"Because There Is No Love" and Why I Started this Blog

I boarded my 2pm Latin America Airlines flight from LAX to Pucallpa, Peru.

I half stumbled into my Coach seat, tripping over my carryon bag that didn't quite fit under the chair in front of me.

I could see the look in the woman's eyes sitting in the window seat next to me. She was skeptical of what the next 9 hours in the air would be like with this clumsy 20-something year old.

I eased into my seat and buckled my seatbelt without fumble or hesitation - hopefully gaining a few trust points back with my new neighbor.

"Fit the big end into the small end. Pull strap to tighten," I said aloud. My neighbor smiled.

She was an older Peruvian woman in her 60s, but could have passed for mid-50s with her fashionable dress and well kept appearance. She had short dark hair, deep red lipstick, and her dimples framed her tired but elegant smile.

I introduced myself and gave her my patented airplane handshake that I like to think communicates "Nice to meet you. I'm a person, you're a person, and as long as you keep to your space and we don't fight over the armrest, we'll have a great flight!"

She introduced herself in a soft voice with a slight Spanish accent. We will call her "Jane".

Jane and I ended up chatting for quite a bit before the plane took off. We kept chatting once we were in the sky too.

We both seemed to approach conversation with an "...And if I'm chatting too much, I can just shut up and leave you alone" type attitude, but neither of us ever opted for that out.

I found out quickly that Jane was a kindred spirit. Once we made it up in our minds that the other person was as kind a soul as they seemed to be, we let our walls down and began to connect like old friends.

Jane asked me why I was going to Peru.

Boldly and honestly, I told her "I'm going for an Ayahuasca retreat on my first week, and then sightseeing for the following two weeks".

Although ayahuasca is only recently growing in popularity in the United States, I guessed a Peruvian native like Jane would have known about the psychedelic medicine that shamans have been using in the jungle for thousands of years to help people with a range of physical, pschological, and spiritual ailments -- more on this in future posts.

"Ooooooohhhh... you're going to the jungle for it?!!", Jane responded with the intrigue of someone who just received some juicy gossip.

"Yes." I responded. "I want to get some clarity on my next career move, and if it's not too tall of an order, I'd like to know what my life's purpose is". Jane had never drank Ayahuasca before, but admired my pursuit.

Our discussion evolved and we found that we both share a similar admiration for life. We both enjoy feeling and experiencing it with every ounce of our being, so as not to leave this life with any regrets.

While on this topic, Jane's bright smile, that I thought could shine forever, suddenly turned very sad and she began to cry.

Jane told me that she had been diagnosed with terminal cancer in her lymph nodes and was told she only had a few months left to live.

She told me she doesn't regret anything in her life. She modeled for several years traveling all over the world, made many friends, was crowned Miss Peru, and won several other beauty contests in the 90s. She also told me about her traumatic childhood, living with depression, and surviving an alcoholic ex-husband.

It was obvious to see that this woman was pouring her heart out to me, and I realized in that moment what is possible when you take the time to connect with someone.

In the few hours that we chatted, Jane shared everything with me. All her best stories and all her best advice. She did this because Jane knew that tomorrow isn't promised, and she didn't want to miss an opportunity to share her lifetime of knowledge with someone who was willing to listen.

Jane had been treated for cancer several times before, but it kept returning and because her latest diagnosis was terminal, she said she didn't want to spend her remaining days tethered to a hospital bed, and instead would rather live them out on her terms.

She also told me that the night before our flight was the saddest night of her life.

She said she had to decide between staying in Los Angeles where her insurance covers the best medicine to treat her symptoms, or going back to her home in Peru where the medicine isn't even half as good.

"But I've chose to go back home, because there is no love here", Jane said sullenly.

"I go to the grocery store and I hear the way parents speak to their kids -- and I'm shocked. People in the street barely say 'hi' to you, if they even lift their eyes from their phones. People have so much here in the States, but they always want more."

I knew all too well what Jane was talking about. And while I try to challenge the status quo of today's societal norms, I knew Jane couldn't take it anymore -- enough where she would leave better medical treatment in the U.S. for a better quality of life in Peru.

It was the saddest and most beautiful thing I had ever heard and I began crying too.

In between tears, I once glanced around the plane and got the sense that nobody around us was connecting on such an intimate level and many of them likely didn't make it past the initial handshake.

While we cried in each others arms, one supporting the other, people around us stared quizzically in our direction, but no one seemed to care. Except for the person sitting behind us, who likely overheard some of our conversation and gave me a heartfelt look of approval after Jane had excused herself to the bathroom.

We chatted some more about Jane's home in Arequipa, my move to California, and Jane's travel advice for my time in Peru. We spent the second half of the 9 hour flight mostly watching movies on the backs of the chairs, and enjoying each other's company before we landed. We stayed together all the way to baggage claim in Lima where we parted ways with one last big hug.

I told Jane that I don't like making promises that I can't keep, but her story inspired me and I told her that spreading more love is something that I've been working on lately and I promise to start doing it in bigger ways.

This blog is part of that promise.

I had tentative plans to launch something soon after my return from Peru, but Jane's story inspired me to stop delaying and do it now.

And although it often seems like we are living in a very charged social/political climate, and the average stranger at the grocery store might not be the kindest person you've ever come into contact with, I hope that this story, and this blog, will help to educate, inspire, and hopefully create a little more love in this world.