Category: mexico

Past Lives

Posted in 30s, Dating, Love, mexico, self-discovery, solo travel, Travel, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

Do you ever feel so inexplicably melancholic in moments of great joy?

I do. Often. And until recently, I didn’t know how to categorize this mysteriously gloomy, yet deeply glorious emotion.

After consulting my encyclopedic friend Dylan, I know now this feeling has a name. Actually it has a few names, depending on where you’re from.

Here’s what the internet says:

Japanese – Mono No Aware: “Literally translates to “the pathos of things.” But more loosely, it could also mean “the beauty of things passing.” As an emotion, it falls somewhere between sorrow and serenity. And so, to feel mono no aware is to experience impermanence, the inevitability of change, and the tranquility of transience — often all these things at once.” (Joppich, 2023).

Portuguese – Saudade: “Saudade is an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone. It is often associated with a repressed understanding that one might never encounter the object of longing ever again.” (Wiki)

And then there’s the sort of related Korean concept of In-Yun (brought to light by the recent film, Past Lives), which is the belief that the interactions of two people in this life are owed to interactions in their past life. But that makes my brain bleed.

Instead, this post is about my addiction to the nostalgia of my past lives, from this lifetime.

And this is what I’ve discovered so far…

The Pull of the Past

I have an extensive list of past lives that I regularly ruminate over.

From trips I’ve taken, to countries I’ve lived in, to the relationships I’ve experienced, I get a heartbreaking thrill out of revisiting those eras. And not just in my head, honey. I’ve been known to travel back to the scene of the crime. To somehow recreate the romanticized version of that time. To reconnect with my loves in an attempt to live out an unfulfilled future. To rage war against my saudade.

If you’re one of the zero people that have read all of my posts from the last 10 years, it’s very easy to see my pattern of pursuing the past. For those of you that aren’t familiar, I’ll spare you the timeline. But trust me, I’m a chronic chaser. Of love. Of adventure. Of being everything, everywhere, all at once.

We all, to some degree, romanticize our pasts. We wonder what our lives would have looked like if we had taken that job, stayed in that city, married that guy. In my case, as I just mentioned, I tend to take that wonder to the next level. I often leave the chapters of my prior lives open, with a few blank pages, just in case I’m inspired to go back and write a different ending.

Is that crazy?! Maybe. Are my spirit guides shaking their heads and wondering if I’ve learned nothing about the art of letting go of the past to be fully present? For sure. But it’s also been a helpful (albeit unconventional) way of sorting out this weird and wonderful life. When I revisit my past, I often clarify present perplexities and feel inspired for future adventures.

Like the recent trip that kicked off this previous life pondering in the first place…

The Past, Presently

OK, we can talk about Bruno now.

Last month, I had an extra week off for the holidays. So, I booked a ticket to revisit one of my former lives in Los Cabos, Mexico. My only expectations were to see friends, eat tacos, and sip mezcalitas.

The surprise bonus of the trip was seeing my ex, Bruno, and feeling the deep love and appreciation we still have for each other. We made light of things that, in the past, were so heavy. We were playful and affectionate. We joked about a sperm donation before I turned 40 (I mean, maybe? He does have very good genes…). All in the spirit of our now platonic relationship. (And when your present Miami prospect is in a disappointing downturn, an admiring encounter with a former love is VERY good for the soul!)

Needless to say, my mono no aware was off the charts in Cabo, but for the first time I totally surrendered to the sorrow and serenity of the impermanence of it all. I deeply appreciated that particular past life for what it was, without ruminating. Without trying to recreate it. I made new memories in that moment and accepted the inevitability of change. I was fully present, utterly at ease.

And, I finally came to a peace agreement with my saudade.

So, you know what? If you’re feeling nostalgic, do a delicious deep dive into your 100,000 photos of the past. Let the saudade sink into your bones. Cry. Contemplate. Curse the screen. Call a friend. Lean in. Let go. Laugh hard. Be inspired. Book a plane ticket. Bask in the beauty of all you have experienced and how far you’ve come. It’s all part of your story. And, it all matters.

As long as you can embrace the tranquility of trancience, you’ll enjoy the ride.

I’ll leave you with a few photos from a recent past life, taken by B, on a very mono no aware kind of day.

37 & Thriving

Posted in Backpacking, camping, Dating, Love, mexico, peru, self-discovery, self-help, solo travel, teaching, Travel, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , Leave a comment

God, it feels good to be back in London.

The pubs, the boys, the tube. The perfect place for a holiday escape.

Indeed, I made a few escapes last year. From Mexico to the Amazon to Brunswick, Georgia…2022 had me discovering life in weird and wonderful ways.

And, as I turned 37 in the middle of the Peruvian jungle, I reflected on how far I’ve come and how much I’ve grown.

Boundaries, breakups and medicinal branches…here’s a look back on how 2022 helped this human thrive.

My Work

I kicked off the year with the worst job of my life.

Now, I had no intention of ever going back into a middle school classroom. Ten years of teaching hundreds of students, I had put in my time. Done my due diligence. Survived the insanity. But, after months of contemplation during my hiatus in Peru, I had decided to return to Miami to buy an apartment and finally create a real home base for myself. But this meant getting a job asap so the bank would give me a mortgage loan.

So, I went back to the battle ground. This time, at an alternative school in a low-income, high-crime neighborhood in North Miami.

Dr. H., with all her post-Peru good vibes only namaste energy, was met with fist-fights and curse-outs. Desk-flipping and book-throwing. It wasn’t long before I was experiencing full-blown panic attacks as I ran out of the classroom crying on a daily basis. This was trauma-informed teaching at the highest level, and I was ill-equipped.

I took many mental health days, and set boundaries so I could crawl back and show up. I was determined not to give up on myself or my students (and turns out, all I had to do was a few TikTok dances to completely gain the trust and admiration of my students…bam!). Still, it was the hardest 6 months of my teaching career.

Sadly, the real estate market was just as traumatic, and, after a handful of rejected offers, I tapped out of the property hunger games.

So, yeah. The spring was chaos.

Then the summer saw a classic Holly attempt at giving love a chance and reconnecting with an old Mexican flame only to quickly extinguish the fire and head back to Miami where the fall had so much more in store for me.

I started my first university job as an adjunct professor (absolutely YES to college students!) and I spent the rest of my time chipping away at building a nonprofit idea I have had for many years. And, I actually did it. Like, you can go donate RIGHT HERE to help fund international learning trips for deserving students and be a flagship donor for a worthy program!

So, yeah. My work is back on track. All I had to do was break down with my students, break up with my boyfriend and break out of my insecurities to create the purpose-driven career of my dreams. It’s a work in progress. But I’m progressing.

My Love Life

For a free spirit like me, being single is second nature.

My obsession with newness has led to a collection of love stories fit for a novel. But not for forever.

I follow the fleeting and avoid the available. I’m thrilled by the chase and terrified by tradition. Safe is scary. Risky is sexy. I am a stereotypical sagittarius, after all.

The 2021-2022 romantic season was dominated by two such ephemeral affairs. 2 men, 2 years, 2 countries and 2 chapters in my Book of Love. No happily ever after. But I still got my thrill.

From the outside, it may appear that I’ve given up on settling down. But, actually, I’m redefining what settling down means for me. Maybe I continue to have beautiful relationships all around the world that break me open and bring me closer to myself. Or, maybe I have a love child and co-parent with a partner as we overland across Africa. Or, perhaps, my love life will take an unexpected turn for the traditional with a marriage and mortgage and managing mommy duties.

(I’ve said the word mortgage twice in one post…what’s happening?)

Either way, I’m here for it. Open. Excited. Up for the adventure. Not getting trapped in the worry of age or expectations or insecurities (I mean I have my moments). Trusting the process. Savoring the moment. Leading with love. Loving myself. Starting to truly believe in what I deserve. All the things.

Actually, I have a lot more to say on this subject. My love life deserves its own juicy, gritty, examined post. Stay tuned.

My Awakening

People say you don’t find Mama Aya…she finds you.

But, I decided to go to her house in the Amazon and kindly knock on her door. You know, to make it easier for her to find me.

And, find me she did.

Now, sitting in a sacred ceremony, sipping on ancient plant medicine, and traveling through time and space is not an easy experience to explain. There were divine messages in many forms, a vibrational energy connecting everything, and my inner child narrating it all. It was a mind, body, and soul reset on the deepest level. Indeed, what happened to me in the jungle was the most transformative experience I’ve ever had the privilege to be a part of.

Mama Aya, The Truth, The Source, The Light, God…whatever you call her, honey, she will have you leaving a believer!

But, I’ll leave the details sacred. And, instead, leave you with this post-ceremony pic that perfectly captured the mystic vibe…

My Year Ahead

So, 2023. Back in Miami, doing Miami things. Teaching, fundraising, dating, nesting, traveling, day-dreaming, scheming, meditating, saving, savoring, sulking, integrating, growing, crying, connecting, creating, contemplating, dancing, stretching, writing, being and doing….the best I can.

And sometimes even thriving.

As the world keeps turning…

Blonde & Burnt: My Summer in Cabo

Posted in 30s, Dating, Love, mexico, self-discovery, Travel, UncategorizedTagged , , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

So, I went back to Mexico to see about a boy.

Yeah, I know. I need to stop crossing borders and chasing boys.

But my proclivity to pursue overseas affairs is a direct result of the transient life I’ve chosen to live.

Love, as I know it, has been foreign, feverish and fleeting. Craig the accountant – with all his emotional and financial stability – doesn’t quite have the same appeal as the exotic romances I’ve had the privilege to savor.

And as I sit here looking very blonde, slightly burnt, and a bit broken-hearted, I’m gathering up the lessons learned on yet another one of life’s colorful journeys.

This is the story of my summer in Cabo…chasing love, seeing signs, and closing chapters.

My Boyfriend Bruno

Why are American women so reluctant to say the ‘b’ word?

Easy. We live in a casual, no labels dating culture where declaring someone your boyfriend is such a big deal.

This cultural conditioning did not translate well last year in Mexico when I met Bruno.

You see, the moment a Mexican breathes on you, you’re novios. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Simple as that. So, when I kept coyly referring to B as my “special friend” or “Mexican lover” he took it to heart.

“Was this just a casual thing?” he thought.

The truth is, I was very much in love with Bruno. From the beginning. But, by the time I had the courage to call him my boyfriend, it was time to go.

10 months later, we had a spring break reunion that had me mapping out my move back to Mexico. At least for the summer. You know, to see how things go. To give love a chance. To start nurturing my neglected love life.

So, I showed up. As I do. No matter how illogical my love tends to be. (See, for example, this and this). And this time I was equipped with a few years of therapy, a slew of self love and an arsenal of communication tools that I was aching to put into practice.

But, as a blind and deaf optimist, I tend to only see and hear what fits my vision of the person I’m pursuing. I have faith in people’s potential. I can see how it could all work out. And this summer, my sights were set on a reconnection with Bru.

As it turned out, my vision was blurry. Our connection had long faded and our lives were worlds apart. And for the next few months, my hope for a relationship redo started to unravel.

But before I could throw myself a Mexican pity party, some wonderful blessings came clearly into view…

Three Yellow Birds

After my spiritual awakening in Peru, I’ve been much more attuned to life’s little messages.

One such message came last month, in the form of three yellow birds.

As I contemplated my complicated relationship in Cabo, my celestial friend Christie suggested I ask my guides to show me a specific sign to help me on my way. So, I did.

A yellow bird would mean fly free and go. A red cactus flower would mean stay and grow. Cute, right?

The next morning, as I enjoyed my coffee on the balcony, I heard a commotion in the bush below. Not one, but two yellow birds were joyfully playing and singing, as I did everything I could not to notice them. I looked up, down, left, right. Stared at my arm. Counted my freckles. So, just for good measure, the universe sent a third bird past me in a blaze of yellow to join the others in the bush.

I could imagine my divine guides laughing at me as I decided how much stock I would put in the signs they had sent. Surely, I wasn’t meant to leave yet. I had just arrived. I needed more time to grow.

But, in a country full of cacti, there wasn’t a red flower in sight. Mierda.

Alas, the universe wouldn’t allow me to sulk for long. Instead, she gifted me a gaggle of mortal guides that had my back before I broke down.

Like my empowered and supportive amigas – Martita, Sofia and Fer – who, upon asking if they were in a relationship, replied, “Yes, we are in a relationship with ourselves.” ¡Órale! I’d found my mujeres. (They also happened to be good friends with B. But, let’s just say they wore Team Holly shirts…and sombreros and pom poms and chaquetas and pantalones…).

Then there was Z, my healer. My shamana. Z gifted me with an indigenous massage that literally exorcised my demons, dropped a micro dose of mushroom medicine in my morning water, and nurtured me with wisdom collected from her years in the mountains of Michoacán. And, she’s like, 25.

And then there was my local taco shop where O the owner would serve up the cheapest, freshest fish tacos around, while Lola the resident perro sniffed out my sadness and showered me with emotional support.

And then my five best friends showed up for a Baja adventure of boating, tacos, mescalitas, and life chat.

With all these beautiful distractions, I hardly realized my relationship with B was coming to an end.

The thing I’ve learned about my transient love is that it’s better left preserved in the moment it occurs. I have a tendency to return to try and recreate the magic. And, that’s when I’m usually left deeply disappointed.

But do I ever regret it? Following my heart to the ends of the earth? Of course not.

In fact, I went back to that one time I moved to Australia to see about a boy. And, this is what 29-year-old Holly had to say:

But of all the little life lessons I learned, it comes down to this:

I followed my heart and took a huge risk for something and someone I believed in. It was crazy and irrational and exactly what life is all about. I’ve realized how imperfect love can be, but how much it’s worth fighting for. Worth crossing oceans for.

And even though it didn’t work out the way I had hoped it would, and it hurt a lot, I’m a wiser, more resilient more self-assured me…strengths you only acquire after facing your fears, taking a leap of faith, falling (as gracefully as possible) and getting up to tell the tale.

No regrets.

Yes, you free-spirited queen. No regrets. And no apologies. Just lessons learned, memories made and clarity acquired. Cabo chapter closed.

Now I can get back to being in a relationship with myself.

Cuz, she cute.

Speaking of queens…honorable mention goes out to Beyoncé for dropping the perfect summer breakup song of 2022.

Oh, and this song from Encanto because, right now, we definitely don’t talk about…

Now, excuse me while I release my wiggle.

The Bubble

Posted in 30s, coronavirus, Dating, Love, mexico, self-discovery, solo travel, teaching, TravelTagged , , , , , , , , 1 Comment

As I laid in bed in my Mexican condo, beside my Mexican lover, watching Narcos Mexico on my Mexican TV, it finally dawned on me...

Oh yeah. I live in Mexico.

You see, I’d been stuck inside a bubble for the past five months. Granted, this bubble was a multi-million dollar mansion on the Sea of Cortez, equipped with a private chef, butler and anything my little corazón desired.

Everything except…privacy.

That would come after a vaccination and some negotiation.

OK, let me back this bubble story up a bit.

Last September I signed on to be a traveling teacher for a jet-set family. It was a wild and wonderful opportunity that came at an amenable time. The world was still recovering from the pesky pandemic, so why not wait it out in the lap of luxury and pile some pesos while I was at it? It was a no-brainer. I packed my bags and headed to the West Coast.

The caveat was that I’d be living with my employers. Not the worst thing if your employers provide all the aforementioned living amenities. But, for a 35-year-old single woman, this was going to be quite an adjustment.

Nevertheless, I committed.

And for the next five months, I found myself holed up in what I lovingly called the Cabo COVID Convent. I took full advantage of the all-inclusive set-up as I spent every non-working hour plugging away at my 200-page research paper.

If I wasn’t going to have a social life, I would at least finish my dissertation.

And, I was actually starting to get used to this swanky, solitary lifestyle. In fact, I took a solo Christmas sojourn around Baja that turned out to be one of the most blissful trips I’ve ever encountered.

But a social creature like me doesn’t last long alone. And, although I was enjoying my time with the “gente de la casa,” I needed a life outside the gilded gates within which I resided.

So, when the first vaccine shot presented itself to my arm, I gladly took it.

This was my freedom card.

Or at least that’s what I thought.

Oh, Holly. You jumped the gun, girl.

You know that Mexican lover I mentioned? Well, five days after my first shot, he invited me to dinner. The truth is, I sometimes snuck out of my bubble to feel like a pre-COVID person who has drinks with friends.

Now, before you lecture me on how my antibodies wouldn’t have kicked in yet, trust me, I was aware. But, alas. An innocent dinner with an infected friend turned into a 2-week quarantine as I recovered from the virus that has pestered us all for the past year.

F*cking COVID.

I had lived in an airtight bubble for many months, and it finally got me. Perfect timing, too. I had the biggest presentation of my Ph.D. life, and I couldn’t get out of bed. No smell, no taste, no hope. But, with all the time in the world, I powered through and defended my dissertation in the confines of a small, sullied Mexican hotel room.

I celebrated by taking a nap.

You can’t make this shit up.

So, what’s the silver lining?

Well, after my quarantine, I moved into my own condo. I had also started spending more time with the person that put me in quarantine in the first place. We started exploring Cabo in a way that made me feel like I actually lived there. And, I eventually got to spend a glorious week celebrating my graduation with family, friends and so much love.

So, yeah. Another example of life’s little rollercoaster shenanigans that always end in lessons learned and life lived.

And, as I prepare to leave the community I just started to feel comfortable in (we’re only in Cabo for the season, daaaling), I am reflecting hard on what commitment means and relishing my brief time with beautiful new friends.

Stay tuned for notes on my summer in San Diego…