Joyful birds squawk excitedly overhead, periodically calling from trees all around me. A small cluster of pigeons scour the familiar large concrete slabs in front of me. A local police officer walks by and begins to sprinkle bread crumbs. Soon, seven of the colorful pigeons are excitedly feasting—rapidly bobbing their little heads as they chow down on their unexpected treat.
And the ever faithful Iguanas and leaping lizards—well they are nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the chilly early morning breeze has them snugly sequestered in their warm dens, waiting for the radiating warmth of a much anticipated afternoon sun.
As I continue writing, The landmark historic clock tower strikes nine bells—bells that seem to ring quietly and peaceful when compared to the loud clanging bells in Valladolid’s Candelaria church. As I glance around, I notice that my favorite Royal Poinciana trees continue to grace the surrounding landscape, but something is missing—these beautiful fern-leafed trees have lost every one of their elegant orange-red flowers.
Cool temperatures beg me to catch some energizing rays. As I leave the protective shade of the bench below my favorite shade tree, the welcome morning sun quickly warms my skin—filling my soul with a passion to write—a passion to express the feelings in my heart. But the bright sun also makes it difficult to read the words on my computer screen.
Feeling a call to move yet again, I find myself on a bench inside the gazebo. The freshly painted toenails of my bare feet stand between me and a gorgeous view of the beautiful Caribbean waters just fifty yards away. The salty and sticky sea breeze feels so refreshing. The turquoise blue waters ripple gently against the rocky Cozumel shoreline, tempting me, begging me to make yet another return visit into the depths of their alluring energies.
A blue and yellow ferry boat departs from the ferry terminal and chugs away across the waters, leaving a large rolling wake in its path. Moments later, as I glance toward the faintly-visible shoreline of Playa Del Carmen, a huge Carnival Cruise ship appears from behind the ferry terminal and sails majestically across the horizon from right to left. A small tugboat hugs the giant ship’s port side, guiding it across the delicate reefs below. Minutes later, the ship has disappeared from view as it carefully maneuvers toward the docks just a few miles south of here. I can only imagine that this majestic cruise liner must carry thousands of excited tourists toward a fun-filled daytime stopover here in paradise.
As I stare out at the dancing waters, my sweet 75-year-old friend Miguel sneaks up behind me and taps me on the shoulder. On Tuesday I had stopped by to say “Hi” at the Mega Store where he works. I had a slight suspicion that Miguel might just happen to walk through the plaza looking for me—knowing full well that he normally takes a bus all the way to work.
Strangely enough, I struggle to find words when communicating with him. My Spanish vocabulary seems suddenly limited. Once-familiar vocabulary seems to be locked away in an irretrievable vault. For twenty minutes, the conversation feels awkward, almost forced. After exchanging warm hugs, Miguel resumes his trek to work. I wonder when, or if, I will see him again. My logical left brain is still puzzled by our friendship, while my right brain is totally at peace, knowing that everything happens for a reason—even if I do not yet recognize that reason.
The center of the plaza, the spot where hundreds of locals and tourists dance the salsa every weekend, has a new addition. A large outdoor stage has been erected just opposite the gazebo. Painted on the towering backdrop above the stage, just below a colorful party mask, are the words “Carnaval Cozumel 2010”. Much of the town square is dotted with portable tents, constructed with metal and PVC pipe frames. In just two days, these shady and rainproof temporary structures will be crowded with vendors selling their wares at Cozumel’s annual Carnaval celebration.
Nostalgia runs through my veins as I literally inhale my surroundings—the people, the vegetation, the Caribbean Sea, the sounds, the smells, and the amazing invisible energy. My heart is alive. It feels so incredibly good to be writing again right here in Cozumel’s main town square—right here where my Mexico journey began.
Tick Tales
My final days in Valladolid were accompanied by abundant emotion—experiences filled with love, joy, and even sadness.
Early Saturday afternoon (Feb 6), I was sequestered away in my room while thoroughly enjoying a Marathon showing of the first eight episodes of “Lost – Season five”. To my puzzlement, the cable suddenly went out. As I quickly scampered downstairs to check the reception on the shared TV in the common area, I bumped into my friend Anetteka—a new friend from British Columbia, Canada—a friend with whom I have had many deep conversations over the past couple of weeks.
Upon discovering that the television downstairs was now working—and after a brief conversation with Annetteka—I ran back upstairs to my room and watched perhaps ten more minutes of the current episode. Suddenly, the television went blank again, showing nothing but an empty and solid blue screen. A quick scan with the remote control revealed that other channels were still functioning, but the channel showing “Lost” reruns was completely missing.
