Feet sinking into sand.
Sticky air.
Heat kissing my face and arms.
The sound of waves galloping to shore.
Foamy fingers.
Bubbles popping as the ocean calls herself home.
Birds whistling.
Palms rustling.
Driftwood everywhere.
The sharp scent of smoke.
Salt and ash on my tongue.
And the foul bowels of low tide.
I am here, in my body, tasting every sense, one at a time. My phone is untouched in my backpack. There is no podcast playing. There is no book in my hands. There is just me and the ocean, her heartbeat thumping rhythmically with mine.
As a collective, we are losing the experience of presence.
The devices in our hands have become our heartbeat. Not the ocean. Or the way the jungle sings at sunrise. Or the clouds brushing across a painted evening sky.
These devices, they have fooled us into believing that we can do everything all at once. They tempt us with multi-tasking, instant gratification, and endless digital to-do lists. They’ve fooled us into believing that life happens from the neck up; within the invisible ethers of the internet.
They have hijacked our attention, taking us away from our rightful experience as humans: To be in and to delight in our bodies; to be wholly immersed in what’s in front of us.
For me, Sayulita has been the way back.
She has been an opening to reconnect with how I move through the world. Her simplicity has reminded me of my natural pace, which is much slower than a capitalist society would ever allow me to move at.
Here in Sayulita, there are no big box stores.
You can walk from one side of town to the other.
I don’t have a car.
I live close to the ground, to the earth.
I walk everywhere.
The jungle creeps around our human world.
There are still large swathes of land untouched by machines.
Roads are a river of dust and dirt and cobblestone.
And I can step outside my door, guaranteed to pass a familiar face with a wave and a smile.
I have a theory that the further away we live from the earth—the body that holds our bodies—the further away we move from presence, and the connection we have to nature and each other.
When was the last time you went for a walk outside, fully surrendered to that experience?
When was the last time you reveled in your senses?
When was the last time you listened to your own breathing and the steady beat of your heart?
Frozen and stuck behind screens, we are disconnected from our life force; from a sublime feeling of aliveness that can only be accessed when we are fully inhabiting the moment.
The call is here.
It’s all around us—rustling in the treetops, braided into birdcalls, and whispering on the wind.
Can you hear it?
Like water ebbing from the shore, we are being called back to our roots.
Back to our bodies.
To the body that holds our bodies….
But only if we can put our devices down long enough
to listen.
With love & food for thought,
-Kayla
P.S. Want to take this transmission deeper? Reflect on the prompts below and see what comes up:
How are nature’s cycles and seasons alive within you?
What pace do you secretly wish you could live life at?
If you could inhabit your body 1% more today, what would that look like?
WANDER THE WORLD WITH ME?
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