I’m sitting in dappled sunlight basking in the sounds of the jungle while the smell of incense wafts from my neighbor’s porch. It’s been almost two weeks in Mexico, and I’m finally feeling myself slowing down inside and moving with the frequencies of the ocean. I am remembering who I am.
When our family sold everything we owned and left Texas almost four years ago to slow travel full-time, it was for moments like this. We had dreams of spending winters at the beach and summers in the mountains, chasing warmth and good vibes.
And we did it. Kind of.
Colorado was our first stop, and we fell in love. Within days we had made friends, and within weeks we felt like we’d found the home our souls had always known but our bodies had never been. We extended our stay from five months to nine, and when it was time to push on to California and Mexico, we did so with mixed emotions. Admittedly I was maxed out with the cold weather and the snow, but I still missed our newfound friends and the sense of community we’d built there.
Three months later we were back. Our daughter was three-and-a-half years old at the time, and she needed friends and stimulation she wasn’t getting from us. Our stays in California and Mexico hadn’t been what we’d expected, and all around the signs were pointing us straight back to Colorado. We bought a house. We accumulated things again. We started a life.
It’s been almost four years, and our dream has never been far from my mind. I recognized with love and a sense of parental duty that my child needed something different from what I wanted, but I didn’t let go of my own inner knowing that something hadn’t quite found balance in our lives yet. That something was working itself out.
And then we came here.
It was my brother’s wedding that pulled us to Mexico in the middle of winter, but it was serendipitous circumstances that caused us to extend our stay. And with each day that’s passed, I’ve felt the gentle waves of my old dream lapping against my ankles reminding me of the intention I put out into the Universe all those years ago. I’ve been shown again and again how everything is energy, and I’ve been reminded that the rules that govern our lives are impersonal, mathematical forces that always circle us back to the energetic point of origin.
There’s a series of numbers in mathematics called the Fibonacci sequence that is seen repeating again and again in nature. In the series the sum of the previous two numbers always equals the next creating a mathematical, sacred spiral that is both measurable and breathtaking. When put in ratio, the numbers equal the “Golden Ratio” of 1.618 and provide a roadmap for the pattern of energetic order in the Universe.
To me it’s a tangible, provable reminder that there is organization to this sometimes chaotic-feeling world we live in, and it’s a number that came up just last night as my husband and I were kicking the tires on our old dream of splitting time between the beach and the mountains each year.
In perfect timing (and as usual) my sister sent me a message on Voxer totally exhilarated and out of breath with excitement. She said that she and her husband had just watched a Gregg Braden documentary and were joyfully examining the fractal times in their lives. The basic premise is that any large burst of energy (positive or negative) in your life will cycle back around (remember, energy orbits and spirals) to repeat itself in similar energetic resonance at intervals equal to that of the Fibonacci Sequence and the Golden Ratio.
Now, I’m an essence gal. I love when science backs up things I believe, but for me it’s enough to know that someone else is clear on the exact facts and figures of it all. I sail on feelings, and I swim in deep knowings. So I didn’t need to sort out the fractals of when my my dream originated to know that what my sister was sharing was right on time. Spirit was reminding me in the exact timing I needed that my dream hadn’t left me. It was circling back in orbit, and it was spiraling in the way it needed to for me.
When I communicate with the other side, I often receive large quantities of information in a single momentary download. And in the moment I heard my sister’s message, I saw clearly the energetic nature of our dreams.
I was shown that just like that sacred spiral, our dreams are entire rotating worlds. They are energetic entities with their own pulse and heartbeat. They’re balls of light we emit from our hearts in our truest, most vulnerable moments, and once launched, they become the sun of their own solar system, with all the planets, moons and stars orbiting just so to bring them into being. Sometimes it feels like they drift off in the galaxy or are blocked from view by the millions of other energies we’ve created with our intention, but they’re always there. Indestructible and ever making their way back to us in perfect, ordered time.
Think about a pebble dropped in a big pond. Our dreams are like that. They have a point of origin - a bang - and then they ripple out from there infinitely and without prejudice. The ripples of our dreams are always there. Our only job is to keep our hearts open for when they make their way back to us.
I don’t know how my beach dreams will work out in this moment. I’ve learned over the years that the quickest way to fuck up a dream’s natural orbit is by inserting a whole bunch of “How” energy into its flow. It’s like pummeling something that’s floating peacefully with a shit storm of asteroids. Not. Productive.
But what I do know is that it’s still there. It never left me. And I trust the organized, reliable nature of its orbit. It was a like taking a deep, patient breath of knowing.
And awakening the part of me that created it was a wildly important validation of my own creative power. Because even though I have known dimensions other than this and can travel out of my body simply by closing my eyes, I too forget how much power we really have. I don’t always remember how this whole life thing works. And remembering our power is key to the whole thing.
What I’m being reminded sitting here in the jungle with the kiss of the sun browning my skin is that our dreams are living beings all their own. And once created they flow and expand with the same grace as we did growing in the womb.
I’m remembering that my own sacred dream of warm winters and sun-drenched beaches never left me. And I trust that eventually, in its own perfect way, it will ease me right into its gravitational pull.