Yesterday morning, I awoke at 6:00 a.m., eager to write down sketchy memories of a strange dream. I was back in Utah. There were three of us standing in a large open field: me, my sister’s husband, and my former spouse. The dream involved a series of small airplanes crashing down from the sky. Each plane seemed to dive from directly above, appearing to be heading right for us—only to veer off at the last millisecond before smashing cockpit-first into the ground about fifteen or twenty feet away. One by one, a series of five or six of these small planes crashed down all around us, forming a makeshift circle of wreckage.
I remember sensing fear at first, then relief each time the planes missed. When the seeming destruction came to a halt, the three of us abandoned the scene and climbed into the front bench seat of my brother-in-laws full-size van. I remember feeling a little bit puzzled as to why everyone around who had witnessed the event was simply going on as if nothing had happened—no sirens, no emergency vehicles, not even a gathering crowd of gawking bystanders.
As I tried to close the passenger door of the van, the latch was stuck and would not catch. My brother-in-law quickly reached over and resolved the issue, following which I leaned toward my ex-wife and said firmly, “I don’t want to go back (referring to Cozumel), but I know I’m supposed to be there, and I am going.”
At this point in the crazy dream, I woke up with a start, wondering “What the heck was that all about?”
No obvious interpretation has filtered into my awareness—in fact I have not yet given it much thought. My day yesterday was very full, and I am just now looking back to ponder.
After waking up from that odd dream, I was in a bizarre mood, feeling off, stressed, and even stagnant. Knowing I had planned to go to the plaza and write, my heart was rebelling, saying “No, I don’t want to … I want to do something else … I don’t feel like writing … In fact I’m just plain F-ing tired of writing.”
Another part of me was pondering a few “shoulds and musts.” One of the first things I did last week was to purchase a local cell phone. My heart was very clear that a phone was needed to continue building relationships with several of my new friends. I longed to reconnect with Eduardo (from the Temazcal), to pick his brain and his heart, to learn more about his spiritual path. I had also received a tip from a lady named Cecilia. “I think I know your Rafael.” she said. “He participates, or at least used to participate, in meditation and healing groups on the island. He is a massage therapist working at …”
“I feel silly just calling Eduardo out of the blue.” I argued against my heart. “He probably doesn’t really want to talk to me. Besides, I don’t even know exactly what I am searching for—I just know I am supposed to search. How dumb I am going to feel if I simply waltz into his life asking for his time.”
My inner battle continued with, “I don’t want to call the spa where this new Rafael works either. He probably is not ‘my Rafael’ anyway. I just don’t see the Rafael I know as being a massage therapist … but who knows? He sounds like a spiritual sort of guy though, and I really would love a good massage … I have to check it out.”
For the better part of three hours, I tied myself into emotional knots with this mental ego-based tug of war while sitting at my kitchen table playing nonsensical and repetitive brain-dead computer games. With every mindless click of my lifeless mouse, my energy drained lower as I too became gradually more lifeless. Moodiness and resistance were depleting all of my energy; I was caught in a downward spiral with no desire to fight my way out of the abyss. My heart wanted to contact both Eduardo and this new Rafael—but self-doubt caused me to do neither.
Finally, at 11:30 a.m., while feeling disgusted with myself, I forced my fingers to click the hibernate button on my laptop. Fifteen minutes later my bicycle was parked in front of the spa while feelings of hesitation still fought for a louder voice.
“Just do it already!” my soul cried out. Finally, I opened the front door of the spa and walked up to a desk behind which sat a pleasant looking thirty-something Latino man.
“Do you have a massage therapist named Rafael that works here?” I began.
“I am Rafael,” he replied.
Checking in with my feelings, I was soon scheduling an appointment for the next day (today) at noon. Even though this young man was indeed not ‘my Rafael’, I felt a very positive energy in his presence, and knew a massage accompanied by some spiritual discussion would do me good.
My mood was lifting—I was slipping more into the flow of my heart.
Minutes later, I rode my bicycle to the main town plaza with intentions to resume my writing—but the moment I sat on my familiar shady bench, an internal feeling strongly prodded me.
