Durante mi Viaje

Clouds in the sky over Cholula

No, my heart is not asleep

It is awake, wide awake,

not asleep or dreaming.

Its eyes are open wide

watching distant signals,

listening on the banks

of a vast silence.

      --Antonio Machado

For the past few days I've been in in Cholula and Puebla and I have had time to reflect on the experience of travel, and particularly on traveling alone. 

I have had no classes or meetings with friends while I've been here. I have been staying in the home of Martin, a 29-year old Frenchman, a perfectly nice fellow. 

I've been dealing with the inconvenient fact that I cannot figure out how to unlock his front door, either to get in or out, which means I had to rely upon him to be present. 

Soon it will be in the past, as I am leaving tomorrow morning for Oaxaca.

There seems to be a theme operating though.  I had come to Cholula in the hope of connecting with a particular Dharma community here. That never happened, though I did spend an evening with another group who are students of Mingyur Rinpoche. They were friendly people and the group felt harmonious and warm. I'm glad I had a chance to spend a few hours meditating and talking Dharma with them.

Traveling alone is just like living alone, but it does have an additional challenge, the challenge of being in new places, with new people, new foods and new customs-- and perhaps not knowing the country's language at all, or barely.  One lacks the comfort afforded by familiar places and people.

A beautiful old building in Guanajuato's Presa neighborhood

Of course, that is part of the allure of travel. As science fiction writer Ray Bradbury quipped. “Half the fun of the travel is the esthetic of lostness.” 

Yes, the esthetic of lostness is a good way to place some of the feelings that arise when traveling.

The Observer, the Outsider and the Sense of Belonging

Upstairs walkway in the Museo Amparo in Puebla

Wherever you go, there you are. That never changes.  So of course habitual patterns, perceptions, choices and responses just keep on popping up. I find that  being in unfamiliar places affords me a lot of good compost for tilling the fields. In my journey, I am an observer, and I sometimes feel as if I am an outsider. I am an outsider, a foreigner. I am a visitor from some other place and way of life. 

At the same time, I notice that I have an innate sense of belonging and that when I open up into feeling comfortable and at home in that way, it feels good. I spent many years feeling alienated and for me that is no longer so useful. 

I am at home when I relax into being right here in my body/mind, and all the concepts about being a foreigner and outsider just kind of melt away.

Traveling alone gives a great deal of opportunity for practising openness, maintaining vigilance, and breaking through language barriers with body language, smiles and positive intention.

The view from the roof of another Puebla museum

The well known travel author Pico Iyer writes, "Travel has woken me up, in many ways. It's taught me how provincial I and my assumptions are. It's expanded my sense of what is possible among human beings and in terms of human kindness (and at times its opposite). And it has shown me a whole other way to live, without a steady prop, not hemmed in by familiarity, and living according to the principles and challenges I most respect."

A church in Cholula

 Not hemmed in by familiarity...without a steady prop....these are things I think about as I move from one place to another in Mexico.

 I have a steady prop, but it is not the steady prop of familiar surroundings, friends and routine. It is internal, a sense of interconnectedness, belonging and peacefulness within.

I have learned things about myself since I set out. In some online conversation with friends, I realized that my sense of adventure takes the form of curiosity about art, culture, history, healing,  mysticism, architecture, agriculture, clothing and food.

Wherever you go, there you are.



I am going to be sorry to leave Cholula mainly because I have grown fond of eating at Koatlique Pachamama, a tiny restaurant that serves wonderfully good food and pulque, an ancient alcoholic

One of the folks at Koatlique Pachamama

beverage made from the maguey plant. A fellow who came to cut Martin's hair one day urged me to go there and to try to pulque and the food.

I really dislike eating at overpriced tourist places, and I thought I should check this place out. I am so glad I did.

The food is marvelous, very inexpensive and very fresh, healthy and traditional. The pulque comes in three forms. I chose natural, which seemed to have a low alcohol content. There is the distilado form, which they told me is like tequila.

That natural pulque is delicious--cloudy white, a bit foamy, a bit sour and sweet. It feels very good to drink it.  It has been used since ancient times for many maladies, and once was drunk only by leaders, elders, pregnant women or ill people.

When beer became popular here, pulque production dropped, but now some younger people are devoting themselves  to making it again.

A hillside near the big cathedral in Cholula

Cholula is famous for The Great Pyramid, the largest pyramid in the New World, over which the Spanish built an immense cathedral. There is also a volcano in the area, and every day I saw the smoke rising from it.

