I woke up in a fog– a fog of overthinking something I have overthought for such a vast time period that for most would seem unnecessary. For me, it’s always dwelling on the intense original life purpose I have energetically paved for myself to the extremity of falling into a black hole after the of not taking action upon my own intuition in perfect timing last year. It’s had many pitfalls, and has become my best method of self-sabotage. For the past two years, I haven’t been able to discern whether I’ve been grieving my self-proclaimed life purpose, a person, or an idea of a person. Having conversed with Spirit in writing the night before, I asked for guidance into a more positive current situation that would bring about clarity. Perhaps rather something more along the flow of the current that would get me out of my head.
I had almost forgotten about that intention when I headed out to Natural Grocers in search of a yoga mat and some fruit. My yoga mat was a torn-out disaster, and I really needed to do some yoga. I had the fortune of running into a friend who told me she’d give me a new yoga mat for free… which, of course, was a divine opportunity I couldn’t easily pass up. When I got in line, I noticed that a friend I knew from yoga and repeatedly crossing paths –for the past nine or so months– was behind me. I told her about my recent dog-sitting gig, to which she responded,
“I could use you for dog sitting, because I’m going to Mexico to swim in some cénotes and maybe find some traditional healers to talk with,” she paused in optimistic contemplation, “Unless you want to come with me.”
So despite the wildly painful overthinking that has been my habit for so long, I booked the ticket to Cancún the next day with little hesitation. I tried to ignore the slight anxieties I held about losing possessions during flights to foreign countries, and just trust that it would be a good, smooth experience. As it would happen, we were both sending intentions of a smooth trip into our journey while conversing with angels, and so that’s exactly how it transpired.
I packed very few possessions with me; the bare minimum of clothes that would get me through the four days of our journey. I began to become aware of the pattern of following my breath, and really breathing. I’d recently come to the awareness that I hadn’t actually been doing this… and that this has been the main source of obstacles that I have experienced throughout life. Taking away months and years of true fulfillment. In order to regain this lost sense of self, I was going to need to actually start breathing from the depths of my heart and soul… and it isn’t easy, because this brings up various instances in which I must, time after time, come to terms with my Truth and how that truth is working out in this lifetime. I was coming to know that Life listened to me so long as I was nurturing my own Spirit with breath.
We sat in the airport eating fruit and drinking coffee at five a.m., having a spiritually fulfilling conversation. I was so grateful and amazed that of all people, having planned this less than a month in advance, I would be joining Sadie on the venture to Valladolid and Tulúm, Yucatan, Mexico. It’s only been a destined prophecy for me to return to this sacred, ancient land which feels so much like a second home to me since visiting a traditional Mayan village a few years ago on a college study abroad for six weeks. In this study abroad course, I apprenticed with a Mayan herbalist and also gathered data from multiple other shamans on the Peninsula. My project at the time seemed so extensive that I knew eventually I’d have to come back to further my passion of studying and practicing plant medicine. Jungle plants are really the most intriguing of all medicines.
When I found my seat in the airplane, my seatmate was getting up to switch seats with another woman. The woman who sat down next to me in the center seat was relatively familiar looking, and we instantly connected. She was also a blogger and began telling me the themes of the entries on her blog… which were all coincidentally in alignment with my recent experiences and current process of life. The one she explained most in detail was the one on grief– not necessarily the death of a person, but rather the death of an idea of some significant life purpose one may have an attachment to, so now must find an alternative life purpose. Our next seatmate who entered was tall, gangly and handsome and he was also a blogger. We told our stories of synchronicity and unity, finding meaning beyond coincidence in human interactions. Our conversation was loud and bright, overcasting all other sleeping passengers on flight 71. When we were served plastic cups of water, I made a toast to synchronicity.
The familiar yet exotic aura of Valladolid was comforting and enticing as Sadie and I entered it in the rental car. Even the scent of this traditional Mayan city warmed my heart and comforted my soul. We navigated the series of one-way roads towards the hotel, which was a magical cove of jungle plants and antique brick walls painted in ancient Mayan-Mexican styles. Shortly after arriving, we walked the village streets towards downtown, asking for directions from other visitors in Spanish. However, we quickly noticed that those visitors were the only other tourists to be seen.
To be among the Valladolid villagers and immersed in this culture with Yucatecan aromas steaming from every other door we walked past is a beautiful thing. To take in this culture fully without the extra perceptions of any other foreigner is to take it in clearly in a new sense that nobody has yet discovered. Like first impressions: to be looked upon for the first time without hindrance of a third party is to see clearly. To smell clearly, and to think clearly.
An exuberant energy vibrated from every carefree child and into the air of the Plaza, which reflected any other Yucatecan Plaza with their historic fountain centerpieces and white-stone loveseats along the edges; tall shadowy trees, and the enchanting sound of the Spanish and Mayan languages escalating in laughter. We ate at a traditional Yucatecan open-air restaurant with neon colored lights penetrating the dark evening air. In any Yucatecan meal, I most look forward to the homemade cornflour tortillas hopefully cooked on limestone (“kal”), and so was delighted to have an entire stack of them sitting in front of me covered in a creatively patterned hand-woven basket.
After sleeping in a beautiful silky hammock which I swore somehow changed colors from yellow to pink overnight, I awoke to roosters reminding me of the sacredness and the calm of which I was simply a part of being in this foreign land. Breakfast was the finest and simplest of foods: fresh fruit and fresh bread with local coffee, black.
We walked around town for a few minutes in the morning sunshine upon which everything seemed to dazzle and everyone seemed to be so content, so simple. Though work for the artisans daily in their shops is not so simple as they would have it seem, each shop owner at every storefront was beaming a smile of welcome. There were women setting up a market on the sidewalk full of vivid vegetables and fruits; the girl offered me half an orange which I gratefully savored. Sharing flavors of the culture.
We set out in search of some cénotes after collecting some directions from the hotel on which ones might be best. Tunneling down the roads outlined with jungle trees was such a restoration to the soul… bringing greenery and refinement to all its hidden aspects, as jungles of Mexico always have a tendency to do. Descending down the steps into the cave, it was a cool and mystic atmosphere. We were the only two swimmers in the large cenote, granting us freedom for spiritual and physical healing in the magical, deep waters. Catfish occasionally could be spotted. Birds fluttered in and out of crevices within the stone walls. I spent time floating, reflecting in one specific pool illuminated by strong rays of sunlight, making visible the depth of the cenote. I asked for a clear answer, and as I emerged out into the hotness and newfound clarity of the day, a multitude of butterflies in varieties of different colors fluttered around my face.
There is only one other natural resource, in my opinion, that has more healing power than a cenote– and that is the Ocean. Before arriving in Tulum, we made a stop at the ruins in Coba. I was reminded of my song I started writing, in Spanish, the last time I had been in Yucatan. We sat on a log and connected with the roots of this land, the ancient mysticism of the Mayans and secrets of the Sun which they held. I purchased a hand-woven dreamcatcher with an owl woven within the center. Just being present here, I could sense the humidity of the Ocean and the mysteries of the Mayans pulling me in further to their homeland.
As we drove into the village of Tulum with the windows rolled down, the air was vibrant with exuberance and joy that only a special place such as this would exhibit– something particularly magical about the warm, clear waters of this coast. We settled into the cabana loft with shimmering dark wooden floors. Next, we walked through the village radiating with love and humidity, a shimmering happiness that could only be found on a coast such as this one… the street signs displayed messages in segments: “If not now…” “When?” Though it was a touristy atmosphere, everyone seemed perfectly content. Exiting the car, we made our way to the beach and walked on the sand to the cabana loft.
I pulled out a book to read on the beach for the first night, but soon couldn’t contain the urge to run along the coast. I started out running, inhaling deeply the warm, humid, salty air. This was my first trip to the beach in nine years, and to be near the water felt so liberating to the soul. I paused occasionally to step into the water and allow the waves to wash over me, cleansing my heart and mind. I sent out healing intentions through the palms of my hand, directed into the ocean to be washed up on every other shore in all directions. I ran all the way to the opposite side of the coast, to which I couldn’t count the number of miles and instead was only blinded by the sunshine shimmering across my skin. I observed all the people who were laying out along the beach, soaking in the vastness of this sea and sky.
The full moon on the last night was radiant and shone upon the dark waves of ocean. Along with the sound of a wedding DJ playing rock ‘n’ roll tunes and the aromas of the finest seafood in the near distance, the atmosphere was magical and inspirational. The intentions I had cast were now pouring into my own being and radiating along the atmosphere of all other beings. I was absorbing the beauty and magic of this land as it was absorbing me. This was the most peaceful setting on such a full moon… one in which I could remember myself and forget all other false perceptions, especially while swinging on a wooden swing overlooking the ocean.
I was carried back from this ancient, tropical land with a state of clarity and renewal; a sense of strength obtained from the ocean. My normally constricted nasal passages were suddenly clear, and I could breathe life in to such a greater state of fullness. I stared out into the morning waves of the ocean for awhile before departure. I awaited the newer, much clearer state of living that I was about to enter upon returning to the Colorado snow. I remember striking up conversation with two elderly passengers who resembled family members of mine on the shuttle back from the airport. We talked about living in the area and found we had some mutual connections in the music community and also commonalities in areas of living. The energy upon arrival was evident that life was changing for us in positive ways– big ways.
I reminisced about the sun and the people I encountered during this journey, and would reflect on bringing that energy into the everchanging, sometimes terrifying, uncertainties in my life to move forward with, despite the “grief” of my missing piece of my life purpose that I somehow felt motivated to restore… no matter the cost. I am an octopus with multiple paths in front of me out of not simply seeing the way out of my own dark hole I’ve been digging. Valladolid and Tulum were quick sources to the light of connection and simplicity of living. Who else knows one to be afraid of living large? Is it the fear of uncertainty we are dealt with, or the fear of being free and bold?