Searching for Water (Part 3: The Road to Mahai)

Once I let go of the idea of building another festival space, I began searching for something entirely different.

What I knew most clearly was this:

We needed water.

I didn’t fully understand why at the time, but I felt it with absolute certainty.

After years of huge gatherings, schedules, logistics, production timelines, and constant movement, I found myself longing for the gentle rhythms of nature. Water felt connected to that longing somehow. Reflection. Breath. Slowing down. Space.

With so much pain and disillusionment in my community, the country, the world, I felt that being close to water would offer healing.

I started searching near my home in Virginia.

Then farther south.

North Carolina.

South Carolina.

Georgia.

Florida.

I looked at properties on rivers, lakes, coastlines, and marshes. I spent countless hours online searching listings and countless more hours driving to properties that never quite felt right.

Some places were beautiful but financially impossible.

Others were affordable but lacked the right soul.

Some felt commercial. Others felt isolated in a lonely kind of way.

I was searching for something I couldn’t fully explain yet. I only knew I would recognize it when I found it.

But after selling the farm and yoga studio my budget very specific. Again and again, I ran into the same reality: everything I imagined creating seemed financially out of reach.

Around that time, I spoke with my brother, Hargobind, who had already created a retreat center in Mexico.

I asked him what he thought about looking there.

He laughed a little before answering.

“Mexico is not for the weak of heart,” he told me. “It will require an enormous amount of your time, energy, and dedication. You're going to have to BE there.”

I think he meant it as a warning.

But honestly, I took it as a challenge.

A few days later, I boarded a plane to Mexico.