Laughing inside, I realized that the Universe must be trying to tell me something. Surrendering to internal feelings of curiosity, I casually walked back downstairs to see what was up. Seconds later, Annetteka walked in again and we resumed our previous conversation. Almost immediately, Annetteka reached her arm behind and up under the back of her blouse to scratch something that she felt on her skin.
“Oh no, what is that?” she exclaimed with surprise as she removed her hand and quickly lifted the back part of her blouse, asking me to look for her.
“It looks like some kind of fat squishy tick.” I replied as my stomach began to tie itself into a small knot of queasy memories.
A part of me was grossed out by the sight—while another part of me was deeply interested and intrigued by the bizarre synchronistic connection. Here I am, just two days prior to my leaving Valladolid—a place where I spent almost three growth-filled months recovering from the physical side effects of having a tick removed. Now, right here in front of me, one of my friends has a fat round tick sucking the blood out of her back. The even stranger part is that Annetteka had not been on any recent strolls through the jungle, nor had she been hanging out among the plants in the Hostel.
“Brenda, do you want to remove the tick for me?” Annetteka asked?
Part of me wanted to face my fears and say yes. I knew that the process would be as simple as carefully placing my fingernails under the tick’s head and yanking it out.
But fear caused me to emotionally wiggle and squirm. Before I even had a chance to think, the first words out of my mouth were “No, I’m not sure if I can do it.”
As I began to talk myself into facing my fears and changing my mind, Tania entered the conversation and volunteered that she would remove the tick herself. A sense of relief flooded through my body. At the same time, a feeling of regret kicked me in the butt, telling me that I should have faced my fears and done it myself.
The process was all over so quickly and easily. After putting on a pair of clear plastic food-handler’s gloves, Tania reached up, surrounded the tick with her fingernails—and poof, it was gone. Using a pair of tweezers, Tania removed a couple of slivers (tick snout) left behind—and the process was complete.
I was quite proud of myself for actually watching, but I still wished I had faced my fears more completely. I know I could have easily done the same thing that Tania did. She made it look so simple. Next time, if there is a next time, I will indeed face my inhibitions and plow right through those fears.
After the situation was fully resolved, I returned to my room yet again, delighted to discover that my episode of “Lost” had resumed. Interestingly enough, the cable remained one-hundred percent reliable for the remainder of my time in Valladolid.
Could it be that the Universe set this whole situation up—kind of a déjà vu, giving me one final opportunity to look within before moving on to my next journey?
Oh, That Non-Story
I love my therapist friend Paul. When it comes to helping others, he has so much insight and wisdom. One day, a few years ago, I casually approached Paul to proudly tell him how I had faced my fears and shared my life story with yet another new acquaintance.
“Oh, that non-story.” Was Paul’s immediate and yawn-filled reply.
“Brenda, I keep forgetting you have a past—and it is such a non-issue.” He reassured me.
I knew he was right. But in those past and less confident times, every time I prepared to divulge my hidden secrets, I always cringed with hesitation and fearful anticipation.
Prior to coming to Mexico last June, I had grown quite comfortable in sharing my story—even occasionally sharing it with complete strangers. But something about being in a foreign country around an entirely new group of people had caused me to freeze up, to return to mild fear and paranoia about what might happen if I shared my story with the wrong person. Then, after conquering those fears in Cozumel, the same fears had partially resumed in Valladolid.
In my final week at Valladolid, I must have casually shared my story with at least six additional people. Each and every experience turned out to be spiritually enriching and fulfilling. I am so thrilled that being my true and genuine self has once again returned to the state of being a “non-story.”
An Emotional Goodbye
Sunday night, I had every intention of retiring early in preparation for my travels. I am so grateful that I listened to my little Jedi voices that told me otherwise.
I had just returned from the center of town, having eaten a filling dinner of rice, scrambled eggs, and fruit. As I walked back into the Hostel reception area, Tania immediately engaged me in conversation.
“Brenda Maria, have you eaten dinner yet?”
Tania likes to add the name “Maria” to all of her friends—her own personal form of endearment which we have frequently used with each other.
“I’m ordering tacos, and I want to buy you some dinner on your last night here.” She continued.
After telling her that I had indeed already eaten, I felt prompted to add, “But I could always eat another taco or two. I would be honored to enjoy some dinner with you.”
Our 8:00 p.m. dinner turned into a beautiful almost-midnight visit. By 10:00 p.m., my emotions were beginning to be very raw as Tania queried me about my feelings and continued fears regarding my awkward relationship with my dear sweet children back home. At one point in our intimate conversation, I was secretly wishing for the opportunity to return to my room and let the tearful floodgates open at full force.
