My sister just got an Apple Watch. She can’t wear it.
She feels the electromagnetic field pulsing against her skin. What if she’s not oversensitive, but accurately sensing what we’ve learned to ignore? We’re swimming in EMF — WiFi, cell towers, devices humming at frequencies that aren’t ours. We’ve plugged ourselves into modernity like batteries in the Matrix.
Always on. Always buzzing.
In Fiji, there is no “on.”
My first morning back at Tavola, birds woke me at dawn — a chattering welcome party in the canopy. I lay there with the strangest sensation. As if tendrils from the jungle were tenderly wrapping around my ankles. Reclaiming me.
In Fiji, there’s no separation between inside and outside. Even “indoors,” louvered screens keep you woven into the green. And the jungle? It’s the Ferrari of nature. I swear if you sat still long enough, you’d watch it grow.
But something deeper happens when you stop resisting.
Your rhythm becomes natural. You rise with birdsong. You say goodnight to the sun. No light pollution. No sound pollution. Just an internal song — one you forgot, or perhaps have never quite heard, but your body is longing to sing.
Guests feel it too. Lauren, an artist, told me: “The peaceful environment left me feeling rejuvenated and creatively recharged.” Marco said it was “the real Fiji experience” — remote, safe, and alive in a way that’s hard to explain until you’re there. Until you’ve felt the warm rain on your skin and its endearing affection.
I’m writing this from Denver, missing my soul’s home. And that ache reminds me: we all need a place where we feel like we belong. Truly need it. It’s essential to who we are.
The strange thing about Fiji? It’s an accelerator. You feel like you’ve slowed down, and you have. But once you’re rooted and centered, everything speeds up for you. Opportunities arrive. Clarity sharpens. Creativity flows. Without you having to DO so much.
It’s not productivity. It’s reverie — that liminal space where answers surface because you’ve finally stopped demanding them. Where the next chapter writes itself while you’re watching the tide.
A bit like that Ferrari — all that power, but effortless once you’re in the right gear.
Here in Colorado, we take hikes. We cycle through vast spaces. But those are activities in nature.
Fiji is different.
It’s a breathing jungle, pulsating with life and wisdom, that wraps around you — not welcoming you so much, but recognizing you. A beloved, finally returned.
Rather like mystic and poet John O’Donohue’s passages on the invisible embrace of beauty: “The beauty of the earth is the first beauty. Millions of years before us the earth lived in wild elegance.”
I experience this every time I arrive in Fiji. The land remembers something we’ve forgotten.
This Valentine’s Day, I’m thinking about the love we forget to name: the intimacy of nature. The relationship that was there before any other. The one that’s been waiting. The one that’s been whispering.
May she embrace you and love you all over again. x