Oh, The Places We Know (Part 2)
Stepping off the airplane in La Paz, I am met with happy, healthy palm trees and the friendly faces of the kind humans who, upon exiting the terminal, facilitate connecting you with a taxi driver. This service is provided by the airport, and it's the first very real logistical experience of the ease I feel here, and the greater ease and kindness yet to come...
On this most recent trip, I am met by my AirBnb host, Alma, who greets me curbside with a beaming smile I can feel through her mask, a bottle of water, and a hug. Her energy feels like a loving auntie, and she welcomes me with the same joy of one who has been eagerly awaiting my arrival —like we are truly related and seeing each other again after many years.
A place you are returning to AGAIN after many years.. maybe lifetimes.. this is what a soul home feels like.
For about half my life now, I've lived in places in the U.S. where I've been immersed in Mexican culture. From a 2-year stint back in high school in southeastern Texas, to my many years in southern California, to the current, more recent years in New Mexico. So anytime I've traveled somewhere in "Old Mexico", I do feel a general comfort, connection, and familiarity with my surroundings.
Yet, La Paz feels different.
Walking many miles through the neighborhoods in La Paz, I am met with countless cacti and vines of bright bougainvillea accompanying the myriad deliciously designed gates and doors. I am met with the scrumptious smells from the little family restaurant, as I pass the shop that sells birdhouses.. along with a little bit of everything. And just as I am met with a 'buen dia' from the man who shines the shoes at the corner stand, I am also met by the kind eyes of a woman in a portrait — her giant, colorful face painted on the side of the building to my right.
Venturing on through the neighborhood where I'm staying, I am met with the sound of a piano playing. My heart flutters and I smile. Piano is a language my soul and I speak. I cross the street to get closer to the sound, and it stops. I pass an entryway, barely catching a glimpse of a piano inside, and moments later see a sweet-looking, small-framed older woman step out with a younger woman holding her music books. Their lesson is over and they both wave goodbye with joy on their faces.
As I witness this moment from a distance, I am met with joy rippling through me, feeling that "knowing" sense of being exactly where I'm supposed to be.
The very next day I am met with the vibrant energy of Amelie, a Frenchwoman who resides in La Paz for 10+ years now, passionately learning everything there is to know about the city and its incredible, semi-recent explosion of brilliant street art. In our conversation, Amelie teaches me the symbolism behind many of the captivating outdoor murals, explaining that most are depictions of the history and local people; that the basis of the project was not only about bringing color to the streets, that it was birthed from the genuine intention and desire to truly tell the meaningful stories of this sacred place.
In my trips here, I eventually learn a lot about the people of La Paz, the history of their deep relationship with the land & the sea, the way they work together as a community to care for their city; the way they value, protect, & preserve nature, and the way they cherish & celebrate their local heroes.
What I learn tells me a lot about what matters here.
What matters here are many of the same things that deeply matter to me, and I feel a strong resonance and sense of kinship. In La Paz I go to sleep and wake up to the sounds of Mexican music in the distance, I see color and creativity all around, I wander the streets and witness the way the people work with dedication, yet move without rush or stress. They value balance in life & health, their waters, their stories, their people..
Amelie tells me how the locals were asked by the muralists what they wanted the paintings on the building facades of their city to represent — who/what did they want to celebrate? Rather than any political figures or conquistadors, they wanted the fisherman and the rancheros; the sea life and the water herself; and one very special lady — their beloved local piano teacher. The same woman whose kind-eyed portrait I had seen only one day prior, just before the moment I witnessed the local legend herself finishing a lesson — myself completely unaware they were the same person.
Not yet knowing her significance in the hearts of the community.
I'd have to write short novel to really share all the wonderful synchronicities and details of my recent 72 hours in La Paz, as this is only some of the magic I experienced. Though since I'm always doing my best to avoid doing just that in these writings here, I'll sign off by simply saying this — go. If you can make it happen, go. Go to the places you feel called. Allow Spirit to lead you, follow Intuition, and see what happens.
There is a reason we feel called to the places we do.
Want to explore La Paz with me? Join me there in October for EXPLORE Retreat!
✨Schedule a time to chat with me about it OR reserve your space here.✨
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(She/Her)
The gal behind Held In The Heart. The Community Journal is a space for those who feel deeply to express freely. We explore all sorts of things here, from the real & raw healing stories & creative writing, to the funny & fleeting moments of everyday human life. I warmly welcome you and invite you to explore with us!