An Unexpected Gift

Day three was quite an adventure!

To understand my spirits at dawn, it’s worth rewinding a bit to the previous night. After the celebration on the beach, retreating back home brought some heavy inner processes to the surface. It was one of those nights of silent and conscious work: choosing not to harbor resentments, seeking the subtle lesson, and alchemizing discomfort into peace.

The feeling was transmutated, but my body and mind felt the weight of the day. Between spiritual offerings, dancing, walking, and that dense quietness at night, I went to sleep exhausted.

Even so, I set my alarm for 7 a.m.

Even tired and with the chance of an overcast sky, I felt it was worth taking a chance

There were a few obstacles in the way: first, the fatigue itself and the desire to stay warm and cozy under the blankets, sleeping in.

On top of that, during this trip, I had a very interesting experience with the house's little dog, who wouldn't stop barking and growling at me every time she saw me. Since I’ve been bitten by dogs a few times before, my body reacts with fear whenever that happens, in a way that feels almost irrational. And the sweet little dog, as gentle as she was, could sense that fear emanating from me and, like a mirror, reflected it right back. I recognized an opportunity there to practice presence and emotional mastery, and finally, on our third day together, we found peace.

And just as well, because if she had kept growling at me in a fury, I wouldn't have been able to make it to the clothesline in the backyard to grab my pants, and I would've had to go to the beach in my pajamas.

And so, the first two obstacles of the day were overcome: I escaped the grips of the blankets and mastered my emotions enough to put my pants on.

Now, the issue was unlocking the electric gate to open it manually. My godfather had explained to me that once I opened the motor cover, I’d have to pull a lever. But I searched and searched for that lever, nearly ripped the motor cover off, and still couldn't unlock the gate.

Since I had already conquered a whole series of obstacles just to be standing in front of that gate, I couldn't simply give up, take off my pants, and go back to bed in defeat. I had to see this through to the end.

Then came the brilliant idea, the only possible alternative: jump the gate.

What a hilarious scene: me climbing the wall and jumping out of the house. I must say, my arm ended up hurting quite a bit because instead of jumping straight to the ground, I tried to hold onto the wall and ended up completely contorting myself! What a spectacle!

What matters is that I managed to overcome the final obstacle, and now the path to the beach was a straight line of less than a kilometer.

Completely out of energy, I didn't even want to listen to music on my headphones; I just wanted to reach my destination.

As I approached the waterfront, I was surprised to see people already jogging along the boardwalk, and as I walked onto the beach, even more people were there. Three women were chatting lively, taking photos, and taking in the sunrise.

I sat down not too far from them, but I didn't share that same excitement, and to top it off, the sun wouldn't show itself, not even a little bit, from behind the sea of gray clouds.

The afternoon before, despite being overcast, the horizon cleared up right at sunset, and a band of pink and yellow filled the sky for quite a while. But that morning didn't repeat the same spectacle; the most you could see was a subtle glow on the horizon.

Maybe my exhaustion would have been worth it if the sun had shone brightly over the ocean, but in that early morning hour, I felt regretful for not having stayed in the warmth of my bed. To make matters worse, I had jumped the gate, so now I was locked outside, since it was impossible to scale it from the outside in. I would have to wait until my aunt and uncle woke up so I could get back inside.

I felt discouraged by that thought. I tried to take a deep breath, but I truly had no strength left. The heavy emotions from the night before, along with the realization that I wouldn't get to see the sun on this trip, came back to haunt me.

Accepting that situation was proving difficult, so I decided to walk to pass the time. I walked back and forth along the beach, talking to myself and trying to feel the divine in the ocean waves, just as I had written only two days before. But trying to force that connection is something that always brings more pain.

I left the beach and found myself back in the town; the clock read 8:00 a.m. I had already sent a text to my godmother asking if she was awake, but no reply so far.

I thought about walking back home slowly and calling her when I arrived, but that felt like a bad idea, going back home in that mood would be terrible.

So I decided to walk toward the rocks from the day before, to find a spot where I could lean back and let my body relax.

I found the perfect spot: the grassy area of the small cove.

I spread my beach towel on the grass, on a slight slope that allowed me to look at the ocean as I lay down. It was the exact moment my body finally surrendered, letting go of all its weight and feeling completely supported by the earth.

I realized I hadn't listened to any music all day. So I put on a very gentle Indigenous chant, and without any effort, the ocean waves began to take on a special glow.

I breathed slowly, listening to the music. Sometimes with my eyes closed, sometimes watching the waves, and soon I began to relax and open up naturally, without forcing anything.

In time, song after song, breath after breath, those thoughts of frustration, regret, and sadness began to dissolve.

A quiet peace took their place.

Then 'Komaroya' began to play, a chant from the Yawanawa people that became deeply special to me after hearing it in an Ayahuasca ceremony.

Listening to it, I felt the urge to sing. So I sat up and began to sing to the waves and to the gray sky, which by now was at least showing some contrast between the clouds.

The sun was rising in the sky, and the day was growing brighter.

As I sang, I felt it was time to play the maracá, and I wanted to move closer to the rocks and the ocean. When I stood up and pulled my sarong, I noticed a piece of plant fiber stuck to it, some kind of dried vine. I used it to make a small craft in the shape of a rhombus. I actually tried to make a circle, like when I craft earrings with coconut palm fiber, but the vine had a different texture, and this sacred symbol, rich with meaning, naturally formed between my fingers. To me, the rhombus symbolizes completeness, as well as a portal of consciousness.

Accompanied by this small handmade piece and some incense for the caboclos, I began to sing.

I sang so much. The wonderful thing about singing is that once I start, I never want to stop; it makes me want to sing all morning long.

When I finished, I felt called to make another prayer, just like the afternoon before.

I climbed onto the rocks and began to give thanks, thanking and expressing gratitude endlessly.

It was impossible to reflect on the sacredness of those rocks without thinking of the Guarani people, from whom I learned that the rocks are our ancestors. I thanked them from the bottom of my heart.

I thanked Yemanjá and wrapped up my prayer by shaking the maracá

I gathered my things to leave, and as I was heading down the sidewalk, I thought to myself: “I’d better go along the beach.” So I went down a flight of stairs right where I was standing, and to my surprise, I found my greatest gift of the day: an Indigenous face carved into the rock!

I was so moved to see that face right there, on the very rocks where I had been praying just moments before! I immediately took a picture of the sculpture, and right next to it were vibrant purple flowers of a unique, almost poetic beauty.

Those photos were the perfect crowning moment to that blessed morning.

Later, once I was back home, I searched the photo on Google and discovered that this sculpture is named 'Curumim.' It was created by the artist Francisco Gomes de Oliveira in 1952 as a tribute to the Indigenous peoples who have inhabited these lands for thousands of years.

I thought this artist was truly revolutionary for expressing such honor toward Indigenous peoples at a time when prejudice was even deeper than what we see today.

I felt so happy to see that sculpture persisting for over seventy years.

I felt light, peaceful; it was nearly 10 a.m. Up to that point, my godmother still hadn't answered the text I’d sent, but something inside me knew she would reply at just the right moment.

It was as I was walking toward home, expecting my phone to buzz at any second, that I had an idea that would test my intuition and synchronicity.

I decided to turn the corner and stop by the market on the street behind the house.

Just as I was leaving the market, I got her text saying she was awake. I knew it would happen in perfect timing!

When I arrived in front of the house, I told her that I had jumped out and that's why I needed her to let me in. It was then that she showed me how ridiculously easy it was to open the gate: there was no lever needed at all, you just had to open the small motor cover.

I couldn't help but laugh at myself for going through that whole adventure of jumping the wall.

Looking back, though, it was thanks to that very mishap that I had the best morning of all. A morning that started out heavy and sad transformed into the purest joy and lightness, complete with life's unexpected gifts!

If I hadn't been 'stuck' outside, I probably wouldn't have experienced all the magic I did, and for that reason, I always, always trust in the flow of life. Ahmyo. Everything is in perfect order; nothing happens by chance.

With that, I wrap up the narrative of my three days in Torres.

I hope my stories about the magic in ordinary, everyday life have served to bring you reflection, inspiration, or at least a bit of entertainment!

My purpose in sharing is always to serve. I would love to hear what you thought of today’s story, and I’d love it even more if you have a story of your own to share!

A warm hug, and until next time.

With love, Liah’ah.