The warm morning sun is less than two hours old, still low in the horizon of the cloudless blue skies. Black birds squawk all around me. Three proud pigeons coo and strut by, anxiously hoping for a few crumbs from a generous stranger. A refreshingly cool, yet muggy, breeze wafts gently against my face, bringing with it the faint salty scent of turquoise ocean waters.
Reddish-orange flowers glow brilliantly atop the surrounding canopy of beautiful trees. New growth of tender light-green leaves seems to burst forth everywhere on the underside of my favorite shade tree. As I begin writing, a small yellow leaf falls from above and lands in the middle of my keyboard.
Surrounding shopkeepers are beginning to set up their treasures on the streets. An elderly groundskeeper—a sweet kind man who tediously sweeps leaves, berries, and flower petals around the plaza—glances my way and smiles, giving me a little wave. Passers-by are beginning to stroll through the awakening streets. A magical new day is beginning.
Source of Magic
As I lay on my pillow last night, a long-forgotten feeling surfaced in my desires. “Go up on the roof.” The thoughts begin. “It is time for you to return to the world of magic.”
Taking my yoga mat with me, barefoot in my pajamas, I wind my way up my narrow spiral staircase to the open-air panorama above.
A large part of me resists—the pragmatic tired voices that whisper, “I’m tired … I need my sleep … this is silly … this is a waste of time.”
Placing my thin rubbery mat on a small incline, I soon find myself flat on my back, staring up at twinkling stars dancing in the black sky above. A feeling of wondrous energy begins to flow through my spine as I start to ponder, “How long has it been since I was up here?”
“Too long,” the answer reverberates through my brain, as I realize that I honestly cannot remember the last time.
My thoughts drift back to late June—my early weeks in Cozumel. In those first several weeks, this isolated rooftop became a wondrous playground of spiritual connection. Magical and mystical glowing clouds used to drift by as I thrived on the energy of Qi Gong breathing exercises prior to retiring every night. Spectacular and energetic sunrises called to me nearly every morning, recharging me before each new day.
As I stare at the amazing sky, as if for the first time, I ponder the mysteries of the universe. Soon, as I lose myself in the skies above, a series of magical and mystical, glowing clouds drift by—the first I have seen in a very long time.
“Where did all the magic go?” I ponder. “When did all of this incredible beauty begin to slip away into a world of taken-for-granted mediocrity?”
The answer begins to flow, “The magic never left me … It was I who left the magic.”
The insights continue, “This sense of powerful aliveness is not an external event. This wondrous delight originates within my very soul—but only when I choose to immerse myself in the present moment.”
“But why do I so easily and seemingly so subconsciously abandon this magic?” I ask.
I realize that somewhere along the way, my mind began to classify these beautiful encounters as “Been there … Done that.”
As these experiences subtly move from a state of being “Unknown” into the realm of the “Known and Categorized,” my brain circuits begin to casually define them with a mere label before stuffing them into a small file and storing them away in a quiet corner of my memories. Later, as these memories get triggered, my brain says “I already know this one.”
As if on autopilot, my brain simply continues on its way, the still wondrous and magical events go largely unnoticed, completely unfelt.
The thought seems so obvious: “When I think I already know something, my curiosity fades away, my interest wanders.”
“Could it be that the secret to magic lies in the not knowing?”
Communication Foibles
Over the last few months, the confusing nature of language has become increasingly obvious in my experience. Struggling with new words and ways of speaking has caused me to ponder a great deal.
The words we use every day, the things we say to each other, are nothing more than symbols and labels for things we think that we know. In and of themselves, the words are nothing but randomly organized sounds. Everyone who uses the same words implicitly agrees as to their meaning—yet none of us ever know for sure how the word might be interpreted by others.
When I say the words “pine tree” a mental image appears in my mind, reminding me of past personal encounters with such natural wonders. However, a different person who hears these same two words will most certainly visualize slightly different images, based on different past experiences—perhaps quite different from my own.
As useful and critical as language can be in our daily lives, it also gets in the way of true communication—true experiencing. The shorthand nature of words reduces every person, animal, tree, plant, sky, object, action, emotion, thought, or feeling to a simplified and inadequate set of labels that can never do justice to personal experience.
Once I have reduced something such as a beautiful flower to a few descriptive words, I tend to overlook the flower itself. The words I use to describe the flower get stored away in my brain under the label “flower”. Whenever I see another flower, or hear someone talking about a flower, my mind immediately retrieves my old stored memory file.
Using this past stored knowledge, I dismiss the present-day flower as a known entity, and tend to not even pay attention to its beautiful details.
The only way I can truly experience a flower is in the present moment—throwing out all language concepts –simply observing, smelling, touching, feeling.
Yes, “presuming to know something” does indeed reduce the aliveness and magic from my experience—and language plays a major part in “thinking that I know.”
Gratitude fills my heart for the struggles I have experienced in attempting to communicate using Spanish. With severely limited verbal language skills, I have begun to experience a new way to communicate and to perceive—a way that involves not only the other senses, but which also involves my heart.
Return of the Bees
Somewhere along the way, I got busy.
My first two months in Cozumel were largely unstructured, devoid of routines. I had not yet developed friendships, commitments, or any external spiritual relationships.
But today, my life is full to overflowing with meaningful opportunities for growth and connection—not one of which I would choose to forego.
Subtle little routines have evolved in my daily life, routines that in and of themselves serve a wonderful, inspired and useful purpose: Sunday nights at the plaza, Wednesday morning breakfasts, Wednesday afternoons in Playa Del Carmen, Friday night game nights, Saturday meetings with Rafael, frequent discussions with Eduardo, snorkeling trips, laundry, studying Spanish, shopping, and even eating.
Yet in the midst of my growing “busy-ness,” I have observed a long-standing tendency in myself to neglect important spiritual “business.” Routines have begun to feel like obligations rather than choices.
In April, a powerful dream of bicycles, string, and bees illuminated one aspect of my path very clearly: Such busy-ness ties me down, restricting my ability to flow freely along my bicycle path of personal growth.
Very soon, I will again lay aside newly established routines and commitments, take down another figurative bicycle from my ceiling, and set out on a brand new journey of growth and discovery.
Yet a pressing question looms in my mind, “If I were to stay in Cozumel, would I be capable of achieving spiritual balance—maintaining the magical aliveness of every experience—nurturing my internal connection to the divine?”
I would love to believe that the answer is “Yes.”
Festering Emotions
Last week, I awoke from two different, yet powerful dreams.
In the first, my car keys had been misplaced by extended family members, leaving me feeling frustrated, fearful, and confused as I contemplated and wrestled with my inability to drive, to get from one place to the next.
In the second dream, I was in a large indoor concert hall, attempting to inconspicuously maneuver myself from one location to another—yet every attempt to move through the aisles was met by inconvenient, unexpected obstacles.
Both dreams left me feeling unsettling emotions of anger and frustration, causing me to question my fears and wonder what message I need to take away.
Then, during Friday night game night last week, I uncharacteristically got caught-up in the pseudo-reality of a card game as one player unintentionally broke the rules—seriously placing the outcome of our silly game in jeopardy. As I tried to tell him “No, don’t do that,” I was temporarily blind to the intense emotion with which I spoke those innocent words.
I am grateful for my friend JayDee’s gentle comment that immediately pulled me back into the role of observer. After a quick apology on my part, our game returned to one of love and joy.
The dreams and experiences of last week resulted in considerable pondering on my part. It seems obvious that my rapidly approaching bus journey into the unknown of the Yucatan and beyond is triggering some temper-tantrums in my subconscious. My heart tells me that beautiful new growth is on its way.
I cannot wait to experience my next lessons.
Surrendering to Sunrise
This morning, I witnessed a beautiful sunrise—the first I have seen from my Cozumel rooftop in a very, very long time.
As I quietly listen to the sounds of birds squawking and distant roosters crowing, I watch in awe while the stars fade and the skies awaken. Soon, a brilliant yellow-orange globe pokes its head above the distant horizon, signaling what I know to be the beginning of a wonderful and energizing day.
The magic of my rooftop is so refreshing.
Indeed, this magic has been here all along. It was here yesterday, last week, and last month; and it will still be here tomorrow and next week.
The real question is this: “Will I be present to participate in the magic in each moment as it unfolds, or will I return to a state of ‘knowing’—where I think I have better things to do with my time?”
For today, for now, in this moment, I choose to be present in the magic.
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved