At the end of the day, leaving my job wasn’t something I actually wanted to do. What I really wanted was to have it all—the fancy, well-paying corporate job, the yoga retreats and trainings, the adventurous life—working when I wanted, playing when I wanted. But after five years of working for the same company, I was confronted with a choice—do I follow my head or follow my heart? For most of my life, I had been following my head pretty religiously—with the rare detour into the heart, if just for a fleeting moment. At least following my head gave me the illusion of safety. Yet, there comes a point when the heart grows so loud, the head starts to lose its grip. After five years , enough time had passed for my heart to take over the narrative.

And so in May of 2025, I finally made the decision—a decision that was, in hindsight, inevitable. I could either continue on the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had only followed my heart, or I could just do it and not be left with the regret of never having tried. Five years of dreaming of moving back to Central America—five years of longing to spend more time outside, speaking more Spanish, teaching more yoga, leaning more into spirituality and mindfulness – could it all really come true? I remember the day I made the decision, I put on a song I recently heard and loved, and I cried. Tears of joy, tears of loss, tears of confusion. Trusting yourself enough to go after your crazy dreams can be quite cathartic.

And so in May of 2024, I finally made the decision—a decision that was, in hindsight, inevitable. I could either continue on the rest of my life wondering what would have happened if I had only followed my heart, or I could just do it and not be left with the regret of never having tried.Five years of dreaming of moving back to Central America—five years of longing to spend more time outside, speaking more Spanish, teaching more yoga, leaning more into spirituality and mindfulness – could it all really come true? I remember the day I made the decision, I put on a song I recently heard and loved, and I cried. Tears of joy, tears of loss, tears of confusion. Trusting yourself enough to go after your crazy dreams can be quite cathartic.

In the following weeks, I began putting plans into place. Making lists of everything I needed to do— what would I take with me? What would I sell? What would I do with the things I chose to keep? What doctors’ appointments did I need? Health Insurance? My car? How much money was enough money to have saved? Where would I go first? How far out should I plan? There were so many questions that needed to be answered, and I began to fall prey to the stress of it all. I had many therapy sessions and started including lots of “mental health breaks” throughout my day. I spent countless hours wondering if I was absolutely insane, considering what would happen if I “failed,” trying to convince myself that I wasn’t irresponsible for trying. Yet each day, I reminded myself that if I just put one foot in front of the other, eventually I would make it to the other side. With small steps in a forward direction, I would reach my destination. And so, I continued on. I quit my job two months after receiving a promotion and a raise—at that point, unwavering in my resolve.

After much thought and planning, the day eventually came when it was time to head off to my first destination—Lake Atitlan, Guatemala—specifically, a little town called Tzununá, a Mayan word which means “Valley of the Hummingbirds.” Soon after arriving, I felt a calm wash over me, like my body had been stuck in a perpetual inhale and was finally ready to exhale. My adventure started with an herbalism and permaculture training (an experience you can read more about here) and continued on to include a trip to the beach, assisting with two yoga teacher trainings, and a Kirtan Retreat (singing mantras).

After three months spent in this little town, I had the strong feeling that I needed to be here. This year was meant to be one of traveling, teaching yoga, growing as a space holder, and exploring many different places, communities and cultures. Yet, I could not ignore what my intuition was telling me—that I was supposed to be in Tzununá.

At first, I searched around for volunteer opportunities and began telling everyone my intention to stay , determined to do whatever it took to make my vision a reality. I saw the undeniable potential for growth—both personally and professionally—and I knew the potential was too great to pass up. And while I would have volunteered somewhere if that’s what it took to remain a part of this community, there was a part of me that knew there must be better opportunities awaiting me.

Within a week’s time, I met Lauren McGarigal. Lauren was a student at a continuing education training I was assisting on with Breath Body Earth Yoga School. She also happened to be the new owner of Saasil Retreat Center in Tzununa. Upon our meeting, I asked Lauren where she was from. She’d been living in Coos Bay, Oregon but just moved to Tzununá, she told me.

“Oh nice, I’m actually looking for opportunities in Tzununá,” I said, hoping that she might catch my not so subtle hint. That week Lauren mentioned to me that they might be looking for a new manager, and she started asking me questions that gave me hope she might be considering me for the role. By the end of the week, she had asked me to come and work with them.

So on January 11th, a little over three months into my travels, I moved myself officially to the small community of Tzununá, to do something I had never done before—manage a yoga retreat center.

Within no time, I was completely in love. In love with the nature, the way of life, but most importantly, with the community. I felt myself coming to life—in good ways and also in difficult ways—often times when we find a sense of joy and safety, our bodies finally feel safe enough to feel all the things it has been putting off.

Tzununá is the kind of place that invites you to meet yourself—to uncover your hidden parts. They say the lake shows you all your shadows more clearly. Just as we see our reflection in the water, being next to one of the deepest lakes in the world forces us into deep self-reflection. Just as the volcanoes provide portals into the magma of the earth, being surrounded by volcanoes brings up that within us which would otherwise remain buried beneath the surface.

All of this is to say, it hasn’t been as glamorous as it sounds or looks like to the outside world (just as I was writing this at 9 PM at night, our caretaker knocked on my door to tell me the water went out in one of our buildings). But no matter the emotion – the joy, the pain—I have felt more myself than ever before. My mind, body and heart have all noticeably loosened their grip, given up the fight to be anything other than what they are – soft, gentle, emotional, and at times achy and tired from the pain of gripping for so long. That’s not to say I no longer grip or hold onto tension-- ask any one of my previous massage therapists, and they’ll confirm the impenetrable brick wall I carry on my back-- I’m only human after all, and a lifetime of living with anxiety is difficult to undo in just a few short months. Yet, I have received so much from the decision to listen to the calling of my heart—the spaciousness of living in nature, the compassion and understanding from all those who live here, the permission to show up as I am, and the daily invitation to keep a level head despite the many ups and downs of managing a large property with a diverse team. All of these things have allowed me to slowly turn these bricks into clay, letting myself be a little softer with each passing day.

In this process, I have discovered that the function of the head is to plan and the function of the heart is to trust. In trusting my heart, I landed here. And “here” has served me exactly as I hoped it would. And while my head is still unsure of my next steps in life, my heart knows that if I continue to follow its lead, one step at a time, I will make my way to whatever awaits me on the other side—to a life filled with even greater purpose, meaning and love. Maybe that’s what it really means to have it all.

A Journey Into the Heart

Being There For It All.