As I begin my writing today, the bright warm sun is already more than halfway across the partly cloudy skies above the plaza. My morning has already been quite busy as I begin to explore new possibilities and experiences.
As you may recall, ever since my first visit to Cozumel in 2007, I have sensed a strong internal “cosmic tractor beam” guiding me to return to this beautiful island. I cannot seem to shake the memory of my final conversation with my friend Rafael as he fervently spoke those words “Brenda, you have to come back and meet my medicine man.” Even though over twenty months have since come and gone—the emotional memories of that evening remain as clear and vivid as if they actually happened only yesterday.
For the logical mind, it might appear as if my quest were hopeless. After having sent numerous emails to Rafael, he has answered only one—and that was over fourteen months ago. In that single response, Rafael completely ignored my questions about the Medicine Man, and instead just wrote a few superficial words like “It was good to hear from you … Please tell me about your life and how you are doing.”
My time here in Cozumel is already half spent, and as of yet I have made very little overt effort to locate either Rafael or his Medicine Man. Yes, I once stopped briefly at the resort hotel where Rafael used to work, and I did ask my friend Arturo for help and advice—but that is the entire story. At least that is the external story.
Throughout these past twenty months I have maintained a strong internal sense of knowing that “Someday, I will indeed get to know this Medicine Man … but not now … I need to be patient … I need to trust … and I will be guided only when the time is right.”
I continue to meditate often on the issue. Each time I immerse myself in the silence, I continue to peacefully feel the thoughts, “Just be patient … the time is not yet … don’t rush things … just trust, and things will unfold perfectly.’
For over two months now, my ego voices have been screaming, “Brenda, if you are going to find the Medicine Man, you have got to get started now! You have to hurry! You have to take action! You need to be doing something before it is too late! You’ll never find him if you don’t look.”
Each time these ego voices try to get a foothold, I spiritually center myself and return to the peaceful knowing of, “Patience … trust … everything will happen exactly as it needs to … I need do nothing except remain centered … responding to my inner promptings as they happen.”
In many ways, my current situation reminds me of the patience and trust that peacefully surrounded my life after being laid off in October of 2007 right up until the day I signed the final papers on my home sale less than a year ago. Throughout that entire period of seeming financial uncertainty, I remained calm, peaceful and trusting. What a powerful faith-building experience that was. If you desire to refresh your memory, you can re-read my “Amazing Freedom” post from August 9, 2009. In that post, I discussed the powerful series of spiritual synchronicities that gradually unfolded one peaceful and trusting moment at a time.
My future story with Rafael and the Medicine Man is as yet totally unwritten, but yes, a deep sense of peace and trust continues to fill my very being.
Arturo is a casual friend who works for the property management company that cares for my rental house. From the first day when he picked me up at the airport, I have sensed a bond with him. When things have needed repairing at my home, he comes and fixes them for me, and he has faithfully (well almost) taken me to and from the airport during my two flights home to Utah. Prior to returning home for my mother’s funeral, I felt prompted to ask Arturo if he knew anything about a Mayan Shaman. He didn’t know anything, but told me he would ask a friend who might know.
As Arturo transported me to the airport prior to my second flight home for my son’s wedding, I again breached the subject. In response, he told me “I have a friend who works with a place where they build hot fires and use water to make lots of hot steam—they have ceremonies there—Please remind me when you come back, and I will ask my friend for information.”
From everything Arturo described, it sounded as if his friend worked with some type of Mayan sweat lodge. “This sounds very promising,” I told myself, “This feels like much more than a coincidence.”
I smiled inside when Arturo was not at the airport to pick me up last Wednesday. “This is no coincidence either,” I told myself, “The universe is playing another game with me … I’m supposed to be more patient.”
Salsa or no Salsa
Yesterday was Sunday, usually a lazy day when I like to rest before visiting the plaza for the evening festivities. I have become very attached to my weekly people watching visits, listening to the band in the Gazebo, and letting go of my inhibitions as I often perform my own version of a dance that remotely resembles the Salsa.
As lunch time rolled around, a peaceful little feeling inside told me “Brenda, you’re not going to relax this afternoon … you’re going for another bike ride.”
“OK, I responded, as I packed a few items into my backpack. Still remembering my previous experience of riding in the hot sun on a full stomach, I skipped lunch and munched down a few candy bars and a granola bar for some quick energy. Shortly after 1:00 p.m., at the start of the afternoon heat, I found myself following the silent voices that were calling to me from the east.
