Vale Do Capao

I remember sitting at the main restaurant and bar in a tiny town in Bahia, 11 hours west of Salvador by bus. I was, once again, travelling alone, unafraid but still cautious. The stars were showing off as usual, spangling the Brazilian sky. The tiny village let off so little light that the sky almost literally exploded into stardom. Their display was given a soundtrack by creatures of the forest who made more noise than any city street I had ever roamed. It was a spectacle of sights and sounds and I was enjoying it so much that I wanted to share it with someone. I wish I could use my cell-phone and call my mom, or Ray, or Raquel! I sighed. But then I noticed how this longing for those who weren’t with me took me out of the present moment, made my less excited by the stargazing, dampened the symphony to a noisome hum.

What stands out about my experience was changing my mind. I decided at that moment to share life with those who were around me. We didn’t have cell phones to protect us from the risky act of reaching out to others. I shared my delight with the stars with the man sitting next to me. In this small town, the simple but scary act of repeatedly choosing to “love the ones I was with” brought us together like constellations, making us relevant to one another in meaningful ways.

I don’t remember his name, the man I spoke with. I can’t pretend I am still in touch with the many people I met on my journeys. But I can say that I chose to care about them and invest in their well-being as I would my own brother. And that changed my life.