I am leaving tomorrow morning for Oaxaca, a day earlier than I had planned, because there is a national strike that is supposed to happen on Monday, December 1st. If so, it will probably close the roads in and out of Oaxaca. My bus trip from Guanajuato to Puebla was very comfortable, and I imagine this upcoming bus trip will be, too. Mexico is famous for its excellent bus service between cities.

I am being cured of the museum deprivation I experienced living in southern Oregon! I went to two wonderful museums in Guanajuato and since I arrived in this area I have been to four museums, two in Puebla and two in Cholula. The Puebla museums are housed in incredible old edifices from the eighteenth century.

It was Thanksgiving day when I visited Puebla, and I had a festive meal at an elegant restaurant next to the Museo Amparo. The food was delicious and beautifully presented. The Big Kahuna and two of his friends were at the next table, which was entertaining. There was an incredibly handsome waiter. Pink walls. Beautiful plants. A fountain.

Thankful.

A Visit to La Gruta Spa and San Miguel de Allende

One of the thermal pools at La Gruta

A group of us who study Spanish at La Escuela Falcon went on an outing with Alberto, one of the school's teachers. Alberto is very sympatico and it was fun to have him as our guide. We drove about 1.5 hours through a landscape of rolling hills ornamented with cactus, passing through a couple of small towns along the way.

Our first stop was La Gruta Spa. La Gruta Spa is one of four hot springs in the Guanajuato region, and it is the one closest to the city of Guanajuato. It's a beautiful, tranquil place with many trees and flowers, and of course, the hot water. I am a dedicated lover of thermal springs and I could have stayed at La Gruta all afternoon, but was happy to be able to relax there for an hour and a half.

La Gruta has three outdoor pools fed by thermal hot springs. The hottest of the three is accessed down a long (well-lit) stone tunnel of water . Once you have floated or walked down the tunnel, you find yourself in a dome shaped cave with water dripping from the stone ceiling.

Ginny, Klaus and I tried out three of the pools and the tunnel. The tunnel was quite a mysterious experience, and the dome at its end is dark and womblike. Very relaxing to be in that hot water in the dark. I would love to return there before I leave Guanajuato, but if I do not have another chance to enjoy La Gruta, I will look forward to visiting some hot springs near Oaxaca soon.

Ginny and Marsha

Ginny and her father Brian are in my class at Escuela Falcon. They are both great people and they also have a wonderful relationship with each other,  so I was looking forward to meeting the mama of the family. On the day of our outing, Brian stayed at home with their four toy poodles, and Marsha came on the outing with Ginny. As I suspected, I enjoyed being with Marsha as much as I enjoy being with Brian and Ginny.

They live in Arcata, California and are traveling in Mexico for a couple of months. I recognize fellow bohemian types of people when I see them!

Yes indeed I do. They are an artistic, can-do family of people who make beautiful things, (they have fixed up and sold many houses), have horses and dogs and enjoy the extended family style of living. Oh, and everything is leavened with a good sense of humor.

Lunch at El Pegaso in San Miguel

Klaus suggested we eat at El Pegaso, one of four restaurants that Alberto recommended. It was a good choice. I just had fish tacos, which are not a remarkable way to discover how good a Mexican restaurant is, but I enjoyed them and the company of the group.

Alberto makes a call, Marsha and Klaus talk and Ginny smiles

We didn't spend enough time in San Miguel for me to make definitive comments, but I did notice these differences between Guanajuato and San Miguel.

It is more elegant and upscale in San Miguel than in Guanajuato and it appeals to stylish Mexicans as well as to gringos. There are many beautiful antique shops, art galleries and clothing shops, all of which carry goods that are much more chic and expensive than those found in Guanajuato.

Alberto took us to a wonderful chocolate shop, which produces marvelous truffles and ice cream that is also quite delicious. I have seen nothing of this sort in Guanajuato, where the dulcerias sport delicious, but much more traditionally Mexican, types of sweets such as candied squash (marvelous), and others whose names and tastes I have not yet been introduced to.

San Miguel has a large gringo population. Around 20,000 American and Canadian expats live there.   The presence of so many gringos influences the tone of the town. Waiters and store owners speak English as a matter of course. Not so in Guanajuato. And the gringo influx has driven prices up, so that it is said that things cost twice as much there. Certainly housing does.

While we sat chatting and enjoying our lunch, a very fancy wedding party passed our window. A band in full costume was followed by the bride and groom and then by their friends and family.

Looking at the scene, Alberto commented, "That is a special wedding of rich people."

I certainly enjoyed my brief visit to the town, which is lovely. I decided to stay in Guanajuato for a month rather than in San Miguel because I knew Guanajuato would be less expensive and more authentically Mexican. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy spending a bit of time in San Miguel, among its wonderful arts and crafts, foods and clothing. Perhaps in the future, perhaps not.

San Miguel has many old doors made of fine wood and ornamented by small hands and other decorative objects that serve as handles or knockers.


La Aurora 

It's too bad that our visit to La Fabrica La Aurora happened at the end of the day when we were tired from the thermal springs as well as walking in the streets and the mercado.

La Aurora  is one of San Miguel's most unique destinations, a beautiful art and design center housed what was a textile factory at the turn of the century. Before its renaissance as an art and design center, Negociacion Fabril de la Aurora, known as La Aurora, was a leading manufacturer of premium cotton "manta" and textiles for almost a hundred years.

I loved this flood of white paper flowers overhead

Like the hot springs and the downtown area of San Miguel, La Aurora is a place to which one could devote more time than we had that day.

Many paintings, much sculpture, beautiful crafts, ceramic flowerpots, and much more. Too tired to really give it the appreciation it deserves.

Marsha and Ginny said that they would return with Brian and Ginny's friend, who will visit soon.

 What a beautiful day.

It was dark when we got back to Guanajuato. I was the last one to be dropped off. The relaxed, kind Alberto drove me all the way up the hill to Lucy's. I was grateful because I was quite weary and the idea of slogging up the steep hill in the dark was not appealing.
 
Today, I decided to rest before plunging into my third week of Spanish studies at the school.

I took a walk on the Panoramica in the morning, then went food shopping to the Mega in a taxi with Lucy.  I had some lunch and actually took a siesta. It was a quiet afternoon.

Marsha at La Aurora

There have been other visitors at Lucy's in the past few days: a businessman from San Francisco who stayed for one night, a couple from Frankfort who left this morning and a musician/lecturer from Russia who is here until tomorrow.

Tonight others are rumored to be about to arrive for one night, though Lucy is acting as if they may or may not show up. Something about a family with a bunch of kids. I am instructed to move my bath items into the downstairs bathroom, which I can have to myself.

We are having classes tomorrow even though tomorrow is a national holiday--Revolution Day. I imagine it could be something like the 4th of July, Mexican style. Two big holidays in one month!

As they have said, the wise ones, "Where ever you go, there you are."  And it's true, here I am. What I notice when I look in the mirror is that I have aged in the past few months. Either that, or I simply have not been paying attention. More wrinkles, more sagging skin.

I am not complaining. I am noticing. One thing I love about Mexico is the way aging is accepted as a natural part of life. The desperate attempt to look young is not the main music here. And old people are treated with respect. What a relief.

As for the upcoming holiday, more news in the next post.

Hasta luego...que te vaya bien.

Entertaining the Possibility

The Possible's slow fuse is lit
By the Imagination.
--Emily Dickinson

I'm having lunch today with a man in his 90s. He directed several plays in town over the past few years. The only other thing I know about him is that he has a courtly email style. I wrote to him recently to tell him about my musical play A New Wrinkle. "I cannot let this bold query go unanswered!" he replied. That was a good beginning, and I am looking forward to meeting him.

I am meeting many new people these days. On February 15th, composer Laura Rich and I will do the first run-through of songs in the play with the help of 4 singers and a pianist--I haven't met any of them. I put a call out for singers via two local choirs, and people responded. One thing I have found moving lately (I have a long list) is how enthused some people are about helping with A New Wrinkle, even though they know virtually nothing about it.

It's encouraging to be met with enthusiasm and support. I put out two fundraising appeals via my email list and through Elderwomanspace, an Internet community I belong to, and donations have been arriving in my Sage's Play post office box. Sometimes people tell me they admire me or thank me for asking for what I want or need. They send little love notes and messages of support. It's pretty darn wonderful. It warms me up and provides some funding to move forward. I have to look at writing grants soon, too.

I posted the image of the beautiful flowering meadow here because it nourishes me on this early February morning. Ahh, the green, the flowers, the warm, warm sun. I am not planning any outer travel at the moment, so this meadow is an imagination vacation.

Lately, I've had many opportunities to reflect about how what we believe possible is conditioned or limited by our perception and belief. Like when the big ship arrived and the indigenous inhabitants of that place simply did not see it because that ship was outside of their idea of what was possible. Which brought me back last week to "It's nothing that a month in Greece wouldn't cure" a statement often repeated during my second marriage.

When the thought came back to me again, I had to laugh. I'm not saying that I have to go to Greece for a month just because I thought of it, but I am saying it is possible.
It is possible I will go to Greece for a month. That makes me grin.

I am looking for any other big ships that have sailed into the harbor without me seeing them, and checking into the possibilities they hold. Last thing this morning--an appreciative thank you to all the helpful people and allies who have been appearing and who will appear. I welcome your presence and activity in my life.

Call Back the Sun

Ashland, Oregon--a small town with a lot of artists of all kinds. Sometimes it seems to me that our town's population is mainly composed of artists, healers and real estate agents plus those who aspire to being artists, healers and real estate agents. That's my little Ashland joke.

The dance community in Ashland is quite large and varied. Dancing People Company magnetized many dancers and a big audience of dance lovers last night for its 4th annual "Call Back the Sun" Solstice celebration.

First, I will say that I could not find any reviews of Dancing People Company performances. This proves I live in a small town, even if it is pretty saturated with all manner of art and artists. No proper dance reviewer in sight. (if there are any reviews hiding somewhere, I would like to read them to see what others have to say.) Second, I will advise that I am no dance critic. I am also rather reticent to discuss wine's finer qualities though I do know good wine when I taste it.

The performance began with the room completely darkened. Dancers appeared one by one, illuminated only by the candle each carried. They moved slowly through the space. More dancers appeared, and together their movements conjured up a mythic, ancient rite. I was mesmerized, enchanted. My heart was moved; the audience/performer boundary was erased.

In dance, things move fast. It's not like looking at a painting or reading a book. What a no-brainer, you may be thinking, but bear with me, I am not a dance reviewer. Watching dance is more like watching a football game, except that nobody is doing video replays of what just happened so the mind and emotions reel as ecstatic gestures and movements cascade through eyes, brain and heart minute after minute. You want to stop just for that particular gesture or jumble or leap, but you cannot. It's already gone.

Of course the sheer physical power and grace, that beauty, was astounding at times. The leaps, raises, balancing, catches, such evocations of flight, lightness, power, freedom and trust, such vulnerability were at times completely breathtaking.

The performance included aerial dancing too. It was stunning. To watch those beautiful beings suspended in mid air, curling and uncurling like flowers, revealing all their strength, delicacy and skill, well what can I say except Hallelujah! Bravo brothers and sisters! You filled my heart. All of our hearts are full.

Mythic, primal, Dionysian/erotic, lyrical, powerful. Somebody write a proper review of these folks, please! The musicians were wonderful, too.
________________________

Photo by Hennie Van Heerden,the Netherlands, via Flickr

Art and the Deep Song

"The artist appeals to that part of our being... which is a gift and not an acquisition, and therefore more permanently enduring."--Joseph Conrad

On a gray autumn morning, with the trees gold and red outside the windows, I'm thinking about the gift of art, its heightened gestures and how it connects us to the deep song, the song of our heart, our essential self.

Art whether in the form of dance, music, singing, poetry, literature, painting, sculpture, film, theater gives us a way to move out beyond static, habitual perception and experience.

Suddenly we find ourselves in the midst of some kind of astounding beauty, heartbreaking in its immediacy and fullness, and it's vibrating, cascading, pouring through us in the stillness of our focused attention.

What rites of passage, nourishment and initiation art proffers, what gifts it brings. This is certainly as true for the artistic process as it is for experiencing the finished work. Creating art reveals you to yourself.

When I was a child, I took incredible delight in reading the dictionary. On any page, some words stood out more than others. I was attracted to those words; they opened up beautiful worlds of feeling, color and meaning. And then I discovered something that seemed even more magical-- from those disparate, exotic, tasty, brilliant, moving words I could create, through some type of magnetism, concentration and ecstatic discovery, whole streams of words that formed a poem and told a story.

Creating art occupies me with the same sense of delight and discovery many decades later. It presents beautiful challenges and allows me to share myself with others in ways that so-called ordinary life does not always afford.

When I was in my early 50s it began to dawn on me that if I lived long enough I would grow old. Then I noticed the vitality of older artists--among them dancers, painters, blues singers, classical musicians. It's beautiful--and it makes sense not to retire when you are so richly immersed in what you love to do, and what brings such joy to others.

That's something to pay attention to, I told myself. Pay attention to the vivid links between creativity and well-being; pay attention to the generous nourishment and rejuvenation that art provides. Pay attention to the joy of offering up the deep song.