Be a human

"It is a familiar sadness to me both to forget things and to say goodbye."

Impermanence makes me weary.

Sometimes a bit distrustful.

Sometimes it is far too complex to try to explain feelings.

And aren't feelings the most impermanent of all?

Sigh.

Impermanence makes me weary….


On Monday I said goodbye to two women who in less than two weeks have become like two sisters. As I leaned against the dock railing, salt water at my toes and on my cheeks (and everywhere really, its sweatily hot here…) I was in a state so fully indefinable that all I could do was smile through and at the salt, at how much had come from this so very impermanent collision of humans. At how much could be encapsulated in such a small amount of time--how immense of a takeaway I'd been given.

Love.

Compassion.

Kindness.

Acceptance.

Trust.

Gratitude.

Light.

Straight up humanness.


What does it mean to you to be human? That list, for me, is it. It may look familiar, like a standard collection of well regarded traits that are oh so easily lost in the banality of day to day life. To offer the most genuine, expressive, honest bits of yourself with the utmost humility, while graciously accepting the same from others is a daily, no, moment-ly, immediate bit of work. So is letting people see you and seeing them. Having uncalculated interactions that are not following some sort of armoured protocol for instigating stereotypical or respectable formalities, but subjectively fluid responses that are so heighteningly present that you almost see yourself involved in a new way. Founding relationships that burrow under the surface nuances of small talk into the deeper artistry of aliveness. An exchange that isn't about what you can get from someone, but what you can share in. Being human.

Over the most fleeting two weeks of my life (that in their immensity so feel like a lifetime in themselves) we shared laughter, meals, ceremonies, and so much more sweat than was seeping that farewell morning. Every "how are you?" was an invitation to be exactly how you are. Every conversation was invested in. We sang "Lean on Me" walking through the jungle and meant it. We allowed each other to become a significant, vital part of our own personal experiences here. Immense.

It was immense because at some point, each of us decided, whether consciously or not, that we would be here. That we would come as we are and meet each other where they were. That we were not here to tell or teach or lead, but to share. Perhaps it was because time here was so obviously finite--everyone but me has a return ticket home (don't worry Ma, I will book one…)--there just wasn't any bullshit. But really, isn't life just as finite? We all know we are simply walking home, we all have that ticket--so really, we don't ever have time for bullshit.

And it is so fascinating, without the bullshit, with just the take- me- as-I-am-and-let-me-love-you humanness, how you are perceived. How in those moments of being so fully present, you get, as I wrote above, that moment of opportunity to almost take a birds-eye of yourself and be so aware of how you are interacting, on your participation as a human being, and the voice, the very energy you are offering to the experience. You have this opportunity to be a witness to your own light shining through and where you may be dimming yourself, to see whom you are being and recalibrate with your truths outside of your habits, outside of roles and routines and immersed in the ever evolving, immediate self. In that, there is spaciousness, and you feel your whole self filling it entirely, aware of your potential, your essence, your offerings; you feel purposeful. And then, beautifully, from these new relationships you have formed you receive insight into that very person, that self that you are observing--and your perception of you may be so different, sometimes absurdly so, than those in your vibe path. I mean, if I had a dollar (roughly 13 pesos, or 2 mangos--seriously!) for every time that someone told me my energy was zen and I laughed out loud--too loud-- I would be booking a flight to Bali next; in my ever running mind, zen isn't necessarily a choice descriptor…but I will take it. I will see it.

As much as you let people see you, they will filter what is shown through the lens that is their own self, picking up on what attracts them or doesn't, what they are triggered by or reflected in, the lessons they need and the ones they have learned--and so will you them. We are all harmonious blends of so many every things: feminine/masculine, tender/strong, sure/wavering, forward/secretive, faithful/doubting…as complex as feelings can be so can the humans that feel and embody them. And so then, being human is knowing too that your perceptions can become assumptions, and to foremost offer grace, for yourself and others that we are all just discovering ourselves, and to be welcomed into or to offer that up is a sweet gift of humanity.

You see, it is not the memories that may fade with time that saddens me, but diluting how each human in each experience--the sheer oneness-- has made me feel. This is what I do not want the sadness of goodbyes to strangle, these that I do not want to forget:


Perception is everything.

Be present.

Be kind.

Offer joy.

You are a gift, you have gifts--give them.

We are one.

The value in connection is incomparable. There is no exchange rate into pesos or mangos.

Each of my neuva familia was and continues to be on our own exquisite journey, but as I was reminded here: everywhere you go, everyone matters. And so I go, with an immense amount of wonder, self-actualization, unravelled wisdom, prayer, and gratitude to continue connecting, to continue to matter.

Love for you everywhere,
Tiff