(This is the sixth installment of a series of posts describing my experiences of this past week. Subsequent posts will follow very soon.)
My beeping cell phone startles me from a deep sleep. It is already 5:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, time to quickly prepare for a final goodbye ceremony—a ceremony that will take place back in Kaxan Xuul, on top of the same overgrown pyramid where we participated in the amazing fire ceremony just four short nights ago.
I look around the room and notice that Gloria is nowhere to be seen.
“Where’s Gloria?” I ask Antonia.
“It was very late,” Antonia replies, “and she had still not finished packing up her things. She decided to go ahead and sleep in her own cabin.”
In less than twenty minutes we are on our way. Gloria quickly joins us as we pause briefly at her cabin door.
The skies are still dark, but the bright stars are already beginning to fade. I hold my tiny flashlight in one hand, helping to guide us all safely over the rough and rocky road below. In my other hand I carefully hold my precious little baby Ceiba tree.
“Today is the day that I will plant this beautiful tree.” I tell myself.
I momentarily lean my nose down close to my armpits to see how badly I smell. This is the fifth and final day that I will be wearing this sweaty white dress. The scented powder does an adequate job of masking the odor, but I still pray that no one around me will faint as I hug them. I receive a sense of comfort as I realize that in just a few hours I will be wearing normal, dry, clean clothes.
Shortly after 5:30 a.m., my three friends and I join the others who are already circled up around the white ash remains of the fire ceremony. For the next ten minutes or so, a few other stragglers continue to filter in. Many of our group left us last night, continuing on their respective journeys after leaving Chichen Itza. By 5:45 a.m., about 25 of us who still remain have gathered around the ashes of Wednesday evening’s fire ceremony to say our final goodbyes.
The skies have lightened considerably by the time Jesus Fabian begins speaking. As I glance around, the surrounding jungle appears very mystical. We stand slightly above the canopy of tree tops, allowing us to see for miles. The surrounding trees are engulfed in a light hazy fog—just enough fog to provide an incredible mysterious ambience, but not quite enough to hide the trees completely from our view.
The vista is literally breathtaking.
In the midst of this enchanting backdrop, Jesus Fabian first leads us in a traditional salute to the compass points. After discussing a few logistical points, he then turns the time over to us, requesting that we each share our experiences and feelings about our past five days together.
Standing on Jesus Fabian’s right is a beautiful woman named Carmen. She lives in Playa del Carmen, and is one of the co-organizers of our event. In fact, Trini, who owns and runs the Cocina Maya is Carmen’s sister.
Jesus Fabian asks Carmen to begin our round of sharing. Seconds into her beautiful words, tears begin to stream down Carmen’s cheeks. As she continues to talk, I begin to think about what it is that I want to say—what it is that I am capable of saying. Almost immediately, I am overcome with the same joyful, loving emotions of intense love and gratitude. Tears begin streaming down my own cheeks as I attempt to hide my muffled happy sobs.
José Manuel puts his arm around my shoulder to comfort me. This loving Olmec Shaman has been standing by me, providing physical support as I try to maintain my footing among the uneven rocky ground while limping around in my flimsy flip flops. I am so grateful for the love I feel radiating from him as he makes such a kind simple gesture.
Ten minutes later, it is my turn to speak. My tears have temporarily stopped, but immediately burst forth yet again as soon as I open my mouth.
“It is with all of my deep love,” I struggle to form words through my tears, “that I express my gratitude to each of you here for helping me to have a wonderful experience this week. I am filled with so much love and joy for having had the opportunity to be here with each of you.”
“I may not have understood everything here,” I pause and point to my head, “but I felt every bit of it here in my heart.” I point to my heart.
By now my tears are really flowing, my voice is shaking.
“I want to personally thank everyone here who helped me and shared your love with me.”
Then I make a small announcement.
“I have here in my hands a small baby Ceiba tree that my dear friend Eduardo in Cozumel gave me to plant somewhere in the Yucatan. I have decided that I want to plant this sacred little tree right here in Kaxan Xuul. I want to leave it here to honor this sacred place.”
Immediately upon hearing my words, Carmen bursts into tears.
