I’m speechless, wondering how to even begin painting this image. I’m sitting on a wall at the southwest corner of the plaza. As I prepared to write, just moments ago, my attention was captured by the loud beating of distant ceremonial drums. Expecting to find a group of local people continuing to celebrate their nation’s independence, my assumption could not have been further from the truth.
Five Native American men, dressed in elaborate ceremonial garb, are entertaining a small gathering of tourists. How I wish I had my camera. It is at times like this when I realize that no picture painted simply with words could ever do justice to the incredible sight right before my eyes.
Each of the five is costumed differently, wearing authentic headdresses of incredible workmanship. One has the head of a jaguar, with a bundle of black feathers bursting upward from his crown. Another, the skull of a large bird, with a huge plume of ornate feathers fanning out above his head, like an eagle with its wings spread wide. A shrunken human skull adorns the head feathers of another—giving the eerie feeling of a cannibal warrior.
Their body paint is equally unique. One sports an earthen-greenish glow, with intricate Aztec-like imagery painted on his bare chest, arms and legs, his feathered headgear resembling a small Aztec temple. Another radiates a pale orange, with a seeming animal-like glow, painted with leopard spots. The others remind me of a mixture between Amazon jungle cannibals and the not-of-this-earth villains from the movie “The Mummy.”
Most wear only loin cloths; one also has thin leather shoulder protectors—like ancient Egyptian armor, cut with square edges in the shape of an upside down pyramid. Earthen in color, this shoulder armor was decorated with emerald green and dark brown spots and rectangular lines. The greenish warrior wears a necklace made from animal claws, and also wears the jawbone of a small fox or wolf as if it were a large bracelet pushed up around his elbow.
Several wear a variety of ornate leather protectors around their shins; all wear bundles of dried seedpods tied to their ankles, emitting a rattling sound as they ceremoniously dance and circle the flames.
As the drums beat wildly on, the sound of a flute gently wafts through the air as one native warrior dances perilously close to flames that burn in a small ceramic urn. Holding his bare foot just two inches above the flames, he defies the intense heat, standing strongly, with no signs of flinching.
The drumming stops, the warriors suddenly become everyday people, encouraging tourists to take photos and leave tips. Even with their smiles and conversation, something about these warriors feels real, authentic. Their costumes, makeup, and body language are so genuine that picturing them as anything else is a stretch, even while I observe it with my own eyes.
Now they move on, picking up their drums, their urns, their feathery garb, looking for more tourists—someone more interested in photos and tips. My heart yearns for more.
Patiently Waiting
Exactly one week has passed since I engaged in my own fire ceremony. Early last Thursday morning, as I sat by my sunrise campfire, meditating with the energy of Mexico’s native spirit guides, I asked that I might be welcomed into their land—that new doors might be opened to me. I could never have anticipated how quickly these doors would begin to form.
Tuesday morning, as I sat in my kitchen, reading a relaxing book, I heard a beep and glanced over at my laptop screen. A new email was showing in my inbox. Slightly curious, I set my book aside and strolled over to my computer, not really expecting anything important.
My heart jumped with excitement as I recognized the return email address—my new message was from Rafael.
In the first few months after leaving Cozumel in December of 2007, I had felt a sense of urgency. I was unable to shake those powerful resonating words, “Brenda, you need to come back and meet my Medicine Man.”
Rafael had mentioned that he might move to Puerta Vallarta in six months, and I wanted to act quickly. I desired to return to Cozumel while the emotions were fresh—before he had a chance to move away.
Over a period of those first few months, I sent Rafael perhaps three emails, asking “Please tell me when would be a good time for me to come back. I am really fascinated by the thought of meeting your medicine man.”
A few months later, I was thrilled to finally find a response in my inbox. But my eager emotions were quickly met with disappointment. Rafael’s email was entirely superficial with stuff like “How are you Brenda? It is so good to hear from you. Please tell me about yourself and your life.” He didn’t even mention the Medicine Man or answer any of my questions.
That was the last and only email I ever received from Rafael. I replied almost immediately—but he had never reciprocated—seeming to simply disappear.
My internal passion remained clear—I knew deeply in my heart that one day I needed to return to Cozumel—there was literally no doubt in my soul concerning this matter. But my intuition also said “slow down Brenda … it is not time yet … Rafael is not responding because he also knows it is not time … just be patient and trusting … you will yet return … someday when the circumstances will be perfect.”
About a year ago, I sent another email to Rafael, letting him know of my continued spiritual growth and my continuing desire to return one day. “Are you still living in Cozumel?” I asked him. “If not, can you give me any information about your Medicine man so I can find him on my own?”
Rafael never responded—zip—nada—yet I remained at peace. I trusted my feelings, feelings that continued to simply say “patience … keep waiting … it will happen.”
Imagine my feelings just a few months ago as my internal promptings came to life—promptings that told me “now is indeed the time to return to Cozumel.” The feelings were so powerful that I knew I would be here for an extended stay regardless of whether or not I ever heard from Rafael. I was fascinated by the possibilities yet entirely unattached in any way to the outcome.
Just in case though, I sent another email in Rafael’s direction, telling him about my plans. This was only my second email attempt in twelve months. I was not in the least bit surprised by his continued silence. Complete peace continued to engulf my soul. Trusting my instincts, I knew that all would work out exactly as it needs to.
