Finding Myself in Guatemala

Not just alone in the café, but in my life. Okay, so that was a bit dramatic—I was fortunate to have a beautiful network of friends, but relationships in two very intimate areas of my life—romance and work (our breakup had collided with my transitioning from teaching at a school I’d worked at for four years to a new employer)—had ended. In some ways it felt like my life had ended.

And so began my inner journey. I sat there, alone, listening to the haunting, cacophonous voices of my cruelest self-critic: “You’re worthless,” “Twenty-eight and single, not sure what you want to do with your life—it’s passing you by!” “Maybe you are unlovable, if Jeff found someone else so fast.” “If only you had done things differently…”

I took a deep breath, and in that moment, a profound truth found its way through the eye of the storm: “You have a choice.”

I weighed the power of that thought. My favorite author once wrote, “In every possibility is contained the possibility of its opposite.” When I was in the throes of emotional wrestling with Jeff and felt attached to wanting it to work out, a spiritual counselor I know told me instead to pray for, “this or something better.” What if I could have something better? What if I could create a new life—a new possibility—in the presence of this sorrow, right here in Guatemala?

I finished my coffee and breakfast, and took a walk. I quickly found the office of a company that led tours to the top of a volcano in the town of Pacaya. There just happened to be a bus leaving in twenty minutes and I got on it.

I spent the afternoon with a woman, her brother, and his daughter. After a day filled with laughter and hiking, we grabbed dinner together at a local restaurant and then spent the late hours of the evening enjoying the bustling nightlife of the city.

The next month was one of the best in my life. At my school, I met an amazing blend of Guatemalans and world travelers, including Joel, a lawyer from Berkeley who was thirty years older than me, and his daughter, Maria, who was ten years younger than me. There was also Dhaval, a medical student from Georgia who was studying in Guatemala and Nicaragua for the summer, and Alisha, a girl who gave herself the gift of this trip as one last solo adventure before getting married in the fall. There were students of all ages and backgrounds, all eager to get to know one another and have fun.

We were a motley crew of traveling companions.