’t take much more.  It was constantly activated, protecting me from what sounded like the end of the world raging through the walls of my apartment.

Ugh, angst.

“Just bring those beautiful thoughts back for 17 seconds,” I told myself, acknowledging the threshold where the universe would respond to and amplify my intention.

Sun, Sand, healing waters of the ocean, inhale . . . .breathing in sunlight . . . exhale . . . releasing stress.

Ok.  Ease again.

I set more specific intentions around what I wanted the experience to be.  From where and how I wanted to live, to who I might meet and how I might expand myself to how much I’d ideally like to spend on the adventure.

My post-camino purge of belongings put me in a position to move quickly.  I sold my car and booked my flight.  Arriving on the ground, accompanied by only one suitcase, I noticed everything around me.  The warmth of the smiles on the faces that greeted me were as warm as the sun that seemed to nourish me to the bone.  The not-fancy but well-kept taxicab, the scent of tropical flowers in the air.  Through a series of exchanges and friendly locals, I landed smack dab in the middle of the vision I had created right there in my city apartment from twelve hundred miles away.

A minimalist apartment perched high on a cliff with breathtaking views of the pacific ocean.  A wraparound patio that welcomed the cool air off the mountains in the mornings and provided cinema-worthy sunsets in the evenings.  Complete with a tiny bathtub which I understood through later conversations to be unheard of for that region.

Was it the newness that made it feel easier?  More exciting?

Leaning into the simple life included a layer of complexities as well — navigating another language and currency on a daily basis, relying more on the subtleties of body language and facial expressions to infer meaning from words I could not understand.  Walking everywhere or learning the public transportation system.  The heat, the humidity. And fragile moments like finding myself standing on the side of the road, in tears, with bags full of groceries, having underestimated how difficult it would be to get a cab on a Sunday morning.

But still, my soul felt alive, awake.  My work took on a new dimension and a new meaning.  As I made my way in this part of the world, the people drawn to me were exactly what I had been hoping for -  kind, interesting, adventurous, tuned in to nature and energy, spirituality and healing.

As I continued to assimilate, the new faces turned into friends, my language skills developed, and I got the lay of the land for the most part. On an early morning, perched high above the ocean, the morning light just breaking, the sea still calm, decaf coffee in hand, I curled onto my favorite cushion against the railing of my terrace and drank in my surroundings.  The light splash of the waves on the shore below, the songs of the birds I ‘d never heard before, and the sleepy hillside below slowly coming to life, I reflected.

The back and forth of the ease and angst was all just information pointing me toward my next steps and desired outcomes.  Bringing me into alignment with a beautiful new chapter.  One that brought years of beauty and blessings that continue to shape my life.  And I gave thanks, for all of it.