Being brought out of bed by the sound of rain, opening the door to the portals of the sky blending into oneness with the grey ocean, I'm inspired to raise my hands in admiration of the day. He smiles at me, a deeply loving and playful smile, that of a child expressing love for his mother. I don't know if I can hold all this love. Please, don't let me be the only source of love. I watch you prepare the food; chop the potatoes, slice the papaya, and fry it with salt, pepper, and the presence of your love. You ceaselessly give whenever, wherever, and however you can. There is no "no" in your heart, you only look for Yes's, the openings, the way to penetrate more deeply into the soul.
So why does my heart put up these walls, a resistance to love's embrace? Why can't I be loved like this, or like that? What am I holding onto? Or is it truly my body's wisdom that I need to listen to? Maybe it's too early for me to fall in love, or to paint the illusion of this unburstable bubble. I just want to be your intimate teacher; can we just hold each other? Why can't I just be held by you; maybe I don't need to be pounded into submission;
You saw me in the hallway of Las Gemelas; the Twins, which are the names of two rocks out of the shore of Manuel Antonio. I was already avoiding unwanted attention from another man who was coming on too strong; you looked me square in the eyes, and said "you're beautiful". If only I had known your depth at a glance. Your eyes were closed, I passed you by, and you felt the dakini's light pass through your body; only to open your eyes into mine. Who is this woman? Why do I feel this inner attraction, you say? I must express my heart for this beloved in front of me. I just laugh it off and stumble into the stall of the bathroom in a drunken swagger.
After having a night of total debauchery at the discotheque in Quepos, I return to the bar seat at Las Gemelas; I order a cold juice on a simmering hot day. You sit down next to me, join me in my avoidance of the scary world which stole my passport the day before. I'm frustrated and tired, tired of men always wanting something more from me. I use a synnacle voice, but that doesn't deter you from only being sweet to me. You call the U.S. embassy, asking what I need to do to re-issue a passport. You are only in service as you feed me bites of your breakfast plate; you already don't let me feed myself.
We check out at the restaurant and we walk, I feel your attention like the sun's heat on a blossoming flower in the summertime; we walk but I don't really care where we are going. What is it that we are looking for? Oh yeah, we are looking for my friend, but we don't find her for hours. Our journey leads us to yoga and massage and swimming on the beach. After we are pummeled by body surfing a few big waves, you lead me to fresh water. You wash the sand off my body, taking extra care around my face and forehead, and gently rub the particles off my ears. You dry every part of my body with a towel. I feel your love in every movement, every wipe is a caress from your heart, and I surrender and am enveloped in something deeper; you don't want something from me, you only want to give more, just for the sake of giving.
We walk back into town, after our baptism of fresh water, and rejoin my friends at a dinner table. I'm in total bliss, knocked off balance by this indescribable feeling, the love-struck spell of Manuel is in full-effect. Be careful what you say in Costa Rica, it might come true. If you say "Universe, I want to fall in love again" it is listening; cupids arrow knows no time, it will strike and you will be hit.
After munching some chips and salsa and talking with my friends, I realize that I forgot my hat where we rinsed out bodies; you run off to get it. You return not only with the hat, but four hand-made glass pendants; two for me, and one for each of my friends; I feel your love overflowing with gifts, again for the sake of giving. Your sacred service is off the hook. I'm in complete awe of you.
My friends want to leave town; I look at you and say, I'm going to stay with you tonight, and ride the bus back to Dominical in the morning. Shaktiva leaves, seeing how blissful I am, but warning me with her eyes to be careful.
We run off into the sunset, realizing how unreal this all is, taking photos in the gorgeous light of dusk, watching married couples utilize the light of lovers; waves crash into my soul, pulling me this way and that, I feel everything.
You crash into me, like the biggest and wettest wave, then bringing me safely to shore in your arms. You work out every tension in my body with your force. Blue cosmic storm, you can't help but blow the heavenly force of wind and water into my every pore, inside and out, shaking anything out that needs to leave my body. Cleansed, and washed with your sweat, we retire into the midnight air, only to awaken at dawn with God's light.
We rise just before dawn, stumbling with no food or water into the national park, alone, before anyone else ruins the path with human footprints. It's just you, me, and the jungle. Silently we walk through the morning air, stopping here and there to admire the creation of Lila before us. I can't help but feel the pull of the tides on my heart. We end our excursion with a mad sprint to the ocean. You fly by me with your thick and powerful legs, faster than a horse, like the most powerful animal on earth, you are. We once again take off our clothes and bathe in the ocean.
You slice the mango before me this morning, days later, with furious passion; you give me sample bites of fruit as you arrange the rest as the most holy fruit mandala, drizzled with honey and love. You are so ridiculous, I can't help but surrender to your greatness. You are best when in service, slicing, lifting, hammering, tending, washing, cleaning me with love.
We went to the waterfalls, not knowing what Creation had in store for us. We lay under the pummeling water, screaming with delight, pleasure, and terror. There's nothing stronger than Nature's fury, nothing more humbling than the power of wind and water, gravity and grace. I scream with delight, knowing that I can be taken at any moment. I really have no say in when I go. When mama wants to take me home, I am going, for there is no force to counteract that of death. No amount of anger or light to challenge God's light. I scream in delight and terror; this edge of life and death is so thrilling; I crash into the water, seeking land after the Nauyaca's falls thoroughly plummet into my soul. You join me in a tantric moment. Two love birds play and chirp above us, acknowledging our connection. They pirch up on the rocks, in the shape of a heart; just happy to be with one another. They let out one more playful song for us, tickling our hearts into joy. I can't believe what is before me. We rise to hike back down the mountain; the birds sing and fly over our heads.
What does this all mean? I'm not sure. I'm just trying to come into greater appreciation. Can I just receive, be graceful, surrender and appreciate this man before me? Why is love hard for me to sink into; my independence of self is stronger than that, or so I think.
You sneak up behind me, share a kiss and wrap me up in warmth. For now, just for this moment, I surrender into your love. Me encantan, mi amor.