The sharing continues for most of the next hour and a half. I am repeatedly brought to tears as I witness person after person speak from deep within their hearts, many of them reaching tearful and joyful emotion as well. I expect many of the women to openly cry their tears of joy, but am thrilled to see many of the men doing the same. My heart goes out to a handsome young man from Tulum, Josué, as he shares a powerful message of love while tears stream down his dripping wet cheeks.
As Jesus Fabian announces the end of our ceremony, I am saddened, wanting to continue, not wanting this loving experience to end.
Antonia rushes over and gives me a big hug, telling me that she has to leave. She needs to get to Valladolid to catch her homeward bound bus. We exchange huge hugs before Antonia quickly disappears down the side of this earth-covered pyramid. I wish I had more time to say proper goodbyes.
Amidst a powerful flurry of deep hugs and love-felt goodbyes, Carmen approaches me and asks, “So where do you want to plant the Ceiba?”
“I am not quite sure yet.” I reply. “I would love your help in deciding.”
Before we have a chance to discuss this further, Jesus Fabian speaks from across the fire circle.
“Brenda,” he begins, “there are official ceremonies for planting a Ceiba tree. What I would really like to happen is for you to officially give the tree to Carmen. Then she can coordinate the planting as it should be done.”
I am slightly confused, but think I more-or-less understand. As I stand facing Carmen, I hold the precious baby tree in my hands. Then I reach it out to her, and say:
“Carmen, with deep love, I give you this tree, with the intent that it be planted here in this sacred space of Kaxan Xuul.”
Carmen accepts the tree, very carefully sets it down on a rock at the top of the pyramid, and then disappears with Jesus Fabian to discuss logistics.
As I stand here, staring at this sacred little tree that is no longer mine, I feel very conflicted and perplexed. I fully expect that she will facilitate the planting of the tree today, right now.
Dear sweet Gloria walks by and I ask her. “I am confused. Can you please help me understand what will be happening with my baby tree?
“Carmen is leaving it here on top the pyramid.” Gloria begins. “She is going to contact Bartolomé to arrange a time when he can return to perform the planting ceremony. When he is able to come, Carmen will return to Kaxan Xuul to participate in the ceremony.”
“But I want to be here when it is planted.” I reply with a certain amount of emotion and attachment. “Do you think that would be possible?”
“You’ll have to work that out with Carmen.” Gloria lovingly responds.
But Carmen is nowhere to be seen, and I do not have her contact information. Even so, I somehow know that everything will work itself out perfectly, exactly the way it needs to happen.
With deep emotion, I turn and say goodbye to my precious little tree, taking one last photo for memory sake.
Everyone but Gloria has already left. I proceed to follow her around, fascinated by what she is doing.
Waving the copal-emitting salmador around in front of her, she performs a few final blessings around the fire ashes at the top of this earth-covered pyramid. At my request, she also blesses the tiny tree before we descend the path.
As I follow her slowly, Gloria walks down the trail toward the Temazcal structure. With deep love and reverence she walks around the small round dome. Pausing at each doorway, Gloria holds her salmador in the air, one by one saluting the east, west, north, and the south. I shadow her every move, quietly following her from a few feet behind, being careful to stay out of her way. Another young woman joins us half way through our silent ceremony.
Soon, Gloria holds the salmador to the sky, thanking and blessing the heavens above. Finally, the three of us kneel on the ground while Gloria humbly salutes the earth below.
Walking several feet to the west of the Temazcal, Gloria digs a small hole in the ground using the sharp edge of a nearby rock. Then she pours the remaining hot coals from her salmador into the shallow hole. After pouring a little water, sending puffs of sizzling steam into the air, Gloria uses her feet to push brownish-red soil over the top of the steaming remains. Gently, she stands on the pile of dirt, rotating her body in a 360 degree circle, as she presses the soil downward with her shoes.
“Thank you for staying here with me.” Gloria tells me as we begin to walk away, headed back toward the village. “I really appreciate it.”
Final Goodbyes
As Gloria and I approach our respective cabins, I notice Osiris just barely walking into ours. As I follow him in, he looks very emotional as he stands reading a hand-written note from Antonia. I walk over to my backpack and find that she has left me a beautiful loving note as well. In addition, she has left me a beautiful gift—a handcrafted necklace created from small lavender, light-brown, and green stones.
“I need to leave now.” Osiris begins, “I found a ride with the group from Tulum. They will be leaving soon, and I need to meet them at the Cocina.
I walk over and give Osiris a huge hug. Then, staring him straight in the eye, holding one hand on each shoulder, I tell him:
“You are an incredible young man, with a huge heart and a powerful spirit. I am so grateful for having the opportunity to get to know you.”
I then wish him well on his travel adventures to South America, and promise to look for him on Facebook.
After one more heartfelt hug, Osiris disappears through the front door. Feelings of deep love radiate through my soul as I quickly proceed to pack up my own scattered belongings, eager to arrive at the Cocina Maya myself. While hurriedly stuffing my backpack, I am pondering two issues—first, I would love to exchange contact information with Carmen so that maybe I can participate in a future planting ceremony—and second, I have no idea how I will be getting to Valladolid.
As I hobble down the lane, wearing both my heavy backpack and my daypack, I somehow know that there is absolutely nothing to worry about. Both issues will quickly resolve themselves.
I set my heavy backpack down on the ground as I enter the crowded Cocina Maya. After exchanging several more heartfelt hugs, I find a seat next to many of my new friends.
Delfino is sitting directly across from me. Matter-of-factly he leans over and holds out his thumb and two forefingers.
“Brenda,” he begins, “I just wanted to show you my fingers. I was holding the hot charcoal the whole time, and I did not get burned.”
It never even occurred to me to ask Delfino how his fingers were. As I glance at his hand, I see that these three fingers are a tiny bit yellowish on the end, but there are no blisters, no signs of trauma, and no pain (so he says).
“Could it be that his end of the charcoal really was scalding hot?” I ponder to myself. I may never know the answer to the question.
Seconds later, I notice Carmen walk into the kitchen to visit with her sister. I quickly corner her and express my desire to attend the tree planting ceremony as soon as she is able to coordinate with Bartolomé. She fully agrees, and we quickly exchange contact information. Concern number one is easily resolved.
Gloria has since walked into the kitchen and I ask her how she is getting back to Valladolid.
“Jesus Fabian is giving me a ride to the bus station.” She replies.
Minutes later, I notice Jesus Fabian pull up and run over to ask if he has additional space. I strike out as he tells me that his car is full.
Soon I notice an old Volkswagen bus pull up—it is the Tulum group, the same group of artists who put on the puppet show in the park on Thursday evening. I notice Osiris climb in with them and I run over to ask my question.
“Is there any way you have space to let me ride with you as far as Valladolid?” I ask quickly.
Seconds later, I have hugged Gloria goodbye, waved at all of my other new friends, and squeezed into the back of the crowded Volkswagen bus. Sitting around me are a group of young performing artists from Tulum—plus my dear friend Osiris, who is also an artist at heart. Osiris still has his beautiful painting with him, carefully stowed in the back right behind my head.
The return journey passes rapidly, and it seems like only minutes before I am standing on the sidewalk, just one block from my hostel. Lifting my heavy backpack up over my shoulders I begin to hobble back toward my temporary home.
My emotions are again mixed.
On the one hand I am basking in the joy of an incredibly beautiful experience, a five-day weekend that I will never forget, an experience in love, peace, trust, surrender, and self-discovery that has taught me so much about myself. Yes, I am overflowing with gratitude for everything that has taken place.
On the other hand, I suddenly feel very alone. I am in a foreign country, in a new city about which I know very little, and am unable to fully communicate in the local language. My burn is quite severe. There is no doubt in my mind that I need to seek medical assistance, but I have no idea where to begin, or how long the healing process will take.
I am about to embark on a whole new growth path as I explore another realm of fear and doubt. I fully realize that no matter what happens, I will be OK, and the growth will be amazing.
Yes, in spite of the uncertain healing journey that I know lies ahead, I would not change a thing about these past five days. There is no doubt in my mind that everything happened exactly the way it needed to happen. The treasures have already been manifesting themselves in the form of deep loving bonds, and new relationships. A sneaky suspicion tells me that I have yet to uncover the most beautiful gems. Yes, all is well; all is exactly as it should be.
But for now, I just want to curl up and rest.
To be continued …
Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved