A Very Precious Thing
January 10, 2025

In my experience, relationships between women have a bright potential to be complicated. Much more complicated than my relationships with men.

Men don’t need to talk things out for … weeks. Men don’t spend a lot of time wondering what we might be thinking (even though I wouldn’t mind if they did it a little bit more). This makes for simpler, more straight-lined connections.

As a generalization.

Also, the complexity of women-to-women relationships is what can make them so fulfilling. We go deep, we come back and dig a little more. And when we walk away, it can be hard.

One beautiful facet of my women friendships is that we can be really good at supporting each other. For a moment or for a lifetime. Friends or even strangers.

A few months back, during the height of the rainy season. I had driven to the village, grateful once again that my car was tall and strong and could cross the three Rios without me having to give it much thought. On the way home and as I approached the gently flowing river, I noticed a small car stopped right smack in the middle of the water. Not good. On my side of the Rio, a small young woman in a pale blue sundress looked stressed. Not realizing the car was hers, I asked if she wanted a ride to the other side. No, no, she said. I need help getting my car out.

Oh.

She explained that her car had stopped running as she was halfway across and didn’t know what to do.

Just as I was thinking that my car could probably pull hers, two men arrived, one of them possibly her partner. As they brainstormed what to do, I offered to attach the two cars together and get hers to the other side that way.

They liked the idea, got ropes, waded into the water, attached one end to each car and when they gave me the thumbs up, I pressed the gas. At first, I could feel some resistance, and then, nothing. I looked back and they were waving at me to stop. The rope had broken.
The woman was in the water up to her knees and visibly distressed.

I then offered to make my way to the other side of the river, position myself right behind her car, and gently push it with mine. They pondered that for a bit and then decided that no, what they would do would be to get another guy and instead push the car backward and up the sandy bank.

When the third man arrived, I settled into my seat, leaned over the steering wheel, and watched, holding my breath with each uno, dos, tres that seemed to rock the car each time a little bit more.

The woman had her back to me, hands on the hood and she too was pushing. Just as I thought that really, she could let the guys do it, she turned and gestured for me to … do something. I wasn’t sure what. Had they decided that they wanted my car to push after all? I mouthed something to her, asking for clarification. No, she gestured back. She wanted me next to her, pushing too. I laughed and mouthed again (mouthing in Spanish is pretty fun, it turns out) that I wasn’t strong enough to make any difference. But she was determined and wanted me with her. Maybe she had noticed that I had gone to the gym a couple of times lately, I wondered.

I got out of my nice dry car and waded thighs-deep into a water that I know not to be the cleanest water. The woman smiled and made room for my hands next to hers and then we did the uno, dos, tres again, me doing more visualizing than actual pushing. The car certainly was rocking and with her eyes looking into mine and me laughing because this was pretty silly, the next uno, dos, tres propelled it out!

She was SO thrilled. She high-fived me as though she and I had moved this huge hunk of metal to dry ground all on our own.

For a second, she made me believe that maybe we had.

The whole thing was wild and powerful and as I made my way home I pondered - and have since - about this special thing that happens between women. How we reach for each other, need each other. How we intuitively know, maybe from some long ago memory, that together, we are so strong, unstoppable.

This is a very precious thing for us to know, and to live with.

https://lauralavigne.substack.com/p/a-very-precious-thing

I woke up feeling a little off.

It often happens after a trip to the US and also the first day of the year seems to always beg me for “a bilan,” as we say in French. Taking stock. Where have you been? Where are you going? That kind of light early morning conversation.

I felt weird. A bit hollow as though my compass has stopped working. Where HAVE I been? Where AM I going?

As is often the case, my heart lives in many places and this morning, it did not feel good. It made me doubt. Doubting is not something I do well.

I moved slowly, listening to The Voices. Not all of them were nice. They whispered about time wasted, about WHYs, and about HOWs. They reminded me of all the people I love who are so far away and what the hell I am doing.

I let them talk.

I made my bed.

And then I was given a Gift.

I had a visual memory of exactly four years ago today.

I let the memory take me on a little trip.

Four years ago today Lila, my backpack and I landed in Puerto Vallarta. It had been a rough flight and I was looking forward to settling into the little cabin I had rented for us, an hour away from the city in this little village I had fallen in love with after just spending a few days there months before.

It was time.

Mexico had been calling me for decades and the combination pandemic and my kids no longer needing me to live in the same country as they did gave me the green light (funny enough, they all met me down here within months).

Before leaving and with my out-loud voice I had committed to staying four months. Standing on the north end of the beach later that day, I heard myself say: “I am never leaving.” I still recall the feeling in my body when the words came out.

The little cabin was modest and enchanting. Within weeks I found myself researching out to apply for residency. Time passed. I started to dream in Spanish.

It was not easy, and it wasn’t easy for Lila either as she was getting a lot of attention from local dogs. We would walk out of the house and I would tell her: “We can do this.” Then I would put on her leash, take a deep breath, and off we would go into the busy cobblestoned streets. One day, I left her leash at home and forgot to take a deep breath. She trotted with me to the beach and back and that’s when she honed Her Special Look, the one she has been giving to over-flirty dogs for four years now. She learned this trick quicker than I did.

The four-month mark came and went and I signed a longer lease on the little cabin. My family came to visit. I received my residency papers. Tiji-the-cat became part of our family.

I made a few really good friends.

One day while on a long country walk with Lila, a few weeks shy of having been here a year a man working outside asked me why I was walking there, away from the village. “I am looking for land to buy” came out of my mouth. I had not known that I was looking for land to buy.

Two months later, I was putting down a small down payment on a plot of dirt at the edge of the jungle, and before the end of the year, a day before a hurricane arrived, we were moving into a little house I had first drawn on a napkin. Note: these were very long months and one of the hardest things I have done.

Because we are living on the other side of three river crossings and because gas is expensive, I bought a quad and then learned to ride it. Lila took a little time getting used to it but now she loves it.

I kept writing, and teaching. I held some Retreats.

And then I started painting.

For realsies this time. After years and years of letting my art be a side dish, I finally brought it to the front burner. I have held several shows in the last year, some down here and one in the States. I turned my bedroom into an art studio and people tell me they love my work, I am selling it, and the best part: I am creating art that make people smile, art that honors them, too.

Last spring, around Lila’s 5th birthday and as the birth of my baby granddaughter was adding one more string to the ones that connect me to my life across the border, Marley-the-pup became part of our little jungle family. We love her madly.

Something about the date, something about making the bed, something about lifting the lens higher up helped so very much.

It’s not perfect. Pieces of my heart are sprinkled across many miles. I have possibly priced myself out of living in the States again. I don’t know what next year looks like.

AND also

My life is so very lined up with my Essences. I have met a much braver, freer me than I ever knew. My spiritual connection has grown so rich. I have gotten both tougher and softer.
And I have seen how much can be done in four years.

That part excites me a lot because, on the night of my birthday last week, I had a dream, a vision. And this new braver me knows that if this is the right invitation, I will be able to give it a sweetly strong YES.

So yeah. Making my bed was a good idea. So was daring to take stock and letting The Voices do their things.

This is my New Year’s message to you: You can make big changes by starting to say Yes to just one thing. Then another. It’s ok not to know what the next thing will be. It’s ok to wonder.

You can learn so much, stretch so much, discover so much, and meet so many parts of you you haven’t met yet. That part is super fun.

There are many ways to play.

I wish YOU a very Happy New Year 🧡

PS: for those of you who are interested in joining me in Mexico for an infusion of inspiration AND powerful tools, I am considering offering a weekend “Back to Me” Retreat on March 15 and 16th. Email me for more info.