As I fast approach the end of week three, I find myself beginning to get sucked into a monotonous daily routine. Old behavioral patterns are creeping into present circumstances, and new habits are developing. I have begun to catch myself ignoring small things that brought such pleasure during my early days here in Cozumel. Yes, in some ways, the magic of each moment has begun to fade, feeling increasingly familiar and even slightly taken for granted.
“Here I am sitting in a tropical paradise, and I am beginning to yawn,” I pondered, “What’s up with that?”
I have full awareness that my spiritual growth depends on being alive in every moment, being in tune with the very essence of the universe surrounding me. One of my primary intents in physically uprooting myself from familiar surroundings was to coax myself to focus on meditation and spiritual growth—especially during the late night and early morning hours while the ego is sleeping.
This morning, at 5:00 a.m., my higher self emerged successful in yet another emotional tug-of-war with my old belief systems. I awoke feeling quite rested, and was unable to return to sleep. My little Jedi-Master voices were quietly saying “Brenda … get up … you know you want to … it is time to meditate … to raise your vibrations … to get on with the real reason you came to Cozumel.”
“Hell no!” was my firm ego response. “I want my sleep, I need my sleep, and I don’t feel very spiritual right now. I had a long day yesterday … and I’ll be tired later if I get up now.”
Feeling very resistant, I fought to go back to sleep. An added complication to trying to sleep was the fact that the air around me felt excessively hot and humid, causing me to sweat—even though I was laying on top of my sheets in light clothing.
“It will be cool and pleasant up on the roof.” My internal voices quietly encouraged me.
“I’m tired! I don’t want to go up on the roof,” was my whining and rebellious reply.
This internal debate went on for several minutes before my higher self finally won out. I forced my feet out of bed and onto the tile floor, quietly coaxed myself onto the roof, and ended up spending a glorious, peaceful, refreshing hour witnessing the magical birthing process of yet another beautiful new day.
So why am I still fighting and resisting such incredible experiences? Why do I still cling furiously to my old habits and beliefs about sleep? I’m not sure I can answer that.
I do need to give myself a great deal of credit, however. Even in the face of intense resistance, the morning after a long and tiring day, I eventually did listen to my internal voices. I allowed another incredibly positive experience to bathe my soul, and I am gradually overcoming old beliefs about sleep—one day at a time.
The Energy of Tulum
El Castillo
Nestled on rocky cliffs above the crystal blue shores of the Caribbean Sea, Tulum is an ancient walled Mayan city, situated approximately 40 miles south of Playa Del Carmen on the Yucatan peninsula. Because of its large temple and other well maintained structures, Tulum is a popular tourist site, with visitors coming from all over the world to enjoy its beauty. But it was not merely the structures that were calling out to me—I was being drawn by the energy of the ancients. I cannot explain it, other than to say that starting Tuesday afternoon, something inside of me was gently pulling me, calling out to me, “Brenda … it is time … time for you to come to Tulum.”
Arriving early at the waterfront terminal, I soon learned that there was no 8:00 a.m. ferry today “No problem,” I told myself, as I eagerly paid my 140 pesos ($11 USD) for a spot on the 9:00 a.m. boat. Being only a half block from the plaza, I had no trouble at all imagining how to occupy my extra hour.
As I enjoyed the freshness of the cool morning air, a huge Carnival cruise ship slowly drifted into view. There is something about these huge ships that instills in me a feeling of majesty and greatness. These ships carry such a presence about them, an exciting energy of exploration and new experiences. For a few minutes, I remained engulfed in the experience as I absorbed the vista before me.
Once aboard my own ferry boat, immediately prior to pushing off from the pier, another huge cruise ship drifted by—this one being the same Disney Magic ship that I witnessed two short Wednesday’s earlier. My camera shutter was busy opening and closing as I attempted to capture and record the beautiful sites.
As I sit here, writing in the plaza, my mind is temporarily drawn to some tourists asking a local policeman for a photo opportunity. The forty-something American woman walks up and puts her arm around the shoulders of the officer, who is handsomely dressed in his black uniform, sporting a small machine gun hanging over his left shoulder. Not all of the local policemen carry these machine guns, but when I do see one, I am quickly reminded that I am not in Utah anymore. Another medium sized lizard, tan with black stripes, perhaps 18 inches from head to tail, slowly zigzags its way toward me, checking out each berry along the way. It pauses, motionless, briefly stares right at me, then resumes its quest as it disappears to my left. My attention is now captured by a beautiful florescent green lizard munching on some leaves. He is fascinating new addition, one that has not previously graced me with its presence.
The forty-minute ferry ride seemed to pass rapidly as I immersed myself in the twelve-mile journey. Three times, my curiosity kicked into gear, when miles from the nearest land, a large yellow butterfly danced briefly in the air above me before returning to its migration path over the open ocean waters below. A few minutes later, another yellow butterfly again repeated the same dance, followed a few minutes later by yet a third.
Once the ferry gently docked at the pier in Playa Del Carmen, I eagerly disembarked with my next task eminent in my mind—find my rental car agency. As I began orienting myself, I was pleased to recognize that the street system was almost identical to that of Cozumel, and a short ten minutes later, dripping with sweat, I arrived at the tiny rental agency. (Have I said yet that the humidity here is off the charts?)
Soon I was out on the roads, steering my little Volkswagen Jetta through the narrow crowded streets of Playa Del Carmen. Armed with only a sparse map, my instincts, and memories of a bus ride to Tulum in 2007, I set off on the next leg of my adventure.
Another interruption here … a white haired fifty-something Mexican man is walking through the plaza, carrying a box on his head, repeatedly singing a loud jingle, advertising whatever treasures he has in his box—his voice being projected in a way that it carries throughout the immediate area. He is the first I have seen doing this in the plaza, but such practice is common in the neighborhood streets. The bread/pastry man rides by on his bicycle several times a day, loudly making a clapping noise to capture peoples’ attention. The propane gas truck drives by frequently, playing a loud, and now familiar, song signifying they are in the area. Each vendor has their own calling card to announce their presence. It is quite a different way of life here.
The area south of Playa Del Carmen, while presenting a similar look and feel, was quite different from the small town feel of Cozumel. While still in the city, I passed by large stores, including even a Sam’s Club. Once on the open road, I was surprised to see an occasional modern overpass—different, but similar to what you might encounter in the states.
Some 40 miles south of Playa Del Carmen, just off this modern four lane highway, was the small exit to Tulum—an exit that I very easily could have driven right past if I were not watching so carefully. Before heading for the ruins, I detoured to use a small restroom. If I had not done this a few times before on other occasions, I would have been very surprised when an attendant asked me for 3.5 pesos. The small 30 cent fee gave me a two-and-a-half-foot strip of toilet paper along with the privilege of entering the bathroom.
Finally, after chugging down most of my first liter of water, I grabbed my backpack and a second full liter, and set off down a ¼ mile path leading up to the wall of the ancient city. I didn’t bother purchasing any tours, I did that in 2007—this time I was eager to simply sit and inhale the ambience and the energy. After making a quick obligatory photo-taking tour, I found myself a spot with a view—under a shady tree in a large open area just a few hundred yards west of the main structure “El Castillo”
Having neither plans nor intentions, I simply sat there, enjoying the ambience, reading a book, meditating, observing people, and drinking water. My liter of water was soon a distant memory as I gulped it down in short order as a defense against the intense heat and humidity. Once my water was gone, not wanting to leave, I sought out a cooler setting to spend my final hours.
Almost directly south of “El Castillo”, a winding wooden staircase leads down to the water’s edge. Surrounded on all sides by jagged rocky cliffs, a small sandy beach sits in this beautiful pristine location. In this incredible ambience, a mixed gathering of tourists and locals were enjoying the cool refreshing energy of the blue Caribbean waters. Not being prepared for a swim, I was interested in the cool afternoon shade created by the cliffs. I could have sat there reading all day, but alas the clock was ticking away and I instinctively knew it was time to retrace my path back to Cozumel.
The only snag I ran into on my homeward journey was trying to convince a machine-gun carrying policeman to let me drive my rental car down a restricted street near the Playa Del Carmen pedestrian-only district. After the officer told me “No” three times, I somehow managed to get my point across, and was allowed to drive the last few hundred feet to park my car in front of the agency where I had picked it up just eight hours earlier.
On my way back toward the ferry terminal, I detoured with a short peaceful stroll along a stretch of the white sandy beaches of Playa Del Carmen. How I wished I had my swimsuit and a little more time, but alas I was exhausted and anxious to return to my new abode.
After disembarking from my homebound crossing on the 6:00 p.m. ferry, my journey took me full circle through the town plaza in Cozumel. In the corner of my eye, I noticed my sweet friend Miguel talking to a food vendor. As I approached him, he took my hand in his, pulled me toward him, and gave me a little peck on the right cheek. After we chatted for a few minutes, he looked me in the eyes, and said “If I don’t see you again before you go home, I want you to know that I am going with you.” Then he paused to find the words that I might understand, as he corrected “I, Me, am not going with you, but (pointing to his heart) my heart is going with you.”
After a final brief hug from Miguel, and a ten minute walk, I tiredly unlocked my gate, climbed my staircase, and hurried my exhausted, hot, and sweaty body into the cool embrace of a refreshing soothing shower.
© Brenda Larsen, 2009