Bodhi Tree leveled serious accusations at beloved local sound healer Ceibo today, saying that their new AirTagging system shows “beyond any doubt” that nearly all of their guests who get “lost” on the way to the beach actually end up at Ceibo’s house in K-Section.
“It’s unbelievable,” said Bodhi’s AirTag Project Leader, Geiner Solano Duarte, gesturing up at the massive tracking dish atop the Oceana Shala. “All this time, we thought they were getting lost on the way to the beach. Now we are literally watching in real-time as the dots just stop moving – right at his house.”
When Nosara Lately arrived at Ceibo’s residence in K-Section today, we noticed a brand-new black Land Rover in the driveway, a full-time gardening staff, and several giraffes peeking curiously at us over the wall. The sound healing business was clearly treating Ceibo well. A small sign above the keypad said “Welcome Bodhi Tree guests. The code is 1234.”
We found Ceibo in his living room, surrounded by seven AirTagged Bodhi Tree guests, all settled in lotus position. Several were clearly no longer in this dimension. Others were weeping softly while clutching crystals.
Ceibo laughed softly when told of Bodhi Tree’s accusations, careful not to disturb his guests. “Everything happens for a reason,” he said, with his signature Deep-But-Soft, Voice-of-Ceibo calmness. “The universe provides in mysterious ways … and here, it is simply Bodhi Tree’s complete inability to give their guests directions to the beach.”
When pressed about whether he’s intentionally positioned his home along a common route for lost and wandering Bodhi Tree guests, Ceibo smiled enigmatically and said, “I don’t choose the lost souls. The lost souls choose me.”
Ceibo then rang a singing bowl, and our iPhone immediately pinged, registering $80 on our Black Del Mar Visa card for an “impromptu frequency consultation.”
Back at Bodhi Tree, spokesperson Roberto Desquela was having none of Ceibo’s “deep but soft voice bullshit.” Pushing back angrily, Desquela called Ceibo “The Jim Jones of K-Section.”
“Our guests go in as confused tourists. They come out as horizontal spiritual beings who can’t remember their room numbers, their credit card PINs, or Instagram passwords. It’s causing us real problems here at the front desk. One guy tried to settle his bill with a crystal he bought from Ceibo for $120.”
Sources tell Nosara Lately that behind closed doors, Bodhi Tree management is completely mesmerized by the unexpected range and power of the 12-foot AirTracker dish that now sits atop the Oceana Shala. One guest leaving Ceibo’s in a tuk-tuk was tracked all the way to Santa Marta, where Bodhi Tree security found her trying to trade her yoga mat and AirTag for three chickens and “a passage to a higher dimension.” Another guest, who Airtag staff refer to as “Stardust,” has been circling K-Section for three days, tracing out a sacred geometric pattern on the Bodhi AirTag monitor that closely resembles the fifteen-foot mandala on Ceibo’s living room floor.
“We’re gonna let him keep going a few more days,” said AirTag staff. “This evidence is gonna drop Ceibo. He’s toast.”
Ceibo laughed when he heard this. “Some people say I’m exploiting confused tourists,” he said, quietly tending a burning clump of sage, while meditatively bundling stacks of Costa Rican currency. “I say I’m providing a vital public service. These people were looking for a beach – and they found enlightenment instead. That’s called an upgrade. That’s called manifestation.”
He paused, then added, with a twinkle in his eye, “That’s also called a very successful business model.”
Soothed and elevated by Ceibo’s deep-but-soft-voice, we had to agree.
