“It is with a flight of monarchs in my belly that I write to you. I truly hope it reaches you. I’ve never written to anyone’s blog before …”
These are the first words I ever read from Rae … and now, through a beautiful flow of amazing synchronicities, she is my new roommate. Energizing shivers pulse through my spine as I attempt to capture the story in words – words that are so inadequate in describing the joyful feelings that fill my heart.
For me, the story goes back four months – back to the beautiful introductory comment that Rae posted on my September 19th blog entitled “Sun Silence: Chocolate Decisions.”
For Rae, the synchronous story goes back three years to a travel adventure of her own – an adventure that began with a ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat – an adventure where she later unexpectedly found herself stranded in Bocas del Toro, a small island off the Caribbean coast of Panama. Rae had lost her bank card and ended up living and working on the island for a few months while waiting for a replacement card to arrive. During her time living in that beautiful island paradise, Rae met a woman who told her about San Marcos and the pyramids meditation center.
Sound familiar?
Two months later, Rae found herself on a small lancha, surrounded by towering volcanoes while gliding across the deep-blue waters of Lake Atitlan. As she took her first steps on the shores of San Marcos, Rae knew in her heart that she was here for a reason. During her memorable time in San Marcos, Rae participated in two chocolate ceremonies with Keith – experiences that impacted her life greatly.
Full Circle
Nearly three years later, new dreams bubbled in Rae’s heart – dreams that guided her to enroll in a documentary film-making program at a University in Ottowa, Canada – dreams that passionately called her to return to San Marcos, to spend more time learning and healing with the Chocolate Shaman while at the same time filming a small documentary surrounding the amazing intuitive work that Keith does.
While performing a deep internet search, hoping to find some way to contact Keith, Rae stumbled across my blog and posted her first heartfelt comment. With great delight, I began to correspond with Rae, while also putting her in direct contact with Keith. In early November, Rae composed a joyous email excitedly announcing that her scholarship application had been approved. She would be arriving here in San Marcos in mid January.
In early December, with energy tingling through my soul, I followed an internal guidance of my own. While trying to decide whether or not to move into a smaller one bedroom apartment at around Christmas time, a strong sense of knowing gently but energetically whispered: “Keep the two bedroom apartment … you will need it … you need to offer the space to Rae when she arrives.”
I find the timing to be quite amazing. Just last week my, my own synchronous journey to San Marcos came full circle as my dear friend Conny came to visit me. Now, just a few days later, Rae’s own journey has also brought her back to the beautiful shores of San Marcos.
I feel deeply delighted and honored to have Rae as my new roommate, and I cannot wait to get to know her better. A whole host of little Jedi voices inside my heart are whispering quite loudly that these next two months are going to be very powerful and profound for everyone involved.
Chocolate Intros
The process has been in motion for many months. Keith’s helper, Isaias, has developed a friendship with a young Mayan man who lives in a small village situated in the mountains just a couple of hours away from San Marcos.
Every twenty days, Isaias travels to the village so that he can perform a Mayan ceremony in honor of his Nagual in the Mayan calendar. Isaias performs his ceremony with the help of his friend’s two older sisters, both of which are Mayan shamans, perhaps more appropriately called Mayan priestesses.
A few months ago, Isaias’s friend came to San Marcos and sat on Keith’s porch, participating in a small chocolate ceremony. It so happens that this was a “first” for Isaias’s friend in two ways – it was his first time drinking cacao and it was his first experience ever spending time around foreigners.
As a result of the experience, Keith was eventually invited to do a small cacao ceremony with the two Mayan women. Even though cacao is believed to have been one of the “Gods” of the ancient Mayan people, its ceremonial use in Mayan tradition has been lost to this beautiful culture – lost for hundreds of years.