But soon, the conversation shifted to Tania’s family and my emotions settled. The clock read almost midnight when I walked back to my room. In the course of that evening of heartfelt communication and genuine soul-sharing, my friendship with Tania seemed to enter a whole new level of genuine depth.
As I checked out of the Hostel on Monday at noon, my heart was deeply torn.
A sense of eager anticipation pushed me forward, confidently reassuring me that I have many incredible bicycle journeys ahead of me, gently reminding me that I have only just begun my spiritual journey and that the time has come to move on.
However, the fact is that I am also leaving a portion of my heart behind in Valladolid, just as I did with Cozumel. In only three short months I have grown to love the Hostel Candelaria and my dear friends Tania and Ewout. I will also miss all of my colorful international friends that have passed through the Hostel, several of which have become my Facebook friends. And then of course there is Dr. Gomez. Even though I have only visited with him on a professional basis, my friendship with him is deeply cherished.
After exchanging heartfelt hugs with Tania and Annetteka, I turned to Ewout, who was working in the garden by the Hostel entrance.
“Brenda, just as I told you at Christmas and New Years,” Ewout began as he gave me a hearty embrace and kiss on the cheek, “it has been a great experience having you here. I am grateful for having had the opportunity to get to know you.”
At the end of hugs and goodbyes, Ewout helped me lift my heavy backpack onto my shoulders. Next, I lifted my smaller daypack and put it on in a backwards position such that it was suspended from my front. Tania looked at me and giggled, wondering how I could possibly ride my bicycle like that—yet that is exactly what I did. Skillfully hopping onto the left pedal and swinging my right foot over the seat, I was soon slowly pedaling away toward the bus station.
As much as I wanted to, I did not look back.
Time Travel Tricks
While living in Valladolid, Cozumel literally felt as if it were half way around the world. The thought of returning to Cozumel to seek out medical care, or to visit friends, seemed like a great time-consuming journey across great distances, even continents.
Amazingly enough, only three hours after boarding my bus in Valladolid, I was standing on the pier at the ferry terminal in Playa Del Carmen, staring out at the distant Cozumel skyline just barely visible through the light afternoon haze.
My friend JayDee had graciously offered to let me use her airbed and her spare bedroom—an offer that I could not refuse. As I stepped into her living room early Monday evening, I felt as if I had entered a strange time warp. Even though I had left Valladolid only five hours earlier, my experiences in Valladolid seemed as if they had occurred years ago, and I literally felt as if only days had passed since leaving Cozumel last November.
As I experience more and more glimpses of in-the-moment living, such feelings of time warps seem to be increasingly the norm.
Spiritual Feast
By the end of Monday evening I had compiled a long list of tasks to perform and people to see: Do my taxes, locate so-and-so items in my stored suitcases, replace prescriptions, visit Eduardo, Rafael, Michiko, Miguel—and the list goes on.
With only five days to spend in Cozumel, I knew there was no time to waste—but at the same time I was blessed with a deep sense of peaceful presence, knowing that I can easily accomplish my goals while remaining present in each moment. As a result, Tuesday afternoon and evening evolved into a delightful spiritual feast.
I had first intended to spend a few hours reminiscing in the plaza, but as soon as my seat hit the park bench, I felt an internal call to feel the ocean breezes brushing against my cheeks. Minutes later, I was zooming southbound with my hair blowing in the wind as I revisited the emotions of a once-cherished afternoon bicycle excursion along the shoreline. But I had another place to be at 3:00 p.m.—and nothing would stop me from participating in that reunion.
As I dismounted my bicycle in front of Eduardo’s gate, a sense of energetic anticipation engulfed my whole being.
“Eduardo, are you there?” I called out across the gate, knowing full well that he was expecting me.
A deep heartfelt hug confirmed that our friendship had not skipped a beat. Soon, I was lying on Eduardo’s treatment table while he performed a full energy analysis of my body.
“Brenda, you are still facing small minor issues with flexibility, and with inner confidence.” Eduardo began. “But your foot is remarkably clear. Normally, after such an invasive wound I would feel a jolt or spark of energy—but the energy of your foot is perfect.”
As our all-too-short visit wound down to a close, I was shocked to learn that nearly two hours had passed. How I have missed these revitalizing energy sessions with Eduardo.
“Brenda, when you leave here, I want you to go straight to the ocean and jump in, clothes and all.” Eduardo firmly instructed me. “The ocean waters here in Cozumel are very healing, and you need to experience them frequently while you are here.”
“NO!” I replied. “I can’t jump into the ocean with my clothes on—I need to be in my swim suit.”
Eduardo did not want to give in, but he finally gave me permission to run home for a quick change—strongly emphasizing that I needed to be swimming before sunset.
“You’re still not being flexible.” He reminded me. “You need to be more spontaneous and flowing.”
By 5:15 p.m., I was parking my bicycle along the beach at the north end of town, and a few minutes later I was casually drifting out into the refreshing surf—yes—in my swim suit. A part of me simply would not let go of the common sense rule that I had to wear my swim suit.
Forty-five minutes later, after an energizing and refreshing swim, I was back on my bicycle. With my wet swimsuit already soaking my slacks and blouse that I had put on over the top, I giggled as I realized that I may as well have jumped in wearing full clothing. As I began to ride toward the center of town, I noticed that the skies were getting quite dark in the northwest, and a few sprinkles were already beginning to randomly fall.
“What the heck.” I told myself. “I am already wet—I may as well get completely soaked.”
Minutes later, I was sitting out on a T-shaped pier just south of the ferry terminal, anxiously anticipating the threatening storm. After about twenty minutes, my wish was satisfied. First the winds hit, quickly followed by the drenching downpour. Within the first sixty seconds my clothing was sopping wet.
After several minutes of enjoying the front lines of this delightfully energizing storm, I resumed my slow and deliberate homeward trek—giggling as the constant stream of raindrops splattered on my face, coating my eyeglasses to the point that I could barely see.
As I surrendered completely to the storm, I felt alive and free—again waking up to the fact that I can make the choice to be spontaneous, to break the rules, to do things differently.
Rafael Reunion
The last time I had visited with Rafael was the same day that he was moving out and shutting down his old restaurant. I was surprised to learn a few weeks ago that he has opened a new restaurant with the same name.
As I sat in a trance looking out the window on the Wednesday morning 9:00 a.m. ferry to Playa Del Carmen, excitement filled my mind as I anticipated a reunion with my dear friend. Shortly after 11:00 a.m., Rafael pulled up to the front entry of where his old restaurant used to be. I quickly grabbed the door handle and jumped inside.
“It would be too difficult to describe where I am located now.” Rafael had told me. “It will be much easier if I just pick you up.”
Soon we were chatting away in the front seat of his car, catching up on each others’ lives.
“Look at that large sign.” Rafael told me as we drove by a full size billboard alongside the main highway through town.
As I studied the sign, I noticed a photo of six men in wheelchairs playing basketball. The large billboard proudly advertised Playa Del Carmen’s handicapped basketball team—the National Championship Winners of all of Mexico. There at the front of the photo was a picture of Rafael, in a wheelchair, holding a basketball.
Even though Rafael walks with a severe limp, a result of misdiagnosed medical problems when he was a child, he is amazingly strong, physically and emotionally, and he never lets anything stop him from doing what needs to be done. During our frequent visits, I have grown so accustomed to the way that Rafael drags one foot behind, that I had almost completely forgotten that he limped at all.
“Brenda, we were undefeated in last year’s national tournaments in Mexico City.” Rafael proudly shared. “While I have never needed to use a wheelchair to get around, my leg qualifies me for the team—and I love playing with my friends.”
As we arrived at Rafael’s new restaurant, he proudly showed me around with a huge smile on his face. Quickly, Rafael switched into entrepreneur mode—as he was already behind schedule to open for the busy day. Soon I was helping him move equipment and set up tables and chairs. We continued chatting while Rafael trained a new employee (a young local college student), teaching her how he likes the fruits and vegetables to be prepared for salads and crepes.
Soon, Rafael and I exchanged “until-next-time” hugs—because he never says goodbye—and I was off to my next adventure.
Perfect Timing
Minutes later I was exploring the modern “Mall of The Americas.” My first task was to verify a memory—a synchronous event from three months earlier. Being guided by a series of intuitive feelings in late October, I had ended up finding my red backpack in one of the stores of this very mall. Memory told me that this store did not sell camping gear but Ego was telling me that “Surely, they must have carried other similar items. You could never have found a backpack in a store that does not normally sell them.”
To my delight, as I scoured the store, I verified that my memory was indeed correct. The very store where I discovered my backpack lying on the bottom mattress of a bunk bed did NOT sell camping gear, and there were absolutely no backpacks for sale—not anywhere. Yes, there was one small stack of ice chests for sale—but that was the extent of anything even slightly outdoorsy.
Soon I was seated in a beautiful modern theatre with a huge digital 3D screen, anxiously awaiting a long anticipated showing of the movie Avatar. For what felt like months, I had been eagerly hoping for the opportunity to see the movie in a theater, and I was not disappointed.
I won’t spoil the movie for anyone, but I loved one line in the movie where the main character talked about how he felt like his dreams (time spent immersed in the Planet Pandora) and his waking time (time spent with the humans) were backwards—and he was no longer sure which of the two worlds was real.
In the culture in which I was raised, I was taught so many things about the concepts of success and progress—things which I now see as being totally upside down and backwards. I look at the beautiful simplicity of my life here in Mexico—the peace and joy that can be achieved in the midst of such seeming material lack—the deep spiritual connections that can be embraced with the oneness around me—and I have to simply laugh at my old belief systems that once held me captive, subtle beliefs that still attempt to entwine themselves in my everyday life.
As I left the theatre, situations and events lined up perfectly. I had just enough time for a cab ride back to my bicycle, and then a short bicycle ride followed by a reunion with my friend Michiko at her weekly “A Course In Miracles” study group. Later, I was delighted by a ten minute hug-filled visit with Eduardo’s friends (and now my friends) Tina and Carlos—the same beautiful couple from Spain that I met on the very synchronous day that I left Cozumel on November 12.
Twenty minutes later, as I returned to the ferry dock, I had fully expected to board a 9:00 p.m. ferry—but to my surprise there was no such ferry.
Rather than feel frustrated, I treated the next hour as an incredible opportunity to walk barefoot in the edge of the surf along Playa Del Carmen’s white sandy beaches. As I strolled along the dark nighttime shoreline, the energizing effects of the gentle surf evolved into a deeply meditative experience.
As 10:00 p.m. rapidly approached, I reluctantly said goodbye to the experience of bare feet in cool sand as I slipped back into my sandals, grabbed the handlebars of my trusty bicycle, and strolled back over to catch the final ferry of the evening.
Full Circle
It seems as if everything I have written about today is an example of returning to my roots, revisiting the places and experiences where my beautiful journeys have begun—revisiting the emotions that fueled my passions during my initial bicycle rides into self discovery.
It is so easy to lose track of why I am here, what my purpose is in my life changing adventures. Internal feelings subtly evolve and drift. If not nourished and cared for, the passions that guide me can be so easily forgotten or abandoned.
At times during my first months in Cozumel, and again during my three months stay in Valladolid, I did find myself slipping, forgetting, and falling back into old unhealthy patterns of thinking and behavior. Feelings of fear and judgment found temporary toe-holds, attempting to pull me back even further from my inspired goals.
But through it all, I have indeed managed to stay the observer, recognizing that my slips and stumbles are nothing but temporary experiences to give me time to regroup, to focus within while I prepare for a new leap forward.
At times I have been deeply tempted to deviate from my spiritual journeys into an old familiar pattern of being a tourist on steroids. I have constantly and vigilantly needed to remind myself that I am not a tourist—I am engaged in a different journey—an internal journey.
One early morning last week, during an especially connected meditation period, a few simple lines flowed into my consciousness—ideas that powerfully reinforced this concept.
“I am not here to travel – I am here to live.”
– and more specifically –
“I am not here to see everything – I am here to live in everything I see.”
Last week, as I began to revisit several songs on my IPOD, I came across another song, one which had previously escaped my awareness. As I listened from a new perspective, the words deeply inspired my passions, seeming so appropriate for my present experience.
Artists: Michael and Jeff McLean
Album: Father and Son
Back To Where We Started From
There is a story about a dreamer
That reminds me of someone I know.
He dreamed of building a magic castle
Where everything he cherished could grow.
But as he added up the cost, his vision was lost
And he stopped with the job half done.
He could no longer see, what his castle could be
‘cause he’d forgotten why he’d begun.
We’ll never get to where we’re going
We’ll never find our place in the sun
If we forget to remind each other
We need to get back to where we started from.
If we learn to turn our hearts
Every day’s a brand new start
For a father and a son.
Cause we’ll never get back to where we’re going
Until we get back to where we started from
Yes, as I experience this incredible and energizing reunion with my starting point, my soul is going through a passionate reawakening process. Experiences and memories here in Cozumel are causing me to deeply remember the dreams, inspirations, and passions that started me on my present day journey—the real reasons why I said goodbye to family and friends as I walked away from many of my possessions.
My spiritual fuel tanks have been refilled. My pit stop in Cozumel is nearly complete. As I spend my final few days of errands, reconnecting, and recharging, I cannot wait to launch myself into the next leg of my journey—the first stop of which will be the country of Belize. My 180 day visa expires on Monday and I must leave Mexico, at least for the short term.
I am so deeply grateful for this opportunity to journey back to where I began—not only physically, but also spiritually—and I cannot wait to see where I end up next.
Copyright © 2010 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved