“Between Austria and Italy, there is a section of the Alps called the Semmering. It is an impossibly steep, very high part of the mountains. They built a train track over these Alps to connect Vienna and Venice. They built these tracks even before there was a train in existence that could make the trip. They built it because they knew some day, the train would come.”  from Under the Tuscan Sun.

I dropped my roommates off at the bus stop early in the morning, so the house is uncharacteristically quiet this evening.  My throat is still feeling the effects of the wind and rain that create the mid-season in Monteverde as we await the hot, dry summer months ahead in Costa Rica.

I scoop out the last bit of Nutella, and toast the remaining pieces of homemade bread to ease my throat, and add some cinnamon and cardamom to my coffee.  Not exactly an Ayurvedic remedy, by any means, but medicinal, just the same.

I find an extra blanket upstairs in the Yoga studio.  As I open it to lay over the bed, I realize it has arms.

This must be what they call a Snuggie! Perfecto!  I think to myself.  I need some snuggle.

The dogs quickly follow suit and find their spaces, sandwiching me in to the center of the bed.

I open my computer and scan Netflix, finding Under the Tuscan Sun, one of my all-time favorites!

The protagonist, Frances, played by Diane Lane, is prompted out of a post-divorce slump on a tour of Italy.  It is through a sequence of events and divine signs that lead her to purchase a run-down villa and olive orchard in the village of Cortona.

One of the first nights alone in her house, a terrible storm ensues and the sky alive with lightning. Her only company is a little barn owl keeping watch at the edge of her antique wrought-iron bed as she pulls the covers over her head and hunkers down for the night.

As the storm scene plays out, I can feel her fear.  The winds are strong and fierce outside of my bedroom windows.  I can feel the house almost creak and sway from the strong presence of nature.  I put the movie on pause and let the dogs out before it gets any later.

We jump back into the bed, and the movie continues.  I notice Asoka staring at something in the corner.  It is one of the larger scorpions I have seen in recent years in Costa Rica.

It feels somewhat of an omen, Frances, weathering the storm in Italy under the covers with the owl as her watchful totem.  Me, under the covers in the Costa Rican cloud forest winds with the scorpion in the corner as the walls rattle.

I have seen this movie time and time before, but tonight, it has a different effect.  Perhaps, the stirring it has in me is because I am in a different place as the observer.  I come back to her story, because it reflects something about my story.  Her night under the covers feels so primal as I watch from my place in the world.  I can feel her fear, because I feel my own.  Yet, at the same time, I am not scared.

I am curious as to what is to come, knowing that I am laying down the tracks.  There is no timeline, no need to be completed by a certain date, because the train has yet to be in existence.  But, when the train is ready, it has to have the tracks to lead its way.

“Like fanning through a deck of cards, my mind flashes on the thousand chances, trivial to profound, that converged to re-create this place. Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.  My rational thought process clings always to the idea of free will, random events; my blood, however, streams easily along a current of fate.”  Frances Mayes, Under the Tuscan Sun.

My morning meditation is that of the spiral that has led me here, the littlest promptings that I have followed, to the larger ones; the certain steps to the not so certain tumblings.  Through the suggestions of my fellow travelers, the teachers in the form of people and animals who continue to walk with me as my impressions are uncovered, I experience each as an important guide to my unfolding story.  It becomes clearer as the wind blows through my hair and the scorpion reminds me of the power of transformation that is really just the dance of dissolution and creation. I am once again reminded that the unseen imprints can be even more powerful than the world of the seen.

“Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.”

And, to the seeker following spirit as the tracks before her, the arbitrary steps become laden with the essence of the unfolding story that was already there, like the mustard seed. These grooves lead us to the most amazing vista that we can never solely contrive through our individual effort of hard, personal will.  Our heart’s desires become seen as we listen, respond in earnest and show up to do the work that divine has in its ultimate plan…as confusing and difficult as it may feel along the way.

And, often times, the best gifts comes when we step back a bit, enjoy the moment and actually see the effects of our previous steps.  As we widen our lens, we just might see the many blessings that are right before us that may not have been acknowledged by being too close to the picture itself.

May we remember to see, feel and honor the many gifts of this holiday season, even beyond the ones hidden in boxes under the trees.

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