Yelapa: La Madre Selva (The Mother Jungle)

Tales from the spiritual wonderland.

Yelapa is the place of dreams. 

I don’t mean that metaphorically. In Yelapa, what you think comes true. And it happens rather quickly.

One day I was out for an afternoon walk. I was thinking, I’d love to have dinner with someone tonight. But who? I went through a mental checklist. There’s Will, maybe I can ask him. There’s Dani, ooh, that’d be fun! 

As I think this, I turn the corner and there’s Dani, walking toward me. We start talking. I even forgot about dinner. She asked about my plans for later, and then mentioned she’s meeting a few friends for dinner, would I like to join?

This is just one example. 

I’d asked folks why this is. Why does this place seem to facilitate such clear and immediate manifestation? 

First, let me give some context. Yelapa is a small fishing town on the Pacific coast of Mexico. It has no roads leading in. One guy apparently drove his RV here, and reported it was not a very fun ride. For the rest of us, we arrive by water taxi — a 45-minute ride along rocky, jungly coastline from Puerto Vallarta. And then, there she is — a few dozen homes and hotels nestled into a lush hillside, all tucked within a circular bay. Most tourists come on a day trip, yet are quickly forewarned — you may think you’re coming to Yelapa for a day, then all the sudden you’ve been here for a month. Maybe more. This is not uncommon.

Yelapa’s a fishing village, yet there are only two docks. So the boats bob in the bay, twinkling at night. The place only got electricity a mere 20 years ago; before that, it was all candle-lit. There’s one main pathway, “the spit,” that runs along the water and through the Puebla, which is the “downtown” area. Here, there are a few pretty good restaurants, two tiny grocery stores, a church, and a coffee shop with the finest cinnamon rolls in the land. 

[It’s a carousel - be sure to click through]

In the past, Yelapa was a haven for artists. Bob Dylan used to kick it here. He’d paint rocks, strum his guitar under a tree, and sketch portraits of travelers. Then people started recognizing him and he cut bait.

You still get artists these days, yet it’s mostly a spiritual draw. In Yelapa, you have your pick of the spiritual litter: kundalini activation, cacao ceremony, full moon ceremony, breathwork, temazcal, sound healing, energy healing, acupressure, or just good old fashioned yoga.

You also get your fair share of dedicated seasonal travelers. Come February, in flies everyone from rural Canada to Portland to Montreal and beyond. The same people come at the same time of year, every year. One woman, 89 years old, drives alone from Vancouver, Canada to Yelapa each winter, and has been doing so for over 30 years. And regardless of where you’re from or what political views you hold, everyone folds together seamlessly.

“Here, it’s not what you do, but who you are that matters,” said a fellow traveler.

“Even the clouds here are different.”

As for Yelapa’s magic, there are a few hypotheses.

One is that it sits on ley lines. Ley lines, for the unfamiliar, are where the magnetic currents of Earth intersect, creating a pocket of concentrated energy - a vortex of sorts. In these zones, people report feeling uplifted, positive, clear, inspired. Examples are Sedona, Arizona; Stonehenge, England; Mt. Shasta, California; and Trader Joe’s (just kidding). Ley lines aren’t scientifically proven — yet when you’re in these places, you feel it. As one woman put it, “there is an abundance of life force.”

And though one can’t confirm the ley lines scientifically, there are several auspicious elements that could explain such flow. For one, a river runs directly through the center of the town. Rivers are charged, sacred bodies that facilitate the flow of qi, or energy. That river pours into the ocean, creating another powerful source of flow. The ocean is within a bay, which circulates air from the sea beyond, which further cleanses and replenishes the area. 

On top of that, the land itself is said to be charged. It was inhabited by indigenous tribes for many years and they’d hold sacred ceremonies on the land. Folks believe these groups were attracted to this particular place given the charge and effect they felt from the area.

Maybe that’s why, in Yelapa, there are no mundane moments — odd, given there really isn’t much to “do.” There are about 1,500 people there (given the time of year), maybe a hundred of whom speak English; and yet every day I’d somehow meet a new person that offered life-changing advice. In Yelapa, I never felt like life was passing me by, a feeling that’d be all-too-common when I’m back in Brooklyn. If I was ever feeling low or blurry, I’d go for a walk and see who I bumped into. Or I’d jump into the ocean, which instantly energized me. 

In many ways, Yelapa feels like a living, breathing organism. Sentient, with intentions. She draws you if she wants you and rejects you if she doesn’t. And she is remarkably clear with her wishes; whereas more passive-aggressive places could send mixed signals for years, Yelapa does not dilly-dally.

I have two examples to illustrate. 

It was 8am on my final morning there, and I was not at all prepared to leave. Things were left unsaid, certain stories unfinished. The water taxi was picking me up in an hour though to take me to the airport. I was in a tizzy. I am not one to make drastic last second switches, like cancelling a flight the morning of just because I want to stay longer, but I was feeling serious resistance to leaving. But I couldn’t pull the trigger. So I walked to the common area of my guesthouse to see if anyone was there, praying they could give advice. Nobody. I texted my mom to see if she’s available; she wasn’t. I pulled Animal Cards, a tarot of sorts, which yielded no clear answer. Time was ticking. I grabbed a random book off the shelf, asked my question in my mind, then firmly planted my finger on a random page, which landed directly on, “go.” So, I went back into my room and packed my bag. 

I was wheeling my bag out of the room when I decided to check my phone. An email from the airline came in. “Important notice about your flight,” it said. I figured it was something about wearing a mask on the plane, etc. But no! I opened the email to see those fateful words:

Your flight has been cancelled due to operational failures. 

WHEW! 

I spent three more days in Yelapa after that, which were perfect in every way. And when I left, the trip was absolutely complete. 

Three months later, I decided to come back to Yelapa to escape Brooklyn’s winter. I was due to fly out on a Saturday. Yet that entire week before, something happened which had me in a deep, restless paranoia. I was in another world of anxiety, and I knew I did not want to bring that energy on my trip. Friday morning came and I was still a mess. Then, later that afternoon, an email comes in: Your flight has been rescheduled to Sunday instead. And that’s not all: That night, the situation miraculously resolved itself. I was free to leave with a clear, empty mind. 

In any case, Yelapa gives you what you need and takes what you don’t. She can be quite forceful about it. But it’s always done in a nurturing spirit. And when you’re ready, she makes it known that it’s time for you to leave — off to complete the next part of your journey elsewhere. In that way, she’s very much like a mother. You come home when you are weary and fatigued, when you’re without direction, when you’re needing love, guidance, and reassurance. Mothers aren’t always gentle, but they are always generous and supportive. They give you what you need to pick yourself up and go make something of yourself. And as you walk out the door, you stand a little taller. 

When you visit Yelapa, you think you’re coming to relax; but that’s not the case. Whether you know it or not, you’re coming to be transformed.