“Get over your fear already … Call Eduardo now! Just make an appointment for one of his Bach Flower therapy sessions and let the rest take care of itself.”
The fear and resistance I was feeling were reminiscent of crippling times in my past when I struggled to find the courage to act. As a present day observer, I was puzzled why such fear could still hold me hostage.
“No more” I declared, immediately picking up my phone. Five second later, I had punched in the numbers and pressed the send button. The phone was ringing and there was no going back. A female voice answered.
“Is Eduardo at home?” I queried. Following a short pause, I heard his familiar voice on the other end of the line.
“I would like to schedule an appointment for one of your ‘Bach Flower’ sessions,” I began. Eduardo sounded very happy to hear from me, and I soon had an appointment for 1:00 p.m.—leaving me with barely forty-five minutes to gulp down some lunch and ride a few miles on my bicycle.
Amazingly, my depressed mood rapidly shifted to a feeling of energetic aliveness. Having stopped resisting my inner feelings, I knew I was back on track with my heart.
To be quite frank, I had absolutely no idea what to expect with “Bach Flower Therapy.” A short two minute search on the internet made it sound a little “woo-woo.” My left brain was trying to convince me how stupid the whole idea was, but my confident internal voices were logically countering with two distinct positives regarding my participation: (1) I would have the opportunity to spiritually connect with Eduardo at a deeper level, and (2) Even if the therapy doesn’t resonate with my soul, the Bach Flower stuff would be another great cultural exploration in and of itself.
“Be careful with my favorite plant.” Eduardo gently cautioned me as I prepared to park my bicycle in his yard. Reaching out and touching a few of the tiny delicate leaves, he demonstrated how even the slightest touch caused the leaves to contract and close up. The plant was actually quite amazing—as if it had feelings, muscles, and a nervous system.
Soon, we were ascending an external staircase on the left side of Eduardo’s home. As we reached the roof, I was amazed by the peaceful serenity that I felt in his beautiful therapy space. A traditional thatched roof provided cool shade above a small open twelve-foot-square patio area. In the center of the space was a small concrete bed/platform, covered by a thin straw mat. In one corner near the mat was a permanent built-in wooden bench where Eduardo could sit. A couple of sturdy log railings surrounded the enclosure, providing protection, a small amount of privacy, and a touch of ambience. While I could still catch glimpses of the street below, plants and cloth hangings provided considerable privacy and isolation.
We briefly reminisced about our Temazcal experience together before Eduardo began to describe Bach Flower therapy and how he would be proceeding. He explained a little of the theory and research behind the unique healing properties of flowers. Then, he showed me how he would be connecting with my energy—using a technique similar to muscle testing—to ask my own body what it needed. Based on my body’s answers, he would prepare a personalized mixture containing flower extracts that my body needs and wants.
To the outside observer, this might seem as hocus-pocus woo-woo as my experience with the Brujo (witch doctor) last week. I could plainly see that in the hands of an inexperienced practitioner, or someone lacking a deep spiritual connection of their own, this therapy most likely would be a complete waste of time and effort.
However, my encounter yesterday was night and day different from that of last week. From the very beginning of my session with Eduardo, I sensed a deep spiritual connection with everything he was saying and doing. Surrendering my trust completely to the process, I was feeling excited to discover yet another way of experiencing the divine. My inner voices were loudly proclaiming “Immerse yourself in this experience … allow yourself to trust and believe.”
For the first forty-five minutes we remained mostly quiet and meditative. I did immerse myself in the experience, while Eduardo focused on silently connecting with my energy, listening to my body’s answers. Here and there, Eduardo would utter a few comments, describing his perceptions. Several times, tears formed in the corner of my eyes while he spoke. I could feel the truth in his words as they resonated with my heart.
Somehow, Eduardo picked up on the stress I had been feeling earlier, but rightfully attributed such feelings to the fact that I am going through a complete metamorphosis of existence—tearing down an old identity of rigid structured thinking in order to find my deeper self—to experience a more profound truth. Every word that Eduardo spoke vibrated with the harmony of a familiar melodic song in my heart.
As Eduardo explained the flower extracts that my body had chosen, he himself seemed quite moved by the experience. Much of what he shared resonated at a sacred level in my internal being. For a short while, our souls were clearly communicating at a level beyond words. At one point he even made a comment “I could probably learn a great deal from you, Brenda … You could be my teacher.”
I lovingly reminded him of his own words at the Temazcal when he said “We are all students … there is much we can learn from each other.”
As our session drew near to the end, Eduardo presented me with my personalized mixture of flower extracts—and coached me with instructions on how to utilize it. Throughout the first three days, I was to place three drops under my tongue during every waking hour. Subsequently, I would reduce the frequency to only to six times per day. As my bottle nears the empty state, in about three weeks, I am to return for a course adjustment—a sort of fine tuning—at which time I will be given enough bottles to last for a few months (which is the usual duration of treatment).
As strange as this may sound, my soul was singing as I joyously embraced the treatment plan. Feeling I had nothing to lose, and recognizing the amazing power of beliefs, I flipped an internal “doubt” switch to the “believe” position, thinking “Why not?”
Before standing up, I mentioned in passing, “I would love to engage in discussion with you sometime, to learn more about your beliefs and spiritual traditions.” I explained how deeply drawn I feel toward learning more, and again mentioned how everything he taught at the Temazcal resonated harmoniously with my own beliefs about God and the Universe.
He asked me to describe a little of my own beliefs, and queried about the path I follow.
“I joyously embrace a path based on a book called ‘Un Curso En Milagres’ (A Course In Miracles)” I said with a glow in my eyes. “The things you teach are almost identical.”
He surprised me with “I have heard of that. I know a deeply spiritual woman in Playa Del Carmen who practices these teachings. She sometimes leads a support group in Tulum. You must meet her before you leave. I will help introduce you.”
Minutes later, Eduardo passionately launched into a story about a different woman named Regina who was born in Mexico, to a Mexican mother and a German father. In the 1940’s, while still a baby, Regina’s parents took her to Tibet, where she was raised by Tibetan monks—and was very close to the Dali Lama. The spiritual leaders in Tibet recognized that their era of awakening would soon be ending, and they saw great destiny in Regina as they foretold her future impact in beginning the awakening process in the west.
As Eduardo continued with the story, his eyes told a story of deep spiritual belief and conviction—and I felt goose bumps all over my body. In great detail, Eduardo passionately filled me in on the Chinese invasion, how the local prime minister had subsequently rescued Regina and hidden her in the mountains of India. Later she was captured, put into a Chinese prison for ‘retraining’. After a few years of learning Chinese language and culture (and connecting with a spiritual church-bell-ringer who continued her teaching), Regina was released.
As a young adult, she felt a deep internal calling to return to Mexico—but knew she must follow spiritual traditions of entering the country from the East. Rather than taking the easier route across the Pacific, she traveled south, around India and Africa, landing on the East Coast of Mexico.
At this point, Eduardo paused his story and explained the spiritual importance of entering from the East, and asking the spirits for permission and blessings. A wave of energy surged through my body as I realized I had essentially entered Mexico on a spiritual quest, and I had felt inexplicably drawn to do so at the Eastern-most point in the country.
Eduardo, responding to his own internal promptings, suggested: “Brenda, you should go to the eastern shore of Cozumel, build a small fire before sunrise, burn some ‘copal’ in the fire, and have your own ceremony—requesting spiritual guidance and permission to enter. When you do this, many new opportunities will open up to you.”
Left brain logic says “How silly” – but my soul was alive with energy as Eduardo spoke those words. I asked him about ‘copal’, and he explained that it is the same herb that we burned at the Temazcal—the sweet smelling root that gave off so much smoke when placed on hot coals.
“It is very hard to find on Cozumel,” he said, “I will give you some.” Then he dug into the bottom of a bucket and using his hands, Eduardo scooped a small portion into a plastic bag.
Feeling deeply honored by Eduardo’s gift, a profound sense of wonder filled my consciousness as I began to visualize my upcoming ceremony—a ceremony that I knew to be in my future. Already, I could feel myself pedaling my bicycle across the island in the darkness at 4:30 in the morning, eager to build a small fire on the beach before the rising sun. I could see myself meditating in front of the fire, placing my precious copal in the hot coals, and speaking to the spirits.
Quickly returning to his story, Eduardo filled me in on how Regina had intuitively known to climb to the top of a specific pyramid, where she met the leaders from the four native cultures in Mexico who, having been equally inspired to come, were there waiting for her. How I wish my memory was better. Two cultures were the Mayans and the Mechicas (or Aztecs). Names of the other two escape me—one of those being the spiritual culture to which Eduardo belongs.
In great detail, Eduardo filled me in on the spiritual adventures of Regina, and how she was instrumental in events that he describes as initiating the worldwide spiritual awakening prior to her martyrdom in Mexico City on October 2nd, 1968.
“Many people believe Regina is a myth, that she never existed.” Eduardo explained. But the conviction and excitement with which Eduardo shared his story tells me he believes the story with all of his heart and soul. The familiar resonant energy surging up my spine let me know that I will indeed be exploring these ideas in much greater depth.
Throughout our magical discussion, Eduardo and I both repeatedly approached the point of joyful tears. Many times his cheeks were wet—as were mine.
Finally, Eduardo said “I need to let you go soon … my children are expecting me downstairs. Normally, this is supposed to take thirty minutes, but I never do it in less than an hour.”
Glancing at my watch, I smiled as I noticed that three hours had already come and gone. In deep gratitude, I again profoundly thanked Eduardo for taking the time to share his spiritual stories with me.
“Brenda, it has been so powerful to connect with you,” he confided, “I feel as if I have known you my whole life.” Then, as he began to say “I’ll see you in three weeks,” he stopped and corrected himself. “I know we will talk again before that.”
For thirty additional minutes, we continued to visit—like two school children who were having so much fun playing that they would not come in from recess.
Finally, after three and a half long hours had passed, we exchanged email addresses, phone numbers, and huge bear hugs. As I slowly pedaled through the narrow streets, my heart was glowing, alive and overflowing with an abundance of love and gratitude.
A deep sense of knowing filtered into my awareness. “It really doesn’t matter if I ever find Rafael or his Medicine Man. Meeting Rafael so very long ago was merely a preliminary experience—to spiritually open my mind, and to stimulate my curiosity and imagination. Those experiences continue to fuel my internal passion today, without which I may never have returned to Cozumel—without which I might never have found Eduardo.”
I totally recognize that Eduardo is just a man—a beautiful husband and father to his precious wife and children. Yet something about him sends a lightning bolt of energy into my heart—not in a romantic way, but in a spiritual way. My discussions with him seem to energize a hidden purpose in my soul, an unknown path leading into my future.
In many ways, Eduardo reminds me so much of Rafael, and equally matches my mental image of the Medicine Man that I have envisioned for these many months. Bubbly excitement flows through my veins as I ponder the possibilities of just where my next few steps may guide me. One thing is for certain. I will take each step one at a time, enjoying the magical qualities of each moment, as I gradually remove the wrapping paper of my future.
Relaxing Massage
Today, just a few short hours ago, I had a beautiful massage from my new friend Rafael. As I lay on his incredibly relaxing table, I followed my promptings to simply enjoy the experience. Somehow, I knew that there was no need for conversation—that this Rafael is not directly connected to my path.
After returning to the reception area, as I handed him my payment, Rafael asked me again “Who did you say recommended you?”
I briefly summarized the whole story, and then asked him if he knew of any meditation groups in the area. Rafael’s wife, who was standing nearby listening, handed me a card for a Buddhist meditation group here in Cozumel.
“I might actually check that out,” I thought to myself. While I indeed believed this statement to be true, a little bird on my shoulder let me know that my primary path will be guiding me elsewhere.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved
Beautiful!