Brenda's Bicycles

It feels like a huge family camping trip. Keith reaches into his rafters and pulls down camping pads, sleeping bags, and every spare blanket that he owns. Soon, fourteen of us slowly stroll into the cool evening air, heading back toward my apartment while carrying a bulky load of sleeping gear. We all giggle and laugh while conversing in broken Spanish. 

As soon as everything is settled and secure in my now-crowded apartment, Keith announces that he will be hosting everyone for dinner. For many of our beautiful Mayan guests, especially the children, this will be their first-ever dining experience in a western-style restaurant. 

What a fun time I have! The young children, four boys and one girl, seem to have taken a delightful liking to me. We laugh and giggle together while I stumble through the process of attempting to memorize each of their complicated names – each one of them having at least two first names and two last names.  

Meanwhile, the Mayan women browse briefly through the menu, chattering quietly to each other in their local Mayan dialect. I observe the concerned look in their faces as one woman nervously points at the prices in the menu. 

“Please,” I translate into Spanish for Keith. “Don’t worry about the price. Keith wants you to order anything on the menu that you want.” 

Soon I am giggling with the children, doing amateur magic tricks while still stumbling through continued attempts at remembering names. I am in heaven, surrounded by the playful loving energy of five beautiful little angels. 

After a long wait, the food finally arrives. Most in our group have their own individual menu selections, but I have opted to share several pizzas with the children. To my shock, the very instant a pizza is placed on the table in front of us, I barely have time to grab a single piece before the pan sits empty in front of me. As the second and third pizzas arrive and again disappear in seconds, I simply giggle while getting Keith’s blessing in ordering a fourth. 

As we stroll up the dark uneven path back toward my apartment, my heart overflows with the warm glow of love. Several of the beautiful children eagerly grab my hands, tenderly sharing their hearts with mine. 

Bedtime for Babies 

As dinner is finally complete, the hour is already quite late – very late for the young children who are getting rather tired. A fire ceremony is still in the works, but a slumber party must first be organized. My spare bedroom quickly becomes the temporary home for two of the woman and the five young children. The two women who remain behind with the children reassure me that they will be quite comfortable occupying the two twin beds as the children excitedly stretch out on the comfy camping pads layered all over every available square inch of floor space. 

I cannot resist snapping a few quick photos. My early-morning desire for complete isolation is now replaced with sheer delight at having the honor of hosting such a beautiful family in my humble home. I briefly realize that to them, my tiny little apartment must appear to be a mansion – having indoor plumbing, a flush toilet, concrete floors, a refrigerator, and a small counter-top gas stove. I cannot help but give brief thanks for the blessings that I enjoy. 

A Fire to Remember 

Isaias has run ahead and made arrangements with our friend Terry to host the upcoming fire ceremony. Terry has a beautiful outdoor ceremonial area, one in which such traditional Mayan ceremonies are frequently held. She is delighted to accommodate our special guests. 

For the next two hours, one of the Mayan Priestesses leads us all through a deeply spiritual experience. As we sit around the sacred fire, this beautiful woman guides us in loving discussion and meditation – a beautiful experience that ends when the last flames of the fire flicker and fade, leaving only an orange-red glow of hot embers. 

Sleepless Joy 

Shortly after 11:30 p.m., my final two houseguests make themselves comfortable. The beautiful Mayan priestess sleeps on the daybed in my living room, while her younger brother squeezes himself onto a small uncomfortable couch. 

I giggle myself to sleep – loving the thought of sharing my home with such beautiful people. But alas, I sleep very lightly – not getting much actual sleep at all. The energy of others, combined with unfamiliar nighttime noises, has a way of keeping me ever so conscious. 

My World Is Shaking 

At 6:00 a.m. on Monday morning, a small 4.5 earthquake briefly shakes my bedroom. I giggle as I remember the much larger 5.7 quake that woke me just yesterday morning, during our final night at the Mystical Yoga Farm. 

“Two quakes in two days.” I ponder to myself. “It looks like the world as I know it is once-again being shaken up a little.” 

