Five Senses Writing
Raw Realities
The luscious wild jungle enraptured in shades of green is fully alive, an untamed woman refusing to be held down. She is strong. Always growing and quickly changing. The patter of rain picks up pace as the monkeys howl to each other, signaling the beginning of a new day. As my eyes flutter open, the Costa Rican jungle along with a curious gecko greet me into a new day.
The rain pounds on my roof like hammers drowning out any other sounds nearby. The wooden ladder creaks with each step I take down to the first floor of the casita. Later sipping coffee that reminds me of a cozy cafe, I step out onto the deck and turn on my favorite reggae melodies. Swaying with the beat, the birds flutter from one palm tree to the next probably playing a game of tag. The rain brings me a feeling of new beginnings, clearing the air and washing away the old.
Across the path families are stirring, movement beginning as a woman starts sweeping her porch. She gathers the dust and her child comes from behind laughing in Spanish. The palms slowly come still as the rain dramatically halt. In the distance behind the gloomy clouds, a glimpse of sun pokes through as if to tell me it’s going to be a sunny day.
Taking a hidden jungle path to the beach, my feet are glued to the mud with every step I take. Raising my feet higher with each step, they are completely covered in earth because of the rain. Enraptured in the jungle, I feel as one as I glide through the thick grass and untamed bushes. The end of the path onto the road can be seen along with a disoriented plastic bag and a crushed beer can lying in the jungle. I can feel the jungle’s sadness, and I understand her frustration. We as humans take whatever we want from her, use all her riches and resources and in the end we throw our garbage into her womb.
Slowly the view of the ocean starts to come into focus and I say, “Hola” to a man walking by. The jungle vines meet the black sand that caresses my feet as I walk. My beach towel is printed with colorful pineapples and I sprint down to the ocean like a child running after the ice cream truck. The magical Caribbean tides take me in her arms and the pure salt water cleanses my soul. Every worry, anxious thought, and sadness in the world ceases to exist. Here I am. Simply and beautifully connected to all that gives us life on planet. No high rise buildings. Just me, the jungle and the ocean. All coming together to heal and remember the truth.
I drag my feet back to my towel and spin around wondering how I got so lucky to live in such a special paradise. What I always wanted was this. Pure connection. But the piercing sound of the trash truck and the cars from the road are part of this reality too. How easy it would be to blind ourselves to the billions of pieces of plastic floating in the ocean and the rotting smell of ripped open trash bags on the side of the road. That even here on the Caribbean coast of one of the most biodiverse places in the world, human destruction is so clear. So real. Beyond the dazzling images of sun kissed skin and piña coladas and Bob Marley tunes selling you the paradise, mother earth is crying. Weeping for us to only take off the foggy lenses. I am so privileged and blessed to describe a paradise that I continue to return to. A place that’s not mine. And a place that is a symbol of what’s going on in our world right now. A place that represents we must come together to protect these pieces of paradise that are still left.