As my time in Costa Rica comes to a close, I’ve been sitting with stillness.
Not just external quiet; but the kind of stillness that speaks.
The me that showed up here was searching.
The me that’s leaving? She’s found a kind of peace no map could offer.
Not because everything’s figured out.
But because I’ve finally stopped asking for permission to become who I already am.
This trip reminded me of why I said yes in the first place.
To find truth.
To face truth.
To be truth.
I’ve formed community with strangers, met new plant allies, and spent time with myself in ways I hadn’t before.
But I’ve also remembered something more important than all of that:
🪷 I am a medicine woman. In the making, but real nonetheless.
🪷 I am called to help heal my people.
🪷 I am grounded in ancestral wisdom that doesn’t need validation.
And yet, I won't ignore the truth of this field either.
I’m not blind to the gatekeeping, the commodification of plant medicine, or how easy it seems for some to gain visibility in spaces my people built through suffering and spiritual resilience.
I am not bitter.
I am not resentful.
But I am aware.
Still~I rise.
Still~I lead.
Still~I pour into my community because I know what we carry.
And I know what we need.
This experience showed me what real healing looks like.
It’s not soft lights and sound baths alone.
It’s honesty.
It’s grief.
It’s asking yourself the hard questions and answering them out loud.
It’s balancing motherhood, relationships, mental health, and purpose without losing yourself.
I don't know all the steps yet.
But I trust the rhythm.
I trust the roots.
I trust me.
Costa Rica wasn’t just a retreat, it was a rebirth.
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