Hello Invisible Audience,
I am writing to you from atop a mountain, in the cloud
forest of Panama. I am here until the end of June, watching over the finca –
specifically, the coffee plantation – of some good friends while they’re away
on their own adventure, walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain. I am in
Boquete, the town where I lived for nearly two years – a town I left almost
three years ago.
 |
| My favorite viewpoint of Boquete, from the bridge in town looking up valley. |
Although much has changed since I left, enough has stayed
the same for it to feel surreal to be here. It’s like slipping my feet into
some comfortable, well-worn shoes that I’d forgotten I owned. At the same time,
there is a foreignness to the place as well. Although I am no longer surprised
by the way of life in Panama after having lived here, I experience small bits
of shock when I realize that I knew something about living in a foreign place and
forgot it. I suppose it’s similar to getting on a bike after not having ridden
in years and realizing I still know exactly how to balance and shift gears.
The trip down was brutal. It was multiple days of flights
and buses, and I shouldn’t be surprised that I ended up with a pretty nasty
cold and cough. It’s likely a lot of the reason I’m finding it hard to connect
with what was once my sacred place, but that can’t be the whole reason.
 |
| Ghost Kitty (left) and Biggie (right) |
I came here once because I was lost and seeking a place to
find myself. To say I did is an understatement. Although many of the people
I’ve seen since I returned to Boquete tell me I look exactly the same as when I
left – a compliment I will gladly accept – I do not at all feel the same on the
inside.
 |
| Charlie the Dog |
It’s more than just being tired, or suffering a cold. I am
wrung out. Much has improved for me since I left Boquete, but most of it was
not easy. If I am a different person, it is because I have fought battles and
collected scars that I didn’t have before.
Before I left the States, Washington State was still somewhat
in the grips of one of the longest, deepest and heaviest winters we’ve had in a
long time. I welcomed it: I was living really remotely, and hunkered in for the
winter. Perhaps I haven’t come out of that yet, but there is something missing
from this time in Panama, Invisible Audience. I am missing that spark of
excitement I usually feel when I’m abroad. I fear that I will not be able to
find it again – that the passion and creativity I have enjoyed in the past will
not come back. I realize that sounds dramatic, but underneath the drama is a
very real awareness: I have not felt empowered to be myself lately. I have not
felt a desire to create, to write, or to pursue things that feel close to my
heart. Instead, I have found I have leaned into the mundane and everyday; I
have distracted myself through books, TV shows and work that doesn’t really
fulfill me in the hopes of keeping the pain at bay. It is not sustainable,
Invisible Audience. And I don’t want it to be.
 |
| My view for the next several months, looking out toward the Pacific Ocean. |
Oftentimes in the past, I have felt what I call divine
timing. I know when it’s time to wait for something, and when it’s time to push
forward. My sense of divine timing has not been clear lately. Instead, I wonder
if I am floating in a sea of apathy because it is a safer place to be than
striking out across the ocean with clear, clean strokes – not knowing where I’m
going necessarily, but at least moving forward.
I have wondered if my chance to be back in Boquete will
change anything. I have wondered if, once again, it is a place where I can
heal, even if the method and people are different than last time. I don’t know,
but there are small signs that that could be the case, if I want it to be. After
all, I’m writing to you, aren’t I? That in itself is no small feat.
Love and divine kisses
Morgan