In his trip to the village in late December, Keith had two primary hopes – the first being to develop a friendship with these two beautiful women while showing them how he himself uses cacao to help others connect with their own higher energies – the second being a deep hope that the process might somehow inspire these two women to rediscover their own spiritual roots with cacao. Perhaps the process may even be a small step in helping other Mayan spiritual leaders to reconnect with an amazing force from their past.
That trip was a beautiful experience for Keith, resulting in an invitation for him to return.
“Brenda,” Keith told me eagerly on the day after he returned to San Marcos, “Reserve January 18 on your calendar – you will be going back to the village with me.”
Simple Abundance
Shortly after 6:00 a.m. on Tuesday, January 18, we squeeze into the crowded back of a little pickup – a small public transport that happens to be headed in the direction of San Pablo. Keith’s friends Ambe and Moses also join us, as well as my new roommate Rae – who of course brings along her video camera.
In San Pablo we wait eagerly for our first bus connection. Nearly two hours later, after two crowded buses and a short ride in a tuk-tuk, we finally arrive at our destination – a peaceful little village nestled among the beautiful mountains of Guatemala.
To protect the privacy of these beautiful people, I will keep my comments brief, not sharing any identifying details.
As we enter the home of Isaias’s friend, we are greeted with profound love and hospitality. Counting Isaias and his young wife, there are seven of us seated in a small circle of plastic lawn chairs. One of the beautiful Mayan women serves us sweet breads and some type of hot grain drink (the name escapes me).
The room, perhaps fifteen by thirty feet in dimension, has a dry, lumpy, dirt floor, being lit only by warm rays of morning sunlight that filters through the open door. Two double beds fill the corners behind me. At the far end of the room is a small eight foot square area that is curtained off by colorful fabric. I can only assume that this area is another small sleeping space.
When I ask to use a bathroom, I am not at all surprised when Isaias hands me a roll of toilet paper and leads me outside. The seventy-five foot stroll leads me across a small stretch of cornfield, already harvested, now parched in the middle of the dry season. Just before reaching the small outhouse, I dance skillfully around a selection of cow-pies while cautiously maneuvering past two peaceful bulls that are tied up along the path, barely ten feet before my intended destination. I giggle as I carefully close the small wooden door behind me. The board walls of the outhouse only go up about four feet above the ground, and between each six-inch-wide board is a one inch gap – allowing for plenty of air and light to pass through.
An old wood stove is the main gathering point in an adjacent building that houses a traditional Mayan kitchen – a kitchen that has the luxury of a concrete floor. Across the yard is another wooden structure – a small shop where the women’s father builds Marimbas. Guatemala is famous for these beautiful wooden hand-made xylophones.
A darling little 94 year old grandma sits on a small wooden chair out in the shade, near a small outdoor sink area in which clothes and dishes are washed. She wears the most brilliant of colors, and has the cutest hat – a light-tan stiff-brimmed straw hat decorated with bright colors and little homemade ornaments that dangle from the wide brim.
I am in love with the family, the children, the grandma, the land, the surrounding mountains, and the simplicity-filled abundance. These beautiful people have everything they need.
Tale of Two Ceremonies
It is mid-morning as the valley floor disappears from view. After a breath-taking and breath-consuming fifteen-minute hike up a neighboring hillside, we crest a small hill, leave the trail, and step into a small clearing surrounded by trees. In the center of the ceremonial space is a tiny fire pit. On the far side is a home-made stone altar. The soil around the center is black and mixed with ash, the result of many sacred fire ceremonies. There is barely room for nine of us to sit around the edges of the small circle. I am lucky enough to have a young tree to support my back as I sit cross-legged above a pile of dry pine needles. Anticipation fills my heart as the ceremony begins.
The mechanics of the fire-ceremony itself are very similar to others that I have experienced in Guatemala – but today is special. This is not a noisy gathering for tourists – this is a quiet and reverent ceremony to honor and celebrate Isaias’s Nagual – a special ceremony performed by a local Mayan woman who works from deeply within her heart. A beautiful energy fills our space – an energy of genuine love – an energy of deep connection to the divine.
Several hours later, the final flames of the small fire dance into oblivion, disappearing in a tiny puff of smoke that soon drifts away in the light breeze. After exchanging hugs, our feet soon scurry along a narrow trail, taking us back toward our starting point, back to the valley floor below. Seconds later, we again view the gorgeous vista of the isolated valley. The valley floor is lightly covered by a puffy-white mist – a light layer of smoke created by cooking fires, one of which was used to cook our delicious lunch.
And a delicious lunch it is – a heaping bowl of chicken soup, consisting of a very flavorful broth, a large chunk of chicken breast, and several large portions of boiled vegetables.
Shortly after 2:30 p.m., we begin a second ceremony, a ceremony in which Keith serves chocolate, not only to the two Mayan women and Isaias’s friend – but also to the women’s mother, their beautiful grandmother, and to many of the young children. Of course, the children are only given very small amounts of the chocolate magic.
For a couple of hours, Keith works with the two women, using Isaias as a translator. Both are gifted in their energy connections. One has struggled through much of her life with the confusing dilemma of being an empath – someone who deeply feels and internalizes the emotional densities of others. I am thrilled with the occasional opportunity to participate, and even more blessed by the opportunity to share rare hugs and emotion with these beautiful Mayan women. Before today, I have never witnessed a Mayan woman express such emotion. I am honored to be in their presence.
As darkness begins to fall, a taxi whisks us away on the first leg of our return journey. Soon, twenty-seven of us are packed in a fifteen passenger van, zooming down one of Guatemala’s mountain highways – Rae and Ambe stand in the doorway, hanging onto the roof-rack while allowing their bodies to catch the cool evening air. Our next bus is large and roomy, with plenty of space to stretch out.
A couple of hours later, as I again step across the threshold of my doorway in San Marcos, I am bubbling with renewed anticipation. The two Mayan women have invited us to return in a few weeks. I am eager and excited to see what happens next.
Joyous Interludes
“Brenda?”
As I heard my name, I stopped suddenly, turned around, and looked into the eyes of a tall, thin, blond-haired young woman. I had never met her before in this lifetime, yet her face resonated a very familiar energy.
“Rae?” I replied with a giggle, quickly running over to give her a welcoming hug.
It was Friday night of last week. Rae was showing her father around San Marcos and I was headed to an impromptu dinner with Conny and Anjili, less than thirty minutes after finishing an amazing session Keith – the very session where I first began to feel my feet fill with energy – energy that continues to increase on a daily basis.
Rae’s father and sister had accompanied her on the first leg of her trip, so she would not be moving in with me until her family moved on.
This week has shaped up to be quite beautiful. Twenty-four people came to the chocolate ceremony on Sunday – a ceremony that brought with it a powerful energy of loving connections and profound emotional release. That was Rae’s first chocolate ceremony since returning to San Marcos.
I laughed inside as Keith was chatting with the group while they drank their chocolate. He began to mention casually that a woman was coming to San Marcos to film a documentary – and that she was probably already somewhere at the lake by now.
“Uh, Keith,” I giggled as I reached over and tapped him on the knee, “she is right here.”
When I pointed to Rae, Keith jumped out of his seat to give her a hug of his own
On Monday, I followed internal guidance that took me in a different direction – to a small drum circle ceremony in the house of my friend Michelle. But as the ceremony ended, and as conversation unfolded, a strongly distracted energy tugged at my heart, telling me that I did not belong here, that I needed to go back to Keith’s.
Feeling quite awkward, I excused myself from the conversation, told Michelle that I needed to leave, and hurried toward Keith’s porch. Upon arriving at my favorite magical playground, dear Ambe was going through a deep emotional release of her own. With eyes closed, she was shedding a few powerful tears while working with Keith.
“I was wishing Brenda’s energy was here to help me,” Ambe suddenly blurted out as she opened her tear-filled eyes, “and now here she is.”
My heart smiled inside as I clearly recognized that I was now where I needed to be
On Wednesday, the very morning after a beautiful exchange of ceremonies in a tiny mountain village, I returned to more worldly pursuits as I made a hurried trip to Panajachel for money and food supplies. I had been so busy with friends – old friends and new friends – that I had nearly run out of money and other basics.
Again, for the fourth day this week, I was blessed with the opportunity to hone my healing intuitions – to practice following my inner guidance – to fill my heart with love as I learn to share that heart energy with others.
A New Energy
Thursday morning, as I begin to focus on some writing, I am delighted to spot Rae walking up to my patio door, carrying a few of her belongings.
“Can I move my stuff in this morning?” Rae asks eagerly as I swing the door open in front of her. Her family has now left the area and she is anxious to settle in for the next phase of her own journey.
My face grins widely as I invite my new roommate to make herself comfortable. Just being around Rae’s presence seems to stir a dormant creative energy in my soul. A deep sense of inner knowing strongly stirs in my awareness. Rational mind is utterly clueless, but my soul advises me to fasten my seatbelt.
An Empty Hole
Feeling intuitively guided at the beginning of our Thursday afternoon chocolate-gathering, I pick up one of Keith’s crystals – a large cluster of “elestial quartz”. The beautiful crystal seems to be calling to me, begging me to place it over my lower abdomen.
As I do so, I gradually begin to feel a deeply agitated energy in the area of my second chakra – an energy causing both sharp pain and anxiousness.
In the midst of a guided meditation, I discover a deep black cave situated somewhere in my abdominal energy – a dark vertical hole into which I have absolutely no desire to venture. The physical pain increases as my belly begins to feel like a very active popcorn popper. The energy being agitated and stirred by the crystal brings with it a growing feeling of intense anxiety and fear.
“Ask the angels to help you transmute this dense energy.” Keith instructs me lovingly as I ask for guidance. “Don’t try to do it all by yourself.”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I struggle to connect with higher energies. For five or ten additional minutes I feel helpless and lost. At some level I know that this pain is associated with deeply suppressed energies and memories.
I don’t have the courage to go on alone.
“Will you be my angel?” I call out to Ambe as I glance at her across the circle through tear-filled eyes.
Soon, I am curled up on my right side, lying on foam cushions in the middle of the circle, with my head resting in Ambe’s lap. Her warm gentle hands softly caress my cheeks. Muffled tears continue to flow, while further intuitive insights elude me.
To my surprise, Moses soon feels guided to climb on top of me, laying the weight of his body on my left side, nearly smothering me with his gentle masculine energy. Ambe continues to cradle my head, twisting her fingers around dangling wisps of my hair.
“This is to help you achieve more balance between your masculine and feminine energies.” The little Jedi voices quietly whisper to my heart.
Soon, my heart again begins to glow with joy and love. I cannot say what changed inside – I have no rational understanding as to what may have shifted energetically – but the peace in my soul quietly reassures me that I am being gently guided through a very carefully orchestrated healing process – a process being carefully guided by my own Higher Self.
Twirling Terrors
Friday evening, after another magical afternoon on Keith’s porch, my heart stirs as Rae and I begin to share life stories and experiences over dinner.
I look at this beautiful twenty-five-year-old woman and see a creative master – someone filled with so much beauty and budding creativity – creativity just screaming to find an expressive canvas on which to blossom.
Then I look at myself, fifty-five years young, having spent the majority of those years hiding in the prison cells of self-limiting belief systems – cowering behind years of subconscious dysfunction, burying my creative instincts beneath layer after layer of emotional rubble. Yes, I have begun to crack open the steel vault doors of my creativity, but so much passion remains locked tightly behind walls of hidden and unidentified fear.
“I am going to love living around your creative energy” I giggle with Rae as I share my heart. “I intuitively feel as if some of your beautiful energy is about to rub off on me.”
Later that evening, after hours of heartfelt conversation, Rae puts on some music, turns off the lights, and begins to dance and twirl freely around the room.
“Come on Brenda,” Rae encourages me, “why don’t you get up and dance too?”
My heart skips a beat in sheer terror. Rae has unknowingly removed the lid from one of my worst nightmares.
I slowly rise to my feet, access my inner strength, and begin to awkwardly move my body. Even though Rae is not even looking in my direction, I feel like an uncoordinated freak. I have no idea what I am doing – no idea how to move gracefully. I imagine that the whole world is staring at me, laughing at me. I have personally experienced this terrifying scenario all too often – not in real life, but deep in my imagination. Tonight, my imagination again creates a frightening reality.
Rae’s loving energy gives me the courage to risk. In the darkness of night, I begin to move around the living room, gradually increasing in confidence.
As I later retire to my pillow, my emotions are calm, loving, and peaceful – but a part of me recognizes that I am just beginning to take the lid off my nightmares.
Paltry Pity Party
Writing is my primary goal for Saturday. I turn down an opportunity to play a little – to go to the market in nearby Santa Clara with Keith, Ambe, Moses, and Rae. I am determined to keep my writing up to date, to keep my passions alive. Yes, it feels right to do what is good for me, to pass by fun opportunities that do not speak to my heart.
As I stare at my keyboard, I first focus on the energy in my fingertips. I am amazed by how my energetic sensitivities have gradually increased. Next, I become aware of the distinct presence of vibrating energy in the arches of my feet. I ponder about my ongoing focus in relaxing these precious feet of mine – in allowing them to reconnect to the feminine and creative flow of energies from Mother Earth.
I again reflect on last night’s terrorizing fear of dancing – dancing in the darkness of my own living room while someone else was in the same room – someone who was not even watching.
I simply stare at the keyboard, patiently waiting for my fingers to begin typing – patiently wondering when the first key might be pressed.
But absolutely nothing happens – nothing of the creative variety that is.
Instead, fear and pity begin to consume me. Memories flood my mind – emotional memories that stick their prickly needles into my soft and tender heart. These are lifelong memories of stifled creativity, of feeling excessively stupid and inadequate, fearful of taking risks, horrified at the thought of showing something unique and original for fear I would be ridiculed and laughed at.
Yes, I know these fears are all lies – but their sharp claws are dug deeply into my soul. I cannot seem to shake them off – to break free of their clinging grasp. I remind myself regarding how far I have come, how much I have grown, how many fears I have embraced, faced, and overcome.
Still, I stare blankly at my untouched keyboard. Tears begin to swell in my eyes. For most of the next two hours I listen to music while curled up in the fetal position on my bed, crying lightly, mingled with the occasional sob of self-pity. Several times I force myself back to my laptop, muster my inner strength and tell myself that I am going to write. In each instance, I am soon back in bed without typing even a single letter.
Help Mister Wizard
I am quite surprised when Rae returns earlier than I expected. Attempting to hide the moisture in my eyes is not even worth the effort.
“Keith suggested that we should all get together this afternoon.” Rae cheerfully announces as she unpacks the treasures she brought home from the Santa Clara market. “He said that we should either come over to his house, or perhaps he, Ambe, and Moses might walk over here.”
The thought of visiting Keith cheers me up slightly. It has become quite clear that I am not going to write today. I remember a promise I made to myself in December – a promise not to write when my passions are not engaged.
Through waves of tears, I share my woe-is-me self-denigrating struggles with Rae – being sure to emphasize that I am fully aware of my pity party, that I know it is all based on lies, but that I am stuck there, seemingly unable to pry myself free from this toxic quicksand using my own strength.
By 12:30 p.m. I am walking onto Keith’s porch. I know Saturday is his day off, but the fact that social plans were suggested gives me the courage I need – the courage to face my fears, to admit my vulnerability, and to ask for help.