Grateful Goodbyes 

Monday morning is every bit as delightful. As the children slowly begin to stir, each of them amazes me with their gracious courtesy and gentle manners. An ear-to-ear grin consumes my face as these wonderful children take turns approaching me and lovingly wishing me “Buenos dias, Brenda.” 

Shortly after 8:00 a.m., the beautiful woman who led our ceremonial fire last night insists that she wants to go thank Terry yet again for letting us use her property. Soon, our entire group walks through the small paths of San Marcos over to Terry’s home where we enjoy a delightful gratitude-filled visit. 

My heart is again filled with warmth by the loving attention given to me by two of the older children. Throughout our walks around San Marcos, these beautiful young men carefully hold my hands, sharing their love and gentlemanly concern for my wellbeing.  

“I could get used to this.” I think to myself with a grin. 

A little later, Isaias’s lovely little wife brings over a deliciously-prepared traditional Mayan breakfast. I cannot help but giggle with delight as I cherish the privilege of participating in this special breakfast gathering of fifteen – an experience that includes Keith and a couple of other friends. 

As the beautiful family finally expresses their heart-felt goodbyes around 10:45 a.m., they quickly rush to catch boats and then buses that will take them back to their mountain home just a couple of hours away from Lake Atitlan. The children need to be in school by early afternoon. 

I am exhausted and drained as I hurry to clean up and prepare for two new roommates who will be arriving tomorrow. With minimal stress, I somehow manage to get everything accomplished just in time to wander over to Keith’s magical porch for a powerful afternoon ceremony. 

Moroni Revisited 

As the healing group gets underway, I am quite surprised when Keith immediately turns to me. 

“So, Brenda,” Keith queries, “up to what age were you when we stopped yesterday?” 

“I think I had reprocessed many of my emotions right up till around age fifteen.” I reply. 

Soon, Keith guides me to continue a process of imagining myself immersed in a loving protective bubble, built and maintained by the Angel Moroni. I am quite eager to continue forward. 

A Manifested Mirror 

Imagining this loving bubble around me, I again start to re-live old memories from a new perspective. It is a perspective of no longer feeling the excruciating emotional pain through which I passed, but instead imagining and feeling the influence of self-love guiding me through that same growth. 

No sooner do I begin this process when another gentleman in the group begins to emotionally fall apart, crying and demanding Keith’s attention. 

This beautiful man – a man whom I will call Serg (not his real name) – grew up in an eastern-block country during the middle of the last century. His life began late in the era of Joseph Stalin – a time when dissenting voices were not welcome – a time of structure, rational mind, and conformity – a time when dissenters and their families could literally end up being exiled to Siberia, or perhaps worse.  

When Serg was a young adult, he left his country and spent decades pursuing a Yogic path, connecting with great masters in places such as Tibet and India. His path has led him in a fascinating journey – a journey that has most recently resulted in several years of living in Guatemala.  

I have no doubt that Serg is exactly where I need him to be. He often reflects to me a powerful mirror of things that I continue to judge in myself – namely the struggles of being caught up in the structure and doubts of rational mind – the struggles of trying to push the river with conscious thought rather than simply following the flow of Higher Self. 

I often find it difficult to not project judgment onto that beautiful mirror called Serg. Today is no exception. I have begun to notice that whenever I go deeply into my own pain, Serg almost immediately does the same – as he is doing right now. 

Mine or His 

Reigning in my judgment, I let go of what I am doing and implicitly trust the interruption, trying to remind myself that everything on the porch is my creation. 

To my surprise, as I connect to what Serg is doing, I immediately begin to feel a strong pain in my solar plexus. 

“Is this my pain, or am I feeling Serg’s pain?” I briefly query Keith. 

During the past few months I have frequently experienced the emotional pain of others – literally feeling their pain inside of my own body – but I have not yet learned to distinguish whether what I am feeling is my own or theirs. My own emotional issues still cloud my perception. 

“The pain you feel belongs to both of you.” Keith responds unexpectedly. 

