We’re packed into the dark basement of a boat that seems like it could fall apart at any minute, chugging across a massive lake at a speed slower than someone learning to swim.

Eventually, a loud CLUNK signals our arrival, and the local dock man waves at us to climb out the lower window onto the swaying pier. A huge volcano looms in the distance, complete with misty rings encircling its active cone. Just as we’re beginning to appreciate the fresh air and abundance of personal space, the “chicken bus” pulls into view.

Crammed standing into a rumbling vehicle with barely enough space to breathe, I reflect on what would happen if it flipped. We’d probably just become another news article; another statistic of an accident in a faraway country meriting little attention.

Then finally, arriving to a very different scene, the remote bus stop greets us with lush jungle and monkeys hopping between branches. Thoughts of mortality fade into the distance as the bus departs.

After a hitch-hike followed by a hodgepodge of locals pointing us in different directions, we stumble upon our bamboo hut. Our little piece of peaceful paradise in which we will embark on a new type of journey the following day. This time, a journey into the mind.

Silent self-retreat schedule written, laptop pre-downloaded with dharma talks, food and water prepped. Everything ready to go. Nothing but quiet jungle and blissful meditation for the next 3 days.

Or so we thought…

Reality is always different from expectation. It’s been said that the size of the gap between the two is inversely related to happiness. But knowing that hardly makes it easier when unexpected circumstances make the gap widen.

It turns out, the “quiet” bamboo hut we found on the internet was actually located in a thriving local village. To make things even better, the middle-of-the-week date we carefully planned happened to be Nicaraguan National Independence holiday week.

Startling Latin music and hip hop blasting at all hours, children running amock using high-pitched screams to echolocate each other, machete-wielding men noisily taking down foliage directly next to our hut, thunderstorms and pouring rain during attempted outdoor meditations, and a 20-hour village-wide power outage (which actually helped a lot with the blaring music).

Practice might make perfect, but the practice itself is never perfect. And so we struggled in silence through the onslaught of distraction. Committing ourselves to an inner rollercoaster of thoughts, emotions, pain, and insight. No getting off the ride once it’s going on the tracks.

Crossing the finish line on the final morning was a glorious feeling. And as we feasted on perfectly ripe papaya, our speaking voices slowly returned. Laughs were had at the shared difficulties, and contemplation took place over the various new ideas and insights which had been illuminated by the stillness and silence.

Months of stress and doubt that had been lingering over me since the early days of planning The B.E.L.L. Center melted away as our self-retreat’s virtual dharma guide (Jack Kornfield) reminded us of a beautiful lesson.

The obstacles are the path. Love the process. Learn to “dance in the rain”.

It turns out, all I needed to do was remember our own motto after which the center has been named. But that’s what mindfulness is; a continuous process of remembering. Remembering who you are, why you’re here, and what you’re capable of.

Normal life has a tendency to make those things blurry over time. I’m sure there are many more tough times ahead in this adventure into the unknown. But I feel settled in knowing I have a powerful tool to expose them as what they really are. Merely steps on the path.

Intentional practice builds awareness. Awareness unlocks creativity. Creative insight generates motivation. Motivation makes amazing things happen.

Hope to see you at The B.E.L.L. Center in 2023 (or in one of our online offerings beforehand), where we plan to show you a way to unlock your potential through awareness.