“I’m stuck and having a really hard time.” I blurt out through a fresh round of tears.
Divine Eyes
“I am not nauseous, but I feel like I need to vomit something out of my abdomen.” I exclaim through frightened sobs. “I’m terrified to go in there to take a look.”
The intense emotions run in waves. When I attempt to open the subconscious vault the terror and sobs begin. When I retreat to a safe distance, the fearful anxiety recedes.
“We don’t need to go in there today.” Keith reassures me.
“No, I want to do this.” I interrupt. “I am ready, I want to face my fears, I want to know what this is about.”
I am clueless as to the origin of my gut-wrenching terror. I know it is deeply related to teenage social fears – of self-loathing, self-judgment, self-ridicule. But no specific issues rise to the surface – just intense memories of feeling stupid, of being terrified to dance, of being traumatized by the thoughts of others watching and critiquing my dance style.
I know my fears are being triggered by Friday night’s dancing in the dark, but I am unable to mentally pierce through the outer defenses of my subconscious mind. For more than two hours I vacillate between terror-filled sobs and calm emotion-numbing interludes. No clarity arises in my heart – no deepening intuitions surface to take me further down the rabbit hole.
“Do I need to actually understand and experience these emotions?” I ask Keith inquisitively. “Or can I simply call in higher energies to help me transmute them without actually going deeper into the emotional work?”
“Close your eyes and let’s find out.” Keith reassures me. “Bring in the light and ask your Higher Self to move these emotional densities for you … to help you transmute them.”
I begin to sunbathe in the light of divine energies – something I had been unable to do in the morning by myself – something that my energies would simply not allow me to do – something that now seems so simple and easy. I feel peaceful energy moving within my soul. I have no rational idea as to exactly what might be shifting, just what emotional densities might be on their way out – but I know that I am on the Angel’s operating table, being worked on by higher energies that love and care for me. There is nothing I need do except to surrender and allow.
Ambe soon positions herself on a foam cushion near my feet. For what seems like an eternity, I stare into Ambe’s glowing eyes. In her beautiful gaze, I see divinity. I see my own divine origins reflected back to me, reminding me of the heavenly birthright that we all share. My connections to source are re-established. My heart is once again powerful and loving. Another layer of emotional density has been processed and released.
Dance As If No One Is Watching
“We should all go out tonight to get some dinner and listen to music.” Keith suggests as my healing session reaches completion. During high season, there is always some type of live music going on in San Marcos on a cool Saturday night.
Later that evening, Keith, Ambe, Moses, Rae and I all wander over to a local restaurant to enjoy delightful company and a rare Chinese meal. At around 8:00 p.m., we then gather at yet another local restaurant where a small band is about to play.
As Rae jumps up to dance, I find myself following closely behind, eager to explore my own fears (or lack of them). Soon, Ambe joins the mix, and I realize that I have lost all inhibitions – at least for now. For the most part, I merely dance the way I have always tried to dance – but simply doing so with more confidence. On one song that has a really weird and dramatic beat, I begin to instinctively act out really stupid dance moves – doing so on purpose. Ambe and I then take turns mimicking each other while we both laugh and giggle about our crazy dancing. Later, Ambe teaches Rae and me a few belly dancing moves. Even though I am hopelessly clueless about how I could ever possibly move my belly muscles in such complicated ways, I give it a try and have a good laugh at myself.
Later that night, as I climb into bed, I ask myself the crucial question, “Was my progress tonight real, or is it a one-time temporary burst of extra confidence?”
The answer will only come with time. There have been other times in my life in which I have also had fun at dances. It is entirely possible that this was simply one of those rare occasions.
But my heart swells with a firm sense of knowing, assuring me that something real has indeed shifted inside my soul.
Life is so much more fun when I can write as if no one is reading, and when I can dance as if no one is watching.
Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved