Medicine Woman, Song Keeper, Wild Heart Guide

I grew up in my grandmother’s wood plank house nestled in a small town in the mountains of Costa Rica. Mamá, my grandmother, kept the hearth bright while my grandfather, aunts, uncles, cousin, chickens and cicada’s filled trees filled every corner of our days. In the morning we tied back our hair and walked to the milpa to plant corn, pumpkin, peanuts and beans, the soil cool beneath our feet. When the coffee blossoms ripened into red berries the whole family, from toddlers to elders, slipped among the rows and filled our baskets with laughter as fast as beans.

Mamá was more than the heart of the home, she was a sobadora, a healer with hands that remembered what had been passed down long before she was born. Her touch came from a long line of curanderos and hueseros, bone setters and medicine people who worked with prayer, plants, and spirit. Her grandfather, and his grandfather before him, carried the knowledge of how to realign what had been lost, both in body and in soul. This is the current I was born into, not as something to own, but as something to listen to, to remember, and to serve with humility.

Some mornings the tap gave no water. So we followed the footpath to the quebrada with pots and clothing balanced on our hips. The stream became our sink, our bathtub for us tiny kids and our place to trade stories with neighbours while the cold current startled us awake.

On rainy days Mama and I searched the ground for birds that had fallen from the canopy. We carried them home and called on our  prayers of breath, smoke and gentle hands until wings remembered how to open and the birds once again started to breath.

“The meaning of life is to find your gift.  The purpose of life is to give it away.”  Picasso.

My grandfather carved my first maracas and taught me that sound is pure medicine when it is offered with love. At night my aunts braided my hair and slipped folktales between the strands. All the aunts and me, sleep together in one big room, all laughing at stories, and going to sleep. These rhythms showed me that healing belongs to the village, that rhythm feeds the spirit and that the land always answers a listening heart.

I carry those teachings into my work today. Ancestral medicine with Tobacco a plant allied, limpias, shared fire and divination meets the science of vibration I studied at Berklee College of Music. The drum and my voice are the tools that loosen grief and invite joy. Training in well being counselling to grounds the journey in care for the nervous system, and yoga together with other somatic practices opens steady space for the body to speak. My path continues through ongoing apprenticeship with my teacher a Mayan elder, learning the knowledge passed down from millennia to her, the prayer and wisdom.

For over 20 years these threads of healing have travelled with me to twenty four countries. I have welcomed dawn fire circles on Mediterranean cliffs, cacao nights and rainforest pilgrimages back home. Everywhere I meet the same quiet longing to feel rooted, free and fully alive, to heal the heart, from all the emotions that can feel to much. My craft is to weave rhythm, ritual and respect, until your own wisdom rises to meet you.

When we sit together the drum begins. Its steady beat loosens the stones in the riverbed of the heart. The voice follows, sometimes a lullaby, sometimes a jaguar roar, guiding you inward. We might share cacao, or be guided by the spirit of Tobacco a plant helper. Movement may ripple through your shoulders or stillness may unfold like wings. We close in council, gathering what you have found and shaping simple practices so the medicine walks with you into daily life.

Whether we meet in Cyprus, online or under the emerald canopy of Costa Rica, my promise is presence. There are no theatrics and no instant cure, only an open drum, an honest voice and a safe hearth where you can remember the wild rhythm you were born with.

If your heart thumps louder as you read, trust that pulse. Write to me and we will walk the next steps together.

Pura Vida.

With love and deep gratitude for your presence here, Carolina.

“Certain things catch your eye, but pursue only those that capture the heart.”  ― Ancient Indian Proverb