Three short weeks ago, after I discovered Villa Maya on an inspired jungle bicycle ride, I followed promptings in my heart and made one last attempt at emailing Rafael—still trusting the universe—not really expecting a reply from him.
Last Thursday, as my incredible sunrise bicycle journey came to an energetic conclusion, abundant peace permeated my being. A feeling of profound gratitude flooded through my heart, accompanied by the recognition that were it not for Rafael’s mysterious participation in my life I may never have begun my present-day journey.
Today, my mind cannot even fathom the thought of a being on a different path, and I have Rafael to thank for igniting the internal passions that continue to inspire me as I step into the unknown.
In keeping with his mysterious style, Rafael’s email this week was quite cryptic. “Brenda, meet me in Playa Del Carmen on Saturday morning at <so and so> restaurant on the corner of <such and such> streets. I work there now.”
On Saturday morning, I will step into this next phase of my adventure with a deep sense of wonder, still holding absolutely no attachment to any outcome. It is hard to fathom how my journey could become any more energized.
Peruvian Possibilities
Yesterday, as I explored the streets of Playa Del Carmen, my first goal was to scout the area, to make sure I could find the restaurant where I will be meeting Rafael this Saturday. My second goal was to attend a spiritual support group for “A Course in Miracles.”
Eduardo had felt inspired to give me Michiko’s phone number, telling me “Brenda, she is a very spiritual lady … you absolutely must meet her.”
It baffles me, but I have always been intimidated by the thought of telephoning a complete stranger. For several days, I avoided the phone call—a call which I knew was inevitable.
My heart continuously pressed me, “You know you have to make this call … there is no avoiding it! … get over it already … this is an important part of your path.”
My ego resisted, saying, “No … I don’t want to … I feel stupid … she doesn’t know who I am … she won’t want to talk to me.”
A few days ago I finally suppressed my silly insane fears long enough to punch in Michiko’s phone number and press the call button. Once she answered there was no going back.
As we first began to converse, I had no idea if Michiko even spoke English. After exchanging Spanish greetings, and a few more introductory sentences, I simply asked her. Peaceful calm settled in as her reply was, “Yes, I do speak English.”
Through our short phone conversation, I explained who I was, and asked about the “A Course In Miracles” study groups that she hosts. “We have them at my home every Wednesday evening at 6:00 p.m. … Will I see you this week?”
Even while knowing that the groups were conducted entirely in Spanish, my peaceful heart responded “Yes, absolutely.”
Soon, I surprised even myself when I asked, “Can I come by your home earlier so we can have a chance to visit and get to know each other?”
My past self would have died at the thought of being so bold as to ask for extra time from a perfect stranger—but my new self just blurted it out, with no planned forethought. It is amazing what comes out of my mouth when I surrender to my internal voices.
“Yes, meet me at 5 p.m.” she responded. I was thrilled and excited by the prospect of meeting yet another new spiritual friend, at the same time clueless as to why I was doing so. Ego tried to convince me that traveling frequently to Playa Del Carmen is too expensive and time consuming—that I was just wasting time and money.
Last night’s one-on-one conversation with Michiko was fascinating. In addition to her study of my favorite spiritual path, she has considerable experience in many spiritual traditions—and we briefly delved into many of these. Having a completely open mind, I simply became a sponge—absorbing all that I could.
Michiko told me about a friend who has become immersed in Incan spiritual traditions—a friend who now lives in Peru between Machu Pichu and Cuzco. I asked many questions, because the thought of Peru becoming one of my future bicycle stops has been resonating deeply with my soul for more than a month.
I was one of four women at the study group. Amazement would be an appropriate term to describe my feelings when I realized that I was able to communicate so easily with these women—in Spanish nonetheless. The evening was delightful, spiritually uplifting, and meditative.
As our group discussion came to a close, Michiko took us on a journey through a guided meditation. Visual imagery has never been my strong point, and I expected to struggle with language—but I was pleasantly surprised on both counts. The mediation was powerful, deeply moving, and incredibly relaxing. As Michiko spoke slowly, melodically, I actually understood almost everything. The spiritual peace I experienced was profound.
As much as I thoroughly enjoyed the entire evening, it was our short parting discussion that most intrigued me. First, Michiko pointed to her couch and said “Brenda, this sofa folds out into a bed. It is yours any time you are here and want to spend the night.”
Then, when I asked Michiko for her email address, she handed me a card and said. “I will also give you my friend in Peru’s contact information. She is a good person to know when you go there. She already has many connections with the local Shamans.”
My heart nearly skipped a beat as my mind played back that last sentence. I could already feel the energy of being in Peru with Michiko’s friend, near Cuzco, meeting and interacting with these Peruvian spiritual leaders.
After exchanging a round of hugs, I scurried out into the darkness, hailed the first taxi I came across, and zoomed back to the center of town—arriving just in time to catch the 8:00 p.m. ferry.
As I look back, pondering the unfolding events of these past few days, I cannot help but be intrigued by the possibilities. Indeed, it seems as if doors are literally forming right in front of me everywhere I go, requiring no effort on my part. It truly seems that all I need do is connect with the silence of my internal voices and quietly step through each door as it swings open.
The picture seems so obvious to me now. If Rafael had responded any sooner, I would most likely have stopped searching elsewhere. I might have completely missed out on my memorable experiences with Eduardo and now Michiko—and Michiko seems to be handing me the keys to a future bicycle adventure in the mountains of Peru.
As I step through each open door, the anticipation is magical.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved