From black hole to shining star

On June 11th at 11:11 a.m., a stranger messaged me. The universe must have known that, on June 12th, I would have a meltdown, and the one who would help me rise again was the person whose name had just popped up on my phone.

For the first six months of this year, I would wake up every morning wishing I didn’t exist. January 1st brought devastating news that shook my family, and I ended up seeking solace from a situation that had already shattered my confidence for far too long. On top of that, I was juggling two jobs and trying to be an entrepreneur yet somehow, my finances never seemed stable.

As winter crept towards spring, I sank deeper into darkness. Anxiety filled my chest and at an alarming pace, PTSD-symptoms such as panic attacks, flashbacks and nightmares returned to my life. Still, I kept thinking: “If I can just make it for one more day, one more week, one more month, then everything will be alright.” I kept practicing gratitude and feverishly repeated affirmations, but nothing worked.

Then came June 12th, and everything crashed. My spirit was broken, and I knew that something had to change. Fortunately, the summer holidays were just around the corner so I escaped to Madeira, where I hiked to the highest mountain and slowly started picking up the pieces. As the fog of past events lifted, the stranger who had messaged me earlier came into focus.

By now, I knew that his name was Luke and that he lived in Australia. I knew he liked the colour green and shared my passion for hiking. I also learned that he had gone through past struggles not unlike my own. We had a clarity call to see if his coaching would be right for me and despite my initial hesitation, I was struck by his genuine compassion.

I asked the universe for a sign, and for the rest of my holidays, the name Luke rained over me. In every book I read and every movie I watched, there was a character named Luke. If I listened to a podcast, there was a guest named Luke. If I discovered a new song, it would be sung by an artist called Luke (or Luca). I even saw his name written on a lamp post! The message was loud and clear.

Once I returned home, Luke offered me another clarity call and the next day, I sent him all the money I had at the time. My friends were skeptical. “What if he hypnotises you and then switches off the computer and you stay hypnotised forever?” one of them worried. “Don’t give him any information!” another one advised.

But I knew that if this was going to work, I would have to trust Luke completely. I would have to be brave, and vulnerable. My decision was not based on reviews or referrals, or even logic (in hindsight, I could have done more research). It was pure intuition. I was fully committed, ready and desperate to change my life.

And so Luke and I embarked on a 6-week quantum transformation journey, including timeline therapy and reprogramming of the subconscious mind, delving into traumas and underlying blocks. One by one, we cleared out negative emotions such as anger, sadness, fear, hurt and guilt, and rewired my nervous system for positive emotions. We removed negative beliefs and installed new empowered beliefs.

The rapid changes were astonishing, and newfound joy fuelled my motivation. Luke sent me six digital courses to work on in between our sessions and after just a few weeks, I had gone through them all, surprised to discover that I had become extremely interested in neuroscience. Engrossed, I devoured any information I could find and filled notebook after notebook.

About halfway through, I unexpectedly fell back into the black hole that I thought I had expanded from. Only this time, I managed to crawl out of it myself and found that I could stand firmly on my own two feet. That’s when I knew that something fundamental had shifted.

The coaching program was not an easy process for me. There were days when I didn’t show up as my best self and there were days when I wanted to quit because there were past events that I didn’t dare to revisit. There were times when I felt embarrassed, and there were times when I felt lost in between sessions. There were, however, more moments when I felt truly connected, and I experienced profound love and happiness. No matter what, I kept going, knowing Luke would always be there to support me.

Step by step, my spirit began to heal. These days, I wake up excited to do yoga and see what else the day brings. I haven’t had a panic attack in months, and my sleep is no longer interrupted by nightmares. I can breathe more easily, and for the first time in my life, I feel safe and at home in my body. My confidence has improved and I feel more comfortable being myself. I worry less about what other people think and focus more on creating my own path.

I have learned how to set boundaries, proving that I can stand up for myself and make the right decisions. I now understand that it is not my job to protect others from facing the consequences of their own actions. I have found a strength inside myself that I never knew I had.

I have gone from feeling burned out at work to showing up each day full of energy. I feel a lot more comfortable in my teacher role, whether it’s teaching languages, dance or yoga. In January, all my yoga courses were canceled, but when I offered them again in August, they sold out within an hour!

Two years ago, I published my first book, which was followed by imposter syndrome and writer’s block. Now, I’m writing every day again, which feels fantastic. I have set new goals for the future and I’m excitedly taking steps towards them. My motto is “I’m happy in the present moment, and I allow good things to come to me.”

At 42, I feel like life is just beginning. This experience has inspired me so much that I have even decided to study hypnotherapy for a year. Perhaps helping others is the best way to thank the no-longer stranger who popped into my life and changed everything for the better.

Between heaven and earth, the ocean and the sky

Flower island, pearl of the Atlantic, the Hawaii of Europe... the volcanic island of Madeira goes by many names, and this is what drew me to venture here for a week at the beginning of July. While usually offering a mild climate all year round, Madeira's weather can be unpredictable. "You will get rained on," my guide book said and sure enough, as the plane descended, the raindrops danced on the windows.

Madeira's allure, however, extends far beyond idyllic sunbathing and leisurely swims. In fact, most of the beaches here are made of pebbles so if you're looking for sandy stretches, you may want to head to the nearby island of Porto Santo, where sand has been imported from the Sahara desert. Not a typical beach enthusiast, I had instead planned a holiday filled with activities, from climbing volcanoes and swimming in secluded lagoons to diving with dolphins and learning how to surf.

My main goal was to conquer Pico Ruivo, the highest peak in Madeira at 1,861 meters above sea level. Two days after my arrival on the island, a guide picked me up at 5 a.m. and we drove up the mountains to witness a breathtaking sunrise above the clouds. From Pico do Arieiro, our starting point, we hiked along steep trails to reach the top. Not used to the altitude and the heat, I ran out of steam fairly quickly. Nevertheless, I persisted, putting one foot in front of the other, ascending what is often referred to as "the stairway to heaven."

While the stunning scenery was certainly rewarding, it wasn't enough motivation for me. To persevere with heatstroke and aching joints, I had to tap into my inner strength, my Finnish "sisu." What also helped was seeing butterflies gracefully flutter around me throughout the hike. These insects bring so much colour, lightness and joy. As symbols of powerful transformation, they also remind us to welcome change without trying to control the outcome. At the end of our journey, we will inevitably emerge different than when we started. 

Unaware of how challenging the hike would be, I had booked a surfing lesson for the next morning. So after only a few hours of sleep, I headed towards Machico beach to meet Roberto, the surf instructor. We began with dry land practice, honing our technique before plunging into the water. "Only one thing is certain," Roberto said. "You will fall." And fall I did, over and over again. But each time, I crawled back up on the surfboard and paddled out to wait patiently for the next wave to arrive. Eventually, I started to make progress and managed to stand up for shorter moments. 

"Believe in yourself!" Roberto shouted as he gave my surfboard a push. "This wave has been waiting its whole life for you to ride it. The only thing worse than falling would be not trying." Encouraged by his words, I gave it my all and in doing so, wholeheartedly fell in love with the practice of surfing and everything that it entails. It may have been my first lesson, but it will definitely not be my last. I can't wait to return to the ocean, catch more waves and immerse myself in the joy of surfing.

Staying in our comfort zone is not how we learn. Hence, for my next day of adventure, I impulsively booked a tour with Joao, a guide known for his spontaneous approach. "I never make plans," he texted me beforehand, "so you should be prepared for anything." He picked me up at 7 a.m. and off we went, driving along the winding roads of Madeira. A native of the island, Joao brought me to mesmerising waterfalls, hidden away from the crowds. We swam in the crater of a dormant volcano, walked along the ancient levadas (irrigation channels), hiked up a mountain and all in all, had an enchanting day. Twelve hours later, I arrived back at my apartment, utterly exhausted but deeply content with a sense of fulfilment in my soul. 

As a final adventure, I signed up for a dolphin and whale watching tour with seven fellow travellers. Early morning found us huddled together on a tiny speedboat, ready to embark on our ocean quest. "Look for birds," our guide Natascha advised us. "Where there are birds, there will be fish and where there is prey, there will be predators." Far away from the shore, a flock of birds started circling our boat and soon after, dolphins were jumping all around us. What a delight! One by one, we were instructed to slowly and silently glide into the water, clinging to a rope attached to the boat and breathing through a snorkel. 

I waited my whole life to swim with dolphins in the ocean, and the initial moments of my experience were absolutely incredible. Then, the dizziness hit me like a ton of bricks in the head, leaving me gasping for air. I tried gesturing to the people on the boat, but no one noticed as they were all too mesmerised by the ballet of sea creatures. Panicking, I hit the side of the boat and Natascha finally pulled my shaking body out of the water. "You have vertigo," she said gently. "Sometimes the depth can trigger it. Give it another try and I'll stay close to you this time." With her reassurance, I put on the goggles, grabbed the rope, slid back into the water and swam behind the dolphins while Natascha held onto my wrist. "I'm so proud of you," she whispered, beaming as she helped me climb back onto the boat. 

A mixture of pride and relief washed over me. I felt dizzy and nauseous for the rest of the day, but seeing the beauties of the ocean was definitely worth it. 

On this trip, I came to a profound realisation - embarking on adventures is as essential for me as breathing. I may not know what the road ahead looks like, nor am I sure of my destination, but I'm willing to embrace the uncertainty and take chances. The path is never linear, nor is it ever entirely smooth. There will be moments of rain, and there will be times when I stumble and fall. But I never feel more alive than on top of a mountain or far out in the ocean. These experiences serve as a reminder of how insignificantly small we may seem, and yet how remarkable and interconnected we are. In the words of 13th-century poet Rumi: "we are not mere drops in the ocean, but the entire ocean in one drop."

Waves of change

"Ellie, deja que la vida fluye," my Ecuadorian friend W always says to me. Let life flow. I agree with him but as we all know, it's not so easy to let go of control. Before I left my home in Quito, I wrote a post about feeling like I was drowning and a friend that I met in Thailand many years ago commented: "You will float, you will float, you will float". She wasn't wrong and her comment became my mantra whenever I felt myself sinking again, but I don't think she or anyone else could have imagined that it would take two whole years before I would once again trust the ocean enough to stop treading water and just... float. 

It wasn't until I actually went out into the real ocean a couple of weeks ago that I realized I've finally let go of the fight. I have stopped resisting the natural flow of things.

I was on a tour with a group of hikers and setting off in the beautiful hippie paradise called Caños de Meca, we hiked towards the coastal town of Barbate, stopping several times along the way to cool down with a dip in the ocean. Towards the end of our hike, I walked out into the water alone, distancing myself from the group. Out in the deep blue sea, I stretched out my arms and my legs to float on the waves, something I literally hadn't done for years. I have mostly gone to Finland in the winter and last summer, my only contact with water was freezing my toes off in the Atlantic ocean outside Portugal. The beaches in Ecuador are outstanding but there, the waves were too big to swim.

As I was floating around in the crystal blue water, I noticed that all the spaces in my body that used to be filled with something or someone now somehow seemed hollow. I also felt small, in a good way. We are but tiny drops in a vast ocean of uncertainty, but if we move with the waves of change, we may eventually end up where we are supposed to be. 

Due to the Covid-19 situation around the world, I am currently without a job and need to leave my apartment at the end of this month, without knowing where to go or what to do next. That's the thing about floating - it's basically drifting around with no destination.

What I take with me from Seville is a strong sense of community. I have always found support here, whether it's been in the form of friends, fellow hikers, yogis, colleagues, roommates, partners, or my church family. I have reached out for help and equally so, I have been the one to hold out a hand when someone needed me. For my first yoga class, I created a new mantra for myself and my students: I am safe. I am supported. I am loved. 

At the moment, I feel like circles are closing. I recently bought my last monthly pass at the yoga studio that has been like a second home to me for a year. Two months in Seville turned into twelve as I decided to stay and complete a yoga teacher training here and I have no regrets. Never have I dedicated so much effort into something that turned out to be equally rewarding. During the course, I came to understand that the true essence of yoga has very little to do with asanas; it is more about connecting to the breath, finding balance and recognizing the truth within ourselves. I learned how to awaken my senses, surrender to what is, and perhaps most importantly, to experience joy again. 

Even though there are some things, and some people, that I will probably never be able to let go of, I do feel like I have dropped some heavyweights and let them sink to the bottom. I no longer cling to anything or anyone, instead, I try to let things be and go with the flow. I now understand that acting often comes from a place of kindness whereas reacting is based on hurt. Using our breath to center ourselves can help us make a conscious choice between the two. 

If I wanted to label my experiences over the past three years, I could call them illness, shock, betrayal, anxiety, depression, distorted reality, grief, loss, posttraumatic stress... or I could turn things around and name them lessons in love, vulnerability and fear, overcoming, building courage, improving my health, healing and moving on.

The real question is, what happens if we drop all the labels? What remains? 

Maybe the best all of us can do this year is just to keep our heads above water. If we can remain above the surface and keep breathing, I think that is enough.

Lessons from the children

This past month, my job has consisted of playing hide and seek, making colorful crafts, singing Itsy Bitsy Spider and using flash cards to teach words such as butterfly and pencil case to four adorable children. Well, adorable when they're not arguing, being mischievous or hugging me with muddy hands anyway. After five weeks of summer camp, the kids have certainly improved their English but at the same time, they have taught me a great deal. Other than the obvious lessons, like living in the moment and being brutally honest, here are some of the things I learned from the kids this summer: 

How to do a handstand 

Well, sort of. In the break, the kids would always run out into the garden yelling: Teacher, teacher - let's gooo! while cartwheeling down the hill. At the bottom they would pick up the hula hoops and continue their circus tricks. I've never been able to do a cartwheel or spin a hula hoop in my life but I have been working on handstands in my yoga practice so after an initial attempt to escape, I gave in and joined the kids on the grass. The idea of peacefully sipping a cup of tea while watching them play had disappeared on the first day anyway. 

At first, I was terrible. I was told to go and practice against a wall because my knees were too bent. Then, once I got that down, there was still the small matter of trying to land on my feet. The kids would slowly shake their little heads in disbelief while watching me repeatedly fall over. Teacher - you need practice, the oldest girl proclaimed with a solemn look on her face. She was absolutely right but then again, practice does make perfect. I'm proud to announce that on the last day I managed to do both a cartwheel and a handstand and I was even able to spin the hula hoop around a couple of times. Okay, so it wasn't perfect but at least the kids cheered and clapped and for some reason, looking at the world upside down makes me happy.

How to negotiate

A completed worksheet is rewarded with a small sticker. Five small stickers earns you one big sticker and if you collect five big ones, you'll receive a present at the end of the week. Not hitting your classmates and and helping to clean up means you've deserved a candy that day. Finishing the educational games with a perfect score gives you the right to play a computer game of your choice for five minutes. A promise of good behaviour can extend the break with ten minutes. Everything is negotiable. Everything is a choice.

How to win someone over with your smile

An Ecuadorian friend told me once that if I smile at him, he'll do anything I want and that's how I feel about the kids. That must be why they are so good at negotiating. Apparently, crawling up into my arms and giving me a sweet (albeit toothless) smile is how you can obtain anything from stickers to candy to longer breaks. It's also a good way to secure a permanent spot in my teacher heart.

Curious to try out this seemingly effective technique, I decided to beam brightly at the slow-moving Ecuadorians who have been working on my terrace for ages now. Their job was supposed to be finished months ago but every week a new "obstacle" seemed to appear. Now, I didn't go anywhere near their dusty arms but a simple smile turned out to be enough. Two days later I came home to find that all the tiles had been laid out and this morning I was finally able to roll out my mat and do sun salutations outside. Result!

How to not be afraid of showing affection

The youngest girl in the group jumped onto my lap already on the first day. She couldn't remember my name but she obviously had no fear whatsoever of being rejected. Every day she'd skip down the stairs two steps at a time while holding my hand and trusting that I wouldn't let her fall. The other kids took a little longer to warm up but soon enough they all started fighting over who would get to sit next to me during story time and they were also constantly hugging me and asking me to braid their hair or give them piggyback rides.

Even though I'm quite happy to go back to teaching adults next week (my back is killing me), I'm going to miss the kids and their precious smiles. We can learn so much from their fearless attitude. As adults, sometimes we don't even try because we're afraid of failure. Or perhaps there's an even greater fear that some day, we might succeed. Because when we do, we have to ask ourselves the following question: If I can accomplish this, then what's stopping me from getting what I really want? There are no more excuses. What's the worst that can happen anyway?

Chilly coincidences and charming encounters

Why do you travel alone? 

The Colombian taxi driver seems concerned. He's a handsome young man in his early twenties and he doesn't understand why I've come all the way to Bogota by myself. 

Don't you have a partner? 

Ah, great. The same question that every taxi driver in Quito also loves to ask. Of course, they usually follow it up with the suggestion that I could marry an Ecuadorian. And then they chuckle, seemingly content with themselves for having found a solution to my "problem". 

The truth is that I LOVE to travel by myself, although I often forget that I do. Right before a trip I always get cold feet and wish that I could just stay home and watch Netflix instead. But once I'm on my way, I feel so happy and free. I can wander around for hours and take as many pictures as I want, without anyone sighing and hinting that maybe it's enough for now. I can have my lunch wherever and whenever I want, without anyone complaining about there being no rice and no meat. I like to eat my quinoa salad in peace, thank you very much.

This was my favorite cafe in Bogota - De Una Travel Bar

The best part, though, has to be meeting other travelers. I know that you also meet people when you're with a partner or a friend but somehow I think we're more open to it when we're traveling by ourselves. And with most people that you meet, there's an instant connection. Especially with those who are also traveling alone because they just get it. For example, on my first day in Bogota, I joined a bike tour and had a blast with five people that I'd never met before. We cycled around the city for about five hours and then decided to have lunch together. We invited our guide to join us and two people from the tour office came along as well. They were great company and we had so much fun trying local food, sharing our stories and chatting about cultural differences. Then we kissed each other on the cheek and parted ways.

Bike crew at Plaza Bolivar

Or take New Years Eve. Who wants to be alone on one of the most significant nights of the year? Yet this year, I hadn't made a single plan. If nothing else, I was just going to stay at the hostel and catch up on the many hours of sleep that I've lost over the past couple of months. As it turns out though, life had a different idea. On Friday, I got back late after a night out dancing salsa and when I arrived at the hostel, there was a fiesta going on in the reception as well. That's how I got to know the American guys that I would later spend New Years with. A friend of a friend also happened to be in Bogota that weekend and since she was staying at a hostel just around the corner, I invited her to join us on the 31st.

New Years crew at Explora Hostels 

Saturday night around 11 p.m., we all decided to walk down to Torre Colpatria to watch the fireworks and join the midnight countdown. The other girl and I were a bit late getting ready so the guys left without us, even though they had promised to be our guardians on the way (Colombian streets are rather unsafe to walk around on late at night). Since my new friend and I didn't know the way to the tower, we asked a Colombian couple on the street for directions. After initially bringing us to the wrong place (an empty plaza), they agreed to share a taxi with us and we reached the tower at about a quarter to midnight. There, we ran into our American friends again, which was a lucky coincidence in itself as the place was packed with people and we never would have found them otherwise. The timing of our arrival just happened to work out perfectly.

Anyway, the guys went on to tell us that somewhere along a dodgy street, a creepy man had come up to them and threatened them with a knife. They all claimed not to have been scared but they were clearly shook up and one of them even decided to leave the party early and return to the safe quarters of our hostel instead. When I turned around to thank the Colombian couple for bringing me and my friend to the tower, they were gone. They had disappeared in the crowd and we never saw them again. Perhaps they were the actual guardians whose job it was to get us there safely.

Bogota by night - the lit up tower is where we started the year 2017

So there we were, this odd little group of strangers suddenly turned into friends. While we were counting down the seconds to midnight, the whole tower lit up in a rainbow of colors and the fireworks sparked all over the black Bogota sky. We all hugged each other tightly, feeling chills running down our spines as we realized that this must be the best way to start a new year - by being thankful for being alive.

Now, it's a new day and a new year. A chance to start over and make things right. An opportunity to face the world with an open heart and say yes to adventure. To trust that when the time is right, life (and our guardian angels) will bring us where we need to be. Fortunately for me, that place right now happens to be a beautiful beach in Cartagena, far away from chilly Bogota. It's my first night here and I just had a lovely dinner down by the water, under the stars with a cool breeze caressing my skin. While slowly sipping a delicious coconut lemonade, I realized that maybe there are some moments that would be nice to share with someone. Then again, it is only day one - who knows where, what or with whom I'll be eating by the end of this week? And that, I  believe, is the real allure of traveling alone - the possibility that anything can happen.

Cartagena by night - view from my apartment