Keith goes on to explain that the process of shutting down my inner magic during my Mormon upbringing was very similar to the energetic shutdown that Serg went through both in his childhood and during his deeply spiritual Yogic path. 

“You both received the same type of psychic programming.” Keith continues. “You were trained to give up your self, your own inner magic, and to instead follow a system of someone else’s structured rules.” 

Return to Chaos 

“Brenda,” Keith quickly guides me, “connect to Serg’s energy and drop your protective bubble. Allow yourself to really feel what he is feeling.” 

Gradually, I begin to painfully experience an all-too-familiar sensation of energy chaos – this time more powerfully than I have ever felt it. I literally feel like an abused punching bag, with large iron fists of painful energy hitting me from the base of my belly to the middle of my heart chakra … pounding … pounding … and pounding. 

Slowly, the energy bombardment spreads into my high heart and then into the throat. As the pounding consumes my throat, I literally feel as if I am being choked – like something is squeezing in on my neck from both sides. 

No longer being capable of withstanding the intensity of the pain, I begin to sink into deep tears. Suddenly, another metaphor rages into my mind – that being an image of me hiding on a ravaged battle field with whistling mortar shells landing and exploding all around me. Each explosion literally shakes my entire body. 

I know I am experiencing all of this while connected to Serg’s energy, but I also know intuitively that everything applies one-hundred percent to me as well. 

An EVIL Magic 

“This is what you were told that spiritual love was all about.” Keith interrupts my painful process. “In the name of spiritual love, you received energetic programming that psychically disconnected you from your true self.” 

“It was like a horse being broken.” Keith continues. “You finally gave up after experiencing years of this chaotic bombardment – after years of being preached to, both verbally, energetically, and psychically.” 

Keith points out that at age three I was still deeply connected to the magical energies, but that those divine connections were completely and utterly invalidated by the beliefs that were lovingly-but-forcefully programmed into my mind. 

“You were literally made to believe that the inner magic you once felt and knew to be true was EVIL.” Keith continues with deep conviction. 

As I ponder my Mormon roots, I begin to recognize that my beliefs were deeply mystical. I was taught to believe that God and other beings do indeed communicate with people on the earth – that men could receive personal revelation and could even in certain circumstances channel divine messages for others (such as a Patriarchal Blessing). Worthy men even gave blessings to others, placing hands on their heads and sharing divine energy for the purpose of healing. 

But the one thing that was energetically pounded most forcefully into my mind is that there is an approved hierarchy of divine guidance and priesthood “magic” – that everything has to come through proper channels of ordained leadership. Satan searches for any and every opportunity to deceive even the elect of God with his counterfeit communications. If a person is not careful, they might receive guidance from the Devil himself. Yes any personal magic not sanctioned and blessed by the church as a whole was seen as deeply suspect, most likely originating from dark and evil sources. 

If I did indeed have an entire magical theme park in my head as a child (which I deeply believe to be true), my religious programming would absolutely have made me shut it down. If I had expressed that magic in any way, it would have been quickly, but lovingly reprimanded. Countless well-meaning and loving adults would have eagerly taught me that my childish fantasies were wrong and misguided, even EVIL. 

Keith’s words resonate profoundly in my heart. As I ponder the intense chaotic energies that even now bombard my body, I can only imagine that this is how I must have literally felt as an innocent child, trying to protect my magical truth from the unstoppable onslaught of adult programming and conditioning. 

All Consuming 

As I continue to feel the energies bombarding and strangling my life force, I soon feel the energy onslaught begin to pound on my forehead, mainly in the area of my third-eye chakra. Soon, I even feel the chaos-inducing energies bouncing around inside of my head, causing me to briefly bang my head on the wall behind me. 

Eventually, the bombardment of chaos spreads to my crown – as if fists are lightly pounding on the very top of my scalp. 

My entire body, from the base of my spine to the top of my head, now feels as if I am the object of energetic target practice for an entire class of black-belt martial arts students. 