“I guess I’m going to explore the area surrounding San Gervasio,” I acknowledged to myself. Mind you, this was not a conscious logical decision—instead, I was responding to a strong internal feeling that was setting up residence in my heart. Thoughts of an exhausting ride out in the hot blistering sun were not exactly at the top of my personal wish list.
An hour later, with the sun bearing down on my sweat drenched body, I pedaled my bicycle into the same parking lot where I first ventured in late June—marking the entrance to the main Mayan ruins on the island of Cozumel.
My feelings were quite clear, “I am here … but I’m not stopping here—I have other places to explore.” Five minutes later, after turning around, I began paying very detailed attention to my inner guidance. Soon I ventured off onto a lonely dirt road. The whole six kilometer ride up from the cross-island highway is riddled with such tiny roads. Every few hundred yards, similar tiny dirt roads split off at right angles to the main road. These small roads appear to be very infrequently traveled, quite narrow, and most look as if they only run for a few hundred yards before disappearing into the jungle.
For some reason, these remote side roads had never before called to me. I remember thinking several times about how easily it would be to get lost in there—but today my feelings were different. As I left San Gervasio a strong intuition guided me to follow the very first road that split off heading in an easterly direction. Shortly after leaving the safety and familiarity of that main road, I passed by an old open-air bus-like transport vehicle. Painted boldly on the side of the vehicle were advertisements for jungle hiking tours at a place I had never heard of—a place called Villa Maya.
As I pedaled by the half-truck-half-bus transport, I etched a firm mental note in my brain, “Hmmm, I’ll have to check that out sometime very soon.”
While rough and rocky, the dirt road was well marked and quite passable for jeeps and mountain bikes. After about thirty minutes of bumping and bouncing, I was very grateful that my bicycle frame has a few weak shock absorbers—and that my tires are fat, knobby, and heavy. My hind end was also extremely thankful for a softer, bouncier seat cushion.
Recent tire tracks continued to spawn the hope that this increasingly-bumpier road might actually lead somewhere—and a sense of eager anticipation and curiosity filled my soul. “I wonder where this road might go … perhaps it might actually take me to my goal of reaching the north end.” I pondered.
After what must have been four of five kilometers I was surprised to see a small sign that read “Villa Maya, 1.5 Kilometers.”
With the enthusiasm of a small child—completely ignoring the heat and my increasing muscle exhaustion—I picked up my speed and pedaled on. A new goal had taken over my journey. I was now determined to check out “just what is this Villa Maya?”
After ten minutes of additional bouncing, I passed another encouraging sign, “Villa Maya, 1.0 Kilometers.”
As I rode through this remote section of the pristine jungle, I began to take notice that the jungle vegetation was growing greener, thicker, and taller. Some of the beautiful trees rose to over forty or fifty feet in height—considerably taller than what I had seen in previous jungle adventures.
Soon, another twinge of curiosity and anticipation giggled their way through my soul as I came up to an intersection with a sign clearly indicating that Villa Maya was 600 meters up the jeep road to my left. Scanning the jungle around me, I took the time to mentally memorize every detail about my surroundings. My left brain circuits are not totally gone, and I cautiously recognized that even with just a few direction changes, losing my way in such a lush and unfamiliar jungle was a real possibility.
This final third of a mile was unmistakably the most difficult of all. Not only was the trail considerably rougher, but it was rising and falling up and down over small ten-foot rolling hills. My body was crying out for a break, but I continued to push on with the calm realization that “I am almost there.”
As I finally dismounted my bicycle, I found myself standing in front of a large sign displaying general information about Villa Maya. There in front of me was a map detailing the layout of 85 acres of jungle trails, including the location of several remote buildings.
As I read further, I learned that Villa Maya is a privately owned eco-tourist and research foundation. One particular photo on the sign seemed to capture my attention—it showed a round ancient-looking building which I later learned was called a Temazcal. “I want to know more about that building,” I thought to myself.
Noticing a small gate in front of me, just beyond the sign, I deduced that this must be the main entrance. I further assumed that the place where I was currently standing by my bicycle was probably a small parking area, perhaps large enough for a handful of jeeps or similar vehicles. Other than the recent tire tracks that I had seen in the road, there was no visible sign of any current activity. The entire facility appeared to be completely abandoned.
“Since this place is deserted,” I pondered, “I wonder if it would be OK for me to briefly look around.” Soon, I found myself slowly pushing my bicycle through the small open gate. I was secretly hoping to run into someone so I could ask more questions.
Perhaps fifty yards inside, I came across a very well maintained area with a modern fire-pit and concrete picnic tables. Finding a shady spot at one of the picnic tables, I began to envision myself sitting in this exact same location with my handy little laptop perched in front of me. Something about this place felt very familiar and incredibly peaceful. The ambient energy seemed to radiate an ancient spirit, surrounding me with a calm feeling of pure serenity.
For a few brief minutes I strolled around the immediate vicinity. I soon recognized I was on a well-marked nature trail, with signs clearly identifying the trees and shrubs. Surprise flowed through me as I read one simple sign. There directly in front of me was a gum tree—used for making chewing gum. Just learning this simple little fact heightened my curiosity. “I wonder what else I could learn if I had time to hang out here on a more extended basis.”
Alas, I realized that I was on private property and had better not overstay my welcome. Wishing I could remain in these beautiful surroundings all day, I glanced at my watch and realized that I ought to be leaving soon if I were to have any hope of making it to the plaza for the Salsa dancing later that evening.
Late yesterday afternoon, as I finally pushed my trusty bicycle through the private gate of my own home, exhaustion and hunger were occupying the majority of my conscious thoughts. After the obligatory shower and long follow-up nap, I forced myself off my mattress to get some much needed food.
After dinner, my aching muscles seemed to be loudly proclaiming “You’re not going to the plaza tonight. There is NO WAY that you are going to be jumping around doing the Salsa.”
Instead, I found myself browsing the internet. “I wonder if I can find a web site for Villa Maya.” I pondered. After a few false hits of finding various beach resorts called Villa Maya, I finally hit the jackpot. The website was www.villamayacozumel.com. There on my very own computer screen, powered by the magic of technology, was everything I ever wanted to know about Villa Maya.
Just minutes later, I realized that the “Temazcal” that had so intently captured my intention was a type of traditional Mayan sweat lodge—a place where fire and heat, combined with water to make steam, was used to perform Mayan healing rituals. A surge of energy ran up my spine as I connected the dots and imagined the possibilities.
“Did the universe just guide me to my first clue?” I smiled as I asked myself. “Is this why Arturo was not at the airport? Was it because I needed to find this place on my own?” A strong feeling of peace in my heart was confirming to me that the answer to all three questions was a giggly and peaceful “Yes.” I had unexpectedly found this place on my own, simply by trusting and following feelings.
This morning I sensed a strong urge to begin doing a little more footwork. “Now is the time to start taking a few proactive steps.” I told myself.
I don’t know what the universe has in store for me, or when it will happen, but a strong inner pull caused me to sit at my laptop and compose three detailed emails.
My first email was sent to the main contact email address at Villa Maya, expressing my desire to participate in the experience of Temazcal and letting them know of my quest to find a Mayan Medicine Man—asking if they can give me any advice.
My next email was to Rafael. For the first time ever, I actually wrote to him in Spanish rather than English. Still realizing that I might never receive a response, I poured out the details of my heart and intention to Rafael, sincerely requesting that he please respond and help me in locating and/or contacting the Medicine Man.
My final email was to my friend Arturo, reminding him of our previous conversation, again asking for his assistance.
While I have no idea what, if anything, will come of any of this—I do have a firm sense of inner peace that I have followed my promptings perfectly—and that the next step is up to my spiritual guides. I love the excitement of being able to trust so completely, blindly following promptings and not being attached in any way to the final outcomes.
After hitting the “send button” on all three emails, I then responded to another intuitive feeling. A small museum sits prominently on the waterfront here in Cozumel, merely eight blocks from my home. Prior to today, I had never sensed a desire to set foot inside that building.
This morning, after paying my $3 admission, I was filled with fascination as I explored for almost three hours. Among other things, I learned a great deal about the island itself, the Mayan history, and the Spanish conquests in the early 1500’s. But mostly, I learned that I really don’t know much of anything at all. As I left the museum doors early this afternoon, I was overwhelmed by the realization that when it comes to Cozumel and Mayan history, I have barely scratched the surface.
What is for certain is that my heart was touched very deeply by the events of the past two days. I honestly have no clue as to what might happen next—but I am overcome with a sense of child-like wonder as I ponder the possibilities. There is so much joy in the simplicity of not knowing and in the excitement of anticipation.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved