The Motorcycle Accident

     At the age of 17, I held an Associate’s of Arts degree and a heavy dose of ambition, but the world wasn’t quite ready for me. Because I was a minor, and female, university doors remained temporarily closed. My parents, seeing my restlessness, handed me a different kind of education:
a one-way ticket to Costa Rica to master Spanish and the art of independence.
     I arrived in a blur of tropical heat and vivid green jungle, feeling invincible. That lasted exactly one week!

​A Very Hard Lesson
     I was riding on the back of a motorcycle with a friend, when we rounded a corner and came upon three massive longhorn cows blocking the tiny jungle road.  Time slowed down, but the driver did not; instead of braking, he panicked and jumped off the moving bike, leaving me on the back to go down on the road.

Three massive longhorn cows blocked the road.

​     I hit the ground hard. My helmet saved my life, absorbing a sickening thud as my head bounced off the earth, but my right leg took the brunt of the impact. When I tried to stand, a sharp, white-hot flash told me something was wrong. I couldn’t get up; my kneecap had cracked, and that’s when the panic set in.

​Broken and Bruised in a Foreign Country
     Bruised, alone, and barely able to string a sentence together in Spanish, I looked at the cows and then at my swollen knee. Fear told me to find a hospital, but a stubborn streak of pride—the same one that got me through college early—took over. I was thousands of miles from home and determined to prove I 

I hit the ground hard.

could handle this. I refused the ER, and instead, asked for a ride back in a car to the house I was staying in.
     And thus began my "gap year", not with a nature hike or time in a language lab, but with a lesson I hadn't expected: how to heal in a land where I was still a stranger.

The Fellow Artist and Holistic Healer
     My small rented room became my entire world, but it was far from empty. I was living with an American family, and the wife, a fellow artist, also happened to be a holistic healer. She stepped in when my pride and my injury were at their worst.
     While my peers back home in Seattle were 

Casa Alta - The house I was staying at.

​sitting in lecture halls, I was sitting in a sun-drenched kitchen, learning a different kind of curriculum. My amazing hostess didn’t just offer bandages; she offered the earth. She showed me how to use local plants, poultices, and natural rhythms to mend my cracked kneecap and broken ego.
     As she worked, we talked—about art, the energy of the jungle, and the body’s incredible ability to repair itself if given the right tools. My knowledge of Spanish was still clumsy, but my understanding of the world was expanding rapidly. Healing wasn't just about a bone knitting back together; it was an awakening. Watching her balance the precision of an artist with the intuition of a healer, I realized that my "gap year" wasn't a delay at all. It was the first time I was truly learning how to live.

​A Whole New World Discovered
     By the time my kneecap had knit back together and I could finally walk the country roads of Costa Rica, I was no longer the same seventeen-year-old who had arrived with a degree but no direction. The accident that should have ruined my trip ended up defining 

The private pond next to the house.

​it. My host mother hadn't just healed a bone; she had introduced me to a language of natural recovery and artistic intuition that no university textbook could ever provide.
A Well of Knowledge
     I eventually left the jungle, but the lessons of the poultices, the patience, and the power of holistic healing stayed tucked away in my mind. 
     At the time, I thought it was simply a unique chapter of my youth—a colorful story of survival in a foreign land. I had no way of knowing that years later, life would circle back, presenting me with another challenge that required that exact same well of knowledge.​

     ​When that moment arrived, I wasn’t afraid. I simply reached back to that beautiful home in Costa Rica, remembering that sometimes the most unconventional paths are the ones that truly prepare us for what’s ahead.


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"Coiled Rattlesnake" - Ink and Watercolor

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Disclaimer:  I am not a licensed medical professional. The information shared here is based solely on my personal experience and should not be considered medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always consult with a qualified healthcare provider for any questions regarding your own health.
This blog is written in my own words and is my own personal opinion. All memories are written as I recall them and where possible, backed up with photos and/or verified by others who were present. I have purposefully kept details of persons involved, as factual as I recall, and vague where necessary as to not cause embarrassment or harm. For that reason, some names and locations may have been changed.  

"Coiled Rattlesnake" - Ink and Watercolor

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