As I ponder more deeply, continuing to feel the intense energies of chaos, I intuitively know that the bombardment initially began in my third eye and then spread to the rest of my body. It only makes sense that the home of my magical theme park would be the first and most obliterated target. 

I feel as if I have a thick wall of lead built right into the skull at the front of my forehead. 

Metaphorical Connections 

“Serg, bring in the light.” Keith guides my friend. “Ask it to show you the first place in your body that was blocked, and to show you how to open it.” 

As I imagine myself doing the same, my attention is suddenly drawn intuitively to my second chakra – the source of my sexual and creativity shutdown. As I ponder the discrepancy, I remember a metaphor that surfaced during a private session with Keith just a few weeks ago. In that session I had discovered a metaphorical diving platform at the base of my third-eye – and the target of the lake below was exactly at my second chakra.  

Yes, I have known for a while now that my third-eye shutdown is directly connected to the shutdown of my sexual and creativity energies. 

Autopilot Castle Walls 

As I meditate further, I suddenly feel as if a huge stone castle surrounds my entire skull. The thick rock walls are impenetrable, allowing absolutely no light to enter. 

The walls of this imaginary castle begin to feel physically heavy on my shoulders and neck – a weight that prevented me from speaking my truth through much of my life. 

For the next hour I play with this wall, engaging several metaphors. I imagine the wall transforming into nothing but a thin mesh, allowing the beautiful light and energetic breezes to easily penetrate, but still preventing the annoying mosquitoes from getting in. For some reason, I cannot yet completely remove the wall altogether – a small fear continues to dictate that I need some type of protection here. But hey, a layer of mosquito netting is way different from thick stone walls. 

Next, I imagine myself as being a bright shining light. I intuitively know that darkness cannot threaten a bright shining light, because anything dense and dark that is brought into the light simply becomes light itself. I love this new metaphor, recognizing that it entirely removes the concept of defense. I can simply be in my loving space, shining light, and nothing can touch or harm me. 

But the fearful puppy in me insists that another subconscious safety-net be put in place. Soon, I imagine an autopilot response, one that will detect my current state of “glow” – my current connection to the bright and shining light of love. When I am deeply engaged in this glow, the autopilot will lower all of my walls. When I get disconnected from the light, the walls will automatically rise to protect me. Eventually, as I learn to remain in the higher-vibration glow state, the walls will no longer be a part of my life. 

I know it is silly, but a frightened little puppy living somewhere inside of me insists on this temporary arrangement, still not fully convinced that it believes one of my favorite A Course In Miracles quotes, the title of workbook lesson 153: “In My Defenselessness My Safety Lies.” 

Where I Am 

In the process of this meditation, I feel a deep love for myself – an unconditional love that does not judge me for still maintaining a level of protective fear. I am deeply grateful for the flow of my healing path, for my ongoing realization that everything that I need continues to manifest in perfect order. 

“I am perfect right now.” I pat myself on the back. “I love myself for being exactly where I am., for being exactly where I need to be, for doing exactly the things I need to heal and grow, and for continuously heading toward higher-vibration states. What could be more perfect than that?” 

A Week In Review 

“Brenda,” Keith tells me after ceremony on Monday evening. “Congratulations on doing some deep and powerful work during this past week.” 

Keith reminds me that he has known many people, who after years of deep and powerful inner work, got so lost in their egos and God dramas that they literally began to project all over the place, being unable and unwilling to finish their training.  

“Thank you so much Keith.” I respond with a glow in my heart. “It must have taken a lot of courage for you to follow your guidance so beautifully. Even when I began to suffer and to project all over you, you stood firm, having the courage to do what needed to be done, knowing that it was entirely possible that I too may walk away and never come back.” 

“And I did walk away.” I giggle from my heart. “But not for long … I came back … I am so determined to continue down my path. Nothing can stop me.” 

“But Keith,” I add in all seriousness. “If I had not built up such an unconditional and unwavering trust in you over the past eight months, I honestly believe that I would have walked away last Monday. Every part of ego demanded that I bolt and run, but my heart lovingly radiated ‘STAY’.” 

I am so grateful that I did stay, and I cannot wait to see where continued steps lead. 

Adventurous Travels

After writing all morning, Tuesday, March 29 turns into an amazing and memorable day. First, at 1:30 p.m., my new roommate, Skye, shows up with her friend Joy. They had met while traveling in Nicaragua. As you may recall, Skye is the beautiful younger sister to my dear friend and former roommate Rae. She set out on her own adventures at the beginning of February, and is just now returning to San Marcos, with plans to stay for another few weeks. 

But there is no time to talk – talking will simply have to wait. Another amazing adventure is in the works. 

By 3:00 p.m., seven of us (including Skye and Joy) rendezvous at my house. Soon we are rushing off, crowded into two tiny tuk-tuks headed for the nearby town of San Pablo. Next we climb into the back of a bumpy old pickup truck and begin an open-air ride, climbing over the beautiful rugged peaks that tower above San Marcos and Lake Atitlan below. The view from the back of the pickup truck is spectacular – but I am deeply grateful for a warm sweatshirt and a very sturdy metal railing around which I can securely wrap my arms. The final leg of our public transportation leaves the seven of us squeezed into a small fifteen passenger van. Around 28 people begin this cramped journey together. I just love Guatemala. 

Finally, around 4:45 p.m. we reach our destination. It is a stretch of open highway where we hope to soon meet Keith and a friend, both of whom spent the day in Xela. Keith should be driving by in his little Toyota truck quite soon. The seven of us will crowd into the shell-covered back of the truck for the final leg of our adventure. 

Eventually we arrive at a little village high up in the mountains – the very same little village that several of us visited in January – the beautiful little home of the Mayan Priestesses (shamans) and their wonderful family. By special request, they have agreed to do yet another wonderful fire ceremony for us. 

Cultural Exploration 

To think I almost didn’t go! How could I possibly have thought about missing such an amazing evening? 

The family provides us with honor and loving hospitality, almost immediately serving us an early evening snack – delicious bowls of some type of soup made from a local type of squash. To my surprise, my very picky pallet is quite pleased. I actually enjoy the mystery dish. 

I am doubly delighted by the opportunity to further play with the children – and they seem to have as much fun with me. I giggle when one of them gets the courage to ask me some very personal questions. 

“So women in your culture can wear pants?” The darling little boy asks so innocently. “And you can paint your toes too?” 

In his own beautiful existence, living high up in the Guatemalan mountains, all of the women and girls that he knows wear only beautiful and colorful skirts, or cortes (CORE-tays) as they call them in Spanish. 

Beyond Expectations 

The two women put on another memorable ceremony. Due to the lateness of the hour, they build the fire right in their yard, on top an old metal disk, just next to the wooden shed where the women’s father builds beautiful marimbas. 

For nearly two hours, we bask in the spiritual glow of meditative energies. Some of the ceremony is performed in Spanish and translated to English – but much of the speaking is done in the local Mayan dialect – leaving most of us to only guess and feel the words that are being spoken. But the energy of the ceremony is clear. It is one of deep high-vibration love, joining cultures and beliefs together with common bonds of beautiful unconditional love. 

Then again, my favorite part of the ceremony is sitting between several of the young children, having them hold my hands and occasionally lean on me. Have I said yet that I love these darling children? 

To our surprise, as the fire finally fades to an orange glow, we unexpectedly learn that our evening is not yet over. These two amazing women soon guide us back into the kitchen where their mother has prepared a delicious chicken soup for the whole family, including us. 

The late-night mountain air is quite chilly as we finally squeeze back into the rear compartment of Keith’s little truck. As I finally slip onto my soft and comfy pillow, sometime around 12:45 a.m., I am exhausted but overjoyed and overflowing with love. 

The last couple of days have brought one amazing adventure after another. I love that my deep journey into the chaotic energies of childhood programming was so beautifully squeezed right into the middle of an incredible cultural sandwich. 

Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved