The Past, the Brew and the Battle

There are a few things you learn quickly after landing in Costa Rica. One, geckos run the place and you are just a renter. Two, if you hear a mysterious rustling behind you, it is either a lizard, a coconut or your past coming back to bite you. And three, nothing tests your character quite like trying to live in the moment while carrying a hot cup of Costa Rican coffee you would defend with your life.

Everybody talks about letting go of the past as if it is a gentle, spiritual unfolding. Something peaceful, like a yoga pose done by a woman named Sage on a beach at sunset. But nobody warns you that letting go of the past feels a lot more like juggling angry monkeys while trying not to spill your morning brew.

The past has a way of sneaking up on you in Costa Rica. Maybe it is the heat that loosens the screws in your mind. Maybe the humidity unpacks old memories you thought were sealed in a mental Tupperware. Or maybe the universe figures you are finally relaxed enough that it is safe to drop that memory of your Grade 9 haircut you prayed would stay buried forever.

Whatever the reason, your past will show up. And it usually knocks while you are holding a cup of coffee so good it could make a grown man weep.

Costa Rican coffee is not just a beverage. It is a commitment. It demands respect. You do not chug it on the run or sip it distracted. You savour it. You honour it. You cradle it like a newborn child who somehow smells like chocolate and roasted heaven. And this brings us to the challenge. How do you let go of everything behind you without dropping what you value right now?

Picture me standing by the pool in the morning. Birds are arguing in the palm trees. One of my dogs is making a heroic attempt to befriend a lizard who clearly wishes to be left alone. My cup of coffee is steaming in my hand. And suddenly, a thought from years back slithers into my mind. Something I regret. Something that embarrasses me. Something that makes me wonder why I was ever allowed out in public.

My reaction is instant. I tighten my grip on the mug. My shoulders tense. I whisper a word (in French) I will not repeat in a wholesome blog post. And I nearly spill the coffee.

It is wild how easily the past tries to yank us backwards. Something small can trigger it. A smell. A song. A text from someone who has not contacted you since the Harper administration before this Trump administration. And next thing you know, you are drowning in old mistakes while clinging to your cup like it is the last lifeboat on the Titanic.

But here is what Costa Rica has taught me. The past is not a villain. It is more like an old neighbour who keeps popping over uninvited. Sometimes it brings helpful lessons. Sometimes it brings drama. Sometimes it steals your mangoes. You do not have to hate it. You just do not need to give it your best seat.

If you live here long enough, you start to understand the art of the gentle brush off. People here do it with skill. Someone knocks. You say later. Someone calls. You say after coffee. The past shows up. You smile politely and say not today amigo.

You do not slam the door. You simply do not invite it in while you are enjoying something better.

This is where the magic begins. When you stop wrestling with the past and start treating it like an overenthusiastic tourist who means well but needs to leave you alone, life gets lighter. You stop trying to fix everything you ever did wrong. You stop replaying scenes that never improve no matter how many reruns you give them. Instead, you focus on what is in your hands. And that is usually your coffee.

Because let’s be honest. We try to fix the past the same way someone tries to chase a wasp away from their drink. Lots of swatting. Lots of panicking. And somehow the drink still ends up spilled. But if you take a breath, give the wasp a moment, and shift your cup just a little, the problem tends to sort itself out.

Letting go is not dropping the mug. Letting go is loosening your grip just enough that your knuckles are not turning presidential-debate white. Letting go is saying I remember but I am not going back. Letting go is trusting that what you carry today is worth more than what you lost yesterday.

And here is the fun part. When you finally stop wrestling with your past, you start noticing things you could not see before. The way the light lands on the water. The way your coffee tastes even richer when you are not worrying about old nonsense. The way the stray dog on your street walks with more confidence than most CEOs because he is not thinking about 2007.

Every day here, I learn to release a little more. A grudge. An old fear. A memory that has outstayed its welcome. But I keep my cup steady, because some things are meant to be held close.

And the ending feels a bit ironic. You spend all this time trying not to spill your coffee while wrestling your past, only to discover the real trick at the end. Life will spill some of your coffee anyway. Even in paradise. A surprise gust of wind. A clumsy step. A gecko with poor timing.

But you will realize something in that moment. You did not come to Costa Rica to protect a cup. You came here to taste it.

And that is the punch. Letting go is not about saving the coffee. It is about finally drinking it while it is still warm.