The first time I stood at the Temple of Ixchel, overlooking the ocean on Isla Mujeres, something incredible happened.

I wasn’t looking for a spiritual experience.

I wasn’t making a pilgrimage.

I wasn’t even particularly familiar with the story of Ixchel.

I had come during a wedding anniversary trip. My daughter was only one years old, and if I’m being honest, I was still finding my footing as a new mom...

My husband booked the trip to Isla Mujeres because he heard it was cool and thought I may enjoy it. That’s it.

I knew there was some ancient temple on the island and thought it might be cool to visit while we were there if we had some extra time, but I was CLUELESS as to the energetic reality of where I was visiting.

But as I stood there looking out at the water, I felt something I had never felt before. A slight tingle that started at the bottom of my feet and slowly vibrated up my body. Looking back now, it was clearly a prana surge.

But the only way I knew how to describe it then was peace.

Not happiness. Not excitement. Not relaxation from being on vacation. It felt deeper than that. It felt like every part of my body got quiet at the same time. My mind stopped racing. The constant mental checklist that seems to accompany motherhood disappeared. For a few moments, there was nothing to solve, nothing to manage, and nowhere else I needed to be.

As someone who has struggled with anxiety for most of my life, it felt unusual enough that I noticed it immediately.

I remember leaving and thinking, “What was that?”

In a few days, I’ll be heading back to Isla Mujeres with a group of moms for our annual Serene Moms retreat. I’ve been thinking a lot about the Temple of Ixchel lately, which always seems to happen this time of year.

What’s funny is that the first time I visited the temple, I had no idea what it really was.

When I got home, I started reading more about the history of the island and the temple itself. That’s when I learned about Ixchel, the Mayan goddess associated with motherhood, fertility, healing, and the moon. I learned that women had been making journeys to this island for centuries to honor her.

And honestly, I got chills.

Not because I suddenly believed I had uncovered some great mystery, but because it helped me understand why the experience had felt so significant. It felt like I had stumbled upon something sacred without even realizing it.

Then last year, I returned to the temple for the first Serene Moms retreat.

This time was different.

The first time I had visited as a curious traveler. The second time, I arrived carrying years of building Serene Moms, years of supporting mothers, years of my own growth, healing, and questions about what I was creating in the world.

And the feeling was even stronger.

One afternoon, another mom from the retreat and I sat on a rock overlooking the ocean near the temple. We sat there for a long time without saying much. We watched the water. We listened to the waves. We let the wind hit our faces.

And I remember having a thought that felt so clear it almost startled me.

For the first time in my life, I felt exactly where I was supposed to be.

Even writing that feels vulnerable because it sounds dramatic. But it’s true.

I’ve had plenty of wonderful moments in my life. I’ve had exciting moments, successful moments, joyful moments. But this felt different. It wasn’t excitement. It wasn’t achievement.

It was alignment.

For someone who spends a lot of time questioning herself, second-guessing decisions, wondering if she’s doing enough or building the right thing, that feeling was incredibly rare.

I wasn’t thinking about the future.

I wasn’t worried about money.

I wasn’t wondering what came next.

I wasn’t comparing myself to anyone else.

I was simply there.

And somehow that felt like enough.

I’ve thought about that moment many times over the past year.

When moms ask me why I keep bringing moms back to Isla Mujeres, the honest answer is that I don’t think it’s really about the destination.

The beaches are beautiful. The food is wonderful. The weather is incredible.

But what stays with me is the feeling.

The feeling of stepping away from everyday life long enough to hear yourself again.

The feeling of sitting beside other mothers and realizing you don’t have to carry everything alone.

The feeling of remembering that underneath the responsibilities, the schedules, the expectations, and the endless giving that motherhood requires, you are still a whole person.

Maybe that’s why women have been making the journey to this island for generations.

I don’t know exactly what those women were seeking when they traveled here centuries ago.

But I know what I found.

I found peace.

I found connection.

And perhaps most importantly, I found a version of myself that felt completely at home.

Every year since, the island has continued to call me back.