Regresar

I am back home in Seattle, and as excited as I was to return, the feeling did not land with me.

I feel lost and a little confused.  Wanting to hug the people I meet and greet everyone with a smile and a Spanish greeting.  But, I can't. I feel like I am unsure of how to return to where I was.

The problem is, I can't. When I say I feel lost, it's probably because I actually am.  I have to carve a new path to walk down.

Part of me anticipates this being read with criticism and judgement but the truth is is that these are my feelings and no one can say otherwise.  I feel as I need to prove to someone that it's okay that I feel this way but that is because I want to live up to these presumed expectations that I am thinking that everyone is thinking I should be full of life and joy after returning from this trip.  When reality, I am projecting my own expectations. (I laugh at my own ridiculousness.)

Costa Rica was difficult and beautiful but it became my life and home for a while and it always painful to accept the death of things.

I loved seeing another culture and practicing it as my own.  It's hard to return and to have to leave it behind.  I went to Costa Rica prepared to do so, but not in returning. 

Something that Costa Rica taught me is the comparison factor that we do.  My Way vs Their Way.  I was caught with this a couple times with things that displeased myself and was surprised at my own response and reminded myself, "Not better or worse, just different."

I was surprised to find that I carried this back to Seattle with me when I was confronted to my usual patterns of being irritated and passing judgements.  "Not bad, just different."

I hadn't realized how judgmental and self-centered I am until I returned to Seattle.  I am really thankful that Costa Rica has shown me so.  Because it is my selfishness and judgements that I build my own prison.

Like the breaths we take in each moment, I breathe in what is now and as I breath out, relax my grip on the things that I think should be.

Tranquila.

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