LoveHer Retreat: Discovering Rest, Scarcity, and Abundance in Costa Rica
At the beginning of December, I embarked on a journey to Costa Rica for the LoveHer Retreat, a yoga and wellness experience designed to reconnect us with rest, the Earth, and ourselves. I arrived seeking reprieve from the relentless demands of life, hoping to tap into something deeper. What I found was a profound revelation: overconsumption equals scarcity, while abundance lies in cultivation.
The retreat was beautifully structured around the four elements: earth, water, fire, and air. Each day, we explored our connection to these elements through guided yoga, meditation, and communal rituals. I felt a profound sense of grounding as my feet touched the soil, as though the Earth itself was embracing me. Feeding monkeys, listening to birdsong that felt like a live rendition of my iPhone alarm, and witnessing the lush vibrancy of the jungle, I felt an unshakable sense of being alive. The natural beauty around me seemed endless—an abundance of life, sound, and movement. Nature’s abundance was unmistakable, but so was its fragility.
As I soaked in the richness of this experience, a sadness began to creep in. From the retreat’s tranquil grounds, I could see the scars of overdevelopment: towering glass houses built by expats atop hills where they didn’t belong. These structures were not just an aesthetic affront; they disrupted the ecosystem. Native plants were uprooted, animals displaced, and the land’s original stewards sidelined. The juxtaposition was stark: on one side, the harmony of the retreat—a space created to honor and respect the Earth—and on the other, the discordant, extractive energy of overconsumption.
This dissonance mirrored the political and social landscapes of the United States. In the face of sociopolitical turmoil, many people have vowed to leave the country in search of a better life elsewhere. But as I reflected on the expat communities in Costa Rica, I wondered: Are we carrying the sicknesses of our homeland into the new lands we inhabit? Are we transplanting the very systems of scarcity and extraction we claim to escape, poisoning the soil anew? This question lingered heavily in my heart.
The retreat didn’t just challenge my perception of external overconsumption—it also made me turn inward. As a businesswoman, I’ve often found myself chasing dollars, focusing on the next bill, the next project, the next milestone. The pressure to stay afloat, to keep the lights on, can feel relentless. But in this constant hustle, was I over-consuming my own energy, my own creativity? Was I depleting the soil of my imagination instead of cultivating the ideas and dreams that truly nourish me?
Through yoga, journaling, and moments of quiet reflection, I came to understand that abundance isn’t about acquisition—it’s about cultivation. On the final day of the retreat, I engaged in the final rituals of the retreat around giving my fellow retreat mates their flowers by celebrating the beauty I saw within them. I also wrote a letter to myself, to be read in 2025 on the exact date I wrote it, promising myself the ways in which I would take care of myself better and nourish my talents because, as our retreat host Raquel reminded us, "the way we take care of the Earth is a reflection of the way we care for ourselves." I wrote in my journal, "I AM EARTH; EARTH IS ME."
Leaving Costa Rica, I carried the weight of both inspiration and responsibility. The retreat gave me more than rest; it gave me clarity. I realized that abundance isn’t something we take—it’s something we nurture. And as I returned home, I committed to being a better steward of my energy, my work, and the world around me.
