I set out on a work trade opportunity — and the universe responded louder than I could have ever imagined.

This journey was my first true step outside the borders of the United States. I had once left in my early 20s for a week in Saint Martin, the kind of all-inclusive resort escape where your feet touch sand, but not necessarily the world. After that, I barely traveled outside of New England. I settled into a comfortable lifestyle as a dental hygienist and devoted wife. A routine that looked perfect on paper, yet as the years went by, something deep within me began to whisper that there was more. Intuition was pulling me in another direction as my lifestyle started to feel more and more misaligned with my values. The long hours inside a building led to feeling disconnected, burnt out and longing for a life of meaning. Whenever I saw photos of the golden temples of Asia or the vibrant rhythms of Latin America, my soul begged to be let free, to explore. I dreamed of living a slower, simpler lifestyle, one untethered to the digital world, prioritizing inner peace, balance and autonomy. I craved connection with others from cultures across the globe.

Yoga became my anchor during my divorce. It invited me to get out of my mind and into my body. A sanctuary where thoughts could flow, where I could feel it all and release it all without shame or judgment. It offered a gentle, supportive community, one I had unknowingly been seeking. I began to see the real benefits of yoga once I was introduced to the philosophy, the living poetry of the sutras. The way it intrigued self-reflection, challenged false narratives and prompted strength and softness at once. I was so captivated that, even with the turbulence of my personal life, I enrolled in a 200-hour yoga teacher training (YTT). Everyone told me it would be life-changing. They were right but I never expected what came only three months after graduating YTT.

When a yoga retreat I was to attend at a co-living eco-lodge in the jungle of Costa Rica was cancelled last minute, I had feelings of frustration and defeat. I had been looking forward to disconnecting, mentally resetting and being a student in practice. But, with my work schedule already cleared for the month of July, I changed gears and quickly found a work exchange opportunity to teach yoga in Guatemala.

When I finally stepped into it that world, I found myself surrounded by others who were doing exactly as I had dreamed of. Drifting from hostel to hostel, country to country, weaving their lives through new cultures and connections. Many of them were women, young and courageous, traveling alone yet never truly alone. Their presence was the quiet affirmation I didn’t know I needed. I did it. I saw it. I lived it. And I fell in love with it. The warmth and acceptance I felt from my volunteer roommates, the hostel staff and the locals was overwhelming and genuine. My days were simpler, and I felt more grounded and present than ever. Each morning, I’d slowly wander down the colorful cobblestone streets of Flores to the hostel that held such a vibrant community. My days began with the simple joy of breakfast, endless cups of coffee, the aroma mingling with the tropical air. Then I’d gather my students, and together we’d take a small boat across Lake Petén, gliding toward a jungle sanctuary accessible only by water. There, surrounded by green canopies and the hum of life, I’d guide yoga classes overlooking the quiet lake. Even in the early morning humidity, the world felt alive and forgiving, and the warm water felt refreshing and cleansing.

The rest of the day unfolded at my leisure. I explored, shared stories with travelers or simply sat still enough to feel the buzz of the island. In the evenings, part of my role was to help guests settle into the hostel. I listened to the symphony of languages, laughter and connection. It struck me how universal our desires are. We are all seekers, craving adventure, truth, connection and belonging. Yearning to be seen, to be heard, to be understood. To know we are not alone on this journey.

Before Guatemala, I had only taught a handful of classes back home, each one filled with nerves and self-doubt. But here, something shifted. “There’s no room for panic, Lydia,” I told myself. “Just teach. It’s just yoga.” And that’s the beauty of it, it is just yoga. It’s not about perfection or performance; it’s about presence. I realized I was tangled in expectations I had imagined — both my own and those I assumed others held. I was assuming students held certain expectations of me and of my class. I was also recognizing how real imposter syndrome is as a new teacher, speaking to concepts and scripts that I’m still learning to integrate into my own life. The Four Agreements became a type of guidance: make no assumptions, hold no expectations, stay true to your word and always do your best. Slowly, my voice softened into authenticity. My timing improved, my confidence increased. Throwing myself into a new environment to teach was exactly the right amount of pressure I needed. I found my purpose in creating a space for others to slow down and reconnect with themselves and the earth beneath them. I was glowing with gratitude and pride. 

Then, as if scripted by the stars, I met someone. He was magnetic, with stories of traveling the world by sailboat, of trading goods and moments instead of money. We connected effortlessly, speaking the same language of dreams and simplicity. It felt like love, the kind that awakens something ancient within you. But one evening, he said softly, “I’m afraid you’re compromising by coming to live on the sailboat with me instead of following your dream of teaching yoga.” His words pierced through me. They reminded me of an old pattern — the quiet abandonment of self in the name of love. 

Still, I followed him. The experience was breathtaking. Each day, I turned my face to the sky and took in my surroundings, my new reality. I was living on the Rio Dulce River, surrounded by jungle, sky and the rhythm of water. But in that stillness, the universe spoke again. The same whisper returned, and it spoke the most painful truth: this is not your path forever. I realized the lesson was never about the relationship; it was about returning to myself. The universe had given me everything I had asked for, wrapped in a slightly messy, authentically beautiful human package.

The releasing of that love was painful, but it carried me back to my truth. I am the only one responsible for my joy, my peace, my purpose. It is time to trust myself, to live in alignment with what feels true, to stop dimming my light for comfort or companionship.

Looking back now, I marvel at the many lives I’ve lived in just a few short months. What I gained couldn’t be measured in currency. It was a reminder that life can be lived differently, that home can be something you carry inside you, and that freedom often begins with trust.

Now, in just a few short weeks, I’ll be on my next adventure teaching yoga in the Carribean. A new wave of excitement fills me as I anticipate all the wonderful things to come. Now I know just how beautiful life can be. All you have to do is make one decision, take the next step and accept what unfolds. Abandon not the self that knows; let your choices be the echo of your inner truth.

Lydia Laliberte
Traveling Yoga Teacher + Writer
@lyd_laliberte | lydialaliberte.substack.com