I Thought It Was My Dream—Until I Listened to My Heart

For more than seven years, I believed I was working toward one of my greatest dreams: creating a luxury holistic wellness retreat in Costa Rica.

I poured my time, energy, heart and money into making it happen. Each time circumstances brought the dream to a stop, I picked it back up, reimagined it and began again. I was certain that my determination meant it mattered deeply to me.

When the retreat ultimately did not happen, I was heartbroken. I kept asking myself the same questions:

Why didn’t it work?

Was the timing wrong? Was I being redirected? Was the universe protecting me from something I could not see?

I don’t like the word failure. Words carry energy, and “failure” feels so final—as though something went wrong, nothing good came from it and all the effort was wasted. That is not how I believe life works.

Still, some things do not work out, no matter how much love, planning and determination we pour into them. When that happens, it is natural to search for a reason.

I searched for mine in the timing, the circumstances and everything that had happened around me. But the answer was not outside of me. It was within me—and it was much more difficult to accept:

What I had believed was my heart’s desire was never truly my dream.

The Beginning of a Beautiful Idea

More than seven years ago, a friend told me she was planning to build a different kind of retreat center in Costa Rica.

I had already visited Costa Rica and absolutely loved it. The air. The jungle. The beaches. The water. The animals. The people. The energy. The laid-back way of life. There is something about that country that invites you to exhale more deeply, slow down and reconnect with yourself.

The idea was that her property could become a home for extraordinary holistic retreats. As a holistic health practitioner, I always have so much I want to share. I love helping people release what is weighing them down and watching them step into stronger, healthier and more authentic versions of themselves.

My partner at the time was equally enthusiastic about taking groups to this magical place and supporting them on their journeys.

A retreat sounded like a wonderful idea.

And because I am a planner, the planning began.

I gathered people, created an itinerary and worked through countless details. Everything seemed to be coming together.

Then 2020 arrived.

Travel stopped. People separated from one another. Uncertainty took over, and the world seemed to freeze.

That was stop number one.

Beginning Again

A few years later, travel began opening up. People started gathering again, and life slowly began moving forward.

By then, my relationship with my partner had ended, but my friend was continuing to build the retreat center. I traveled back to Costa Rica to see the progress and begin planning again.

Many of the original people involved had moved on and were no longer available, so I started over.

There was more planning, more searching and more gathering of beautiful souls who could help create the experience. I reimagined the itinerary to meet a world that had been changed by years of fear, uncertainty, loss and separation.

The retreat began taking shape again.

Then the unthinkable happened. My friend lost her husband to illness.

It was time to pause once more.

She experienced a devastating loss, and the future of the retreat center understandably became uncertain while everything was reorganized. But true to form, she persevered. The center not only survived; it became stronger and established an even more meaningful presence within its small Costa Rican community.

Eventually, I returned to see the changes and experience the new energy emerging there.

This time felt different.

There was no global shutdown. The retreat center was established. The footing seemed stable. I believed the timing was finally right.

Once again, I started over.

Bringing Kubuda to Life

This time, the retreat grew into a fully immersive, nurturing experience unlike anything I had planned before.

It included private air travel within Costa Rica, luxury accommodations, a dedicated private chef, nightly sound-healing meditations, a visit to a beautiful spa, a full day of excursions, daily inspirational teachings and plenty of time to rest, explore the surroundings and simply breathe.

I named it Kubuda, a Shona word meaning to emerge.

That was exactly what I wanted for the people who attended: an opportunity to step away from the demands of daily life, reconnect with themselves and emerge feeling renewed.

I spent countless hours bringing it to life. I worked late at night and through weekends. I planned every detail and invested a significant amount of my own money.

After more than seven years of stops, starts and reinvention, Kubuda was finally ready to be unveiled.

Friends and clients had been waiting for the announcement. So many people had expressed interest that I worried there would not be enough room. I was already thinking about when I could schedule a second retreat.

Then war and global uncertainty once again dominated the news.

People became hesitant to travel. One after another, those who had said they wanted to attend stepped back. People who had offered to help spread the word became quiet. Even those who had reassured me that the retreat would fill eventually decided not to go.

Only one dear soul committed. She saw the value in the experience and said yes.

I continued sending marketing campaigns week after week, hoping something would shift.

Nothing did.

The dream into which I had poured my heart, energy, time and money was slipping away. Eventually, I had to make the heartbreaking decision to cancel the retreat and refund the one person who had been ready to join me.

My heart sank.

After seven years, three separate attempts and more hours than I could count, it was over.

Or so I thought.

Searching for What Went Wrong

My new partner and I decided to travel to Costa Rica anyway. We explored three different areas of the country and had a magical time.

There was no schedule to manage, no group to care for and no pressure to make every detail perfect. We simply enjoyed the people, the places and the experiences. It was peaceful, restorative and priceless.

But the planner in me was still at work.

Everywhere we stayed, I quietly evaluated the property as a possible future retreat location. I looked at the rooms, food options, excursions, gathering areas, air conditioning and overall quality of the accommodations.

Was my friend’s retreat center too remote? Was it too expensive? Had I chosen the wrong location?

Each place was lovely for a couple enjoying a vacation, but none compared with my friend’s retreat center. Her property really was the best choice.

Now I knew that for certain.

So what had gone wrong?

Why had the retreat “failed”?

Around that time, I heard a saying:

At some point, you have to stop trying to turn a red light green.

Those words stayed with me.

Had I been pushing against the direction life was trying to take me? Was I being protected from an experience that was not meant for me? What was I supposed to learn from all of this?

At first, the only lesson I could see was that we can plan endlessly, work tirelessly and do everything we believe is right, yet still not control the outcome.

But in my heart, I knew there was something more.

Something about the experience did not feel completely honest.

So I went deeper.

I meditated. I prayed. I became quiet. I asked for answers.

And the same answer returned again and again, even though I did not want to hear it:

This was not my dream.

The Truth Beneath the Dream

The retreat had begun as my friend’s dream and my former partner’s dream.

I was the person who knew how to make it happen.

I was the planner.

When the original dreamers were no longer part of it in the same way, why did I continue?

Because I had said I would.

I felt an obligation to my friend. I had also developed a stubborn determination to prove that I could do it on my own.

And I certainly could have.

But being capable of doing something does not mean it is yours to do.

That was the truth I had been avoiding.

Please don’t misunderstand me. The thought of helping people through such a beautiful experience genuinely made my heart sing. I could see the potential for transformation. I wanted others to experience the healing energy of Costa Rica and return home feeling stronger, lighter and more connected to themselves.

I wanted the outcome.

But deep in my heart, I did not want to be the person responsible for making every part of it happen.

I love attending retreats, workshops and weekend seminars. I love learning, sharing and experiencing transformation alongside others. But planning and managing an elaborate international retreat was never truly my dream.

Even when it became clear that there were not enough participants, another friend—someone who has led retreats all over the world—tried to talk me out of continuing. She explained that it was no longer financially viable and that I could not afford to absorb such a significant loss.

I knew she was right.

Yet I was still determined to do what I had said I would do.

Her advice stayed with me, too.

Eventually, I listened.

Listening to the Heart

Was Kubuda a failure?

No.

It was a lesson—an expensive, time-consuming and sometimes heartbreaking lesson, but an important one.

It taught me that determination is valuable, but it must be paired with discernment. There is a difference between persevering through difficulties in pursuit of your dream and continuing to force something that no longer feels true to your heart.

Sometimes wisdom means knowing when to stop.

Sometimes strength means changing direction.

Sometimes the bravest thing we can do is admit that the dream we have been carrying does not belong to us anymore—or perhaps never did.

Science recognizes that communication between the heart and brain is not one-way. They are in a continuous, two-way relationship through neural, hormonal and physiological pathways, and signals from the cardiovascular system can influence brain activity, attention and emotional processing. The heart does not replace the brain as our literal decision-maker, but our bodies can hold and communicate information that our busy, determined minds may overlook. This is one reason practices that help us become quiet, present and internally aware can be so valuable. (HeartMath Institute; PubMed review of heart–brain regulation)

For seven years, my mind kept saying:

You committed to this.

You have already come too far.

You have spent too much to stop now.

You can still make it work.

My heart had been whispering something entirely different:

This is not your dream.

It took a long journey for me to become quiet enough to hear it.

But I hear it now.

A Question for Your Own Heart

Is there something in your life you keep trying to force into place?

Are you pursuing a dream because it is truly yours—or because someone else once handed it to you?

Are you staying on a particular path because it fills you with purpose, or because changing direction feels frightening?

Perhaps you have invested years of your life, a great deal of money or enormous emotional energy into something that no longer feels right. It is easy to believe that walking away would make all of that effort meaningless.

But the time you invested was not wasted if it brought you closer to the truth.

Changing direction does not erase what you learned. Letting go does not mean you were incapable. And choosing a different path does not make you a failure.

Sometimes the red light is not an obstacle for you to overcome.

Sometimes it is an invitation to stop long enough to notice where your heart is trying to lead you.

Life is short. None of us knows how much time we have, and this life is far too precious to spend living someone else’s dream—or remaining on a path simply because we are afraid to change course.

Live while you are alive.

Honor what is genuinely in your heart.

Trust that releasing what is not yours creates space for what is.

Kubuda did not become the retreat I imagined. But it gave me something I may have needed even more: the freedom to stop proving, stop forcing and begin listening to my own heart.

And that does not feel like failure at all.

With love and gratitude,

Karin