This Intentional Life


For weeks I’ve been catching up on all my blog subscriptions.  The first one I finished up, Tranquilo Adventures, ended in Sayulita.  The next one, Patagonia or Bust, same thing.  And the next, 30 for Thirty.  I then started in on a new blog (Crossing Latitudes) from the beginning and where do they start?  The easy living in Sayulita.

I long to be back there.  Reading these peoples’ take on Sayulita Life reminds me of why I never wanted to leave.  I remember telling Tom that if I went back East I would forget how life is here and fall back into the daily grind.  I had secured an apartment and a job, I wasn’t going back ‘home’.  Luckily Tom reminded me I still had an apartment full of crap in RI that I had to take care of and I had a solid plan that deserved to be followed through.  We told all our friends to expect me back within the year.

Vida en Sayulita.  We would wake to the waves crashing just outside our bedroom.  Drink some wonderful local organic coffee as we waited to see the sun, it never came.  We would walk down to the bottom of our street and meet up with Mario serving coconuts to the tourists, then Pepe would appear and he’d pour a good amount of Agave in our coconut, “Coco loco” he’d snicker.  Our touristy fun would be horseback riding along the beach and through the jungle, we even had our favorite horses.  Back in town we’d run into Chuy and we’d go up to hang out at his place, Rolando and Jenni would be in their outdoor kitchen next door.  As dusk came we would grab a couple fish tacos, make our selves some drinks then head back down to the bars.  In between Rolando’s sets we would sit on the beach and talk about our futures.

Pepe, Chuy, y Mario

Tonight we watched Shawshank Redemption and as I ate a frozen tropical fruit bar, I felt so much closer to our life there.  I was brought back to the night we were looking for the hardware store so I could get a machete; walking down the road eating our frozen bars, we never found it that night, instead we met Sergio who brought us to Carmen’s house because he liked doing projects and Sergio was sure he’d let us use his tools for whatever we needed a machete for.

As I sit reminiscing of happier times, the movie comes to an end and I am left with the narrator’s voice in my head,

“I find I’m so excited that I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it’s the excitement only a free man can feel. A free man at a start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope.”

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