(This is the first installment of a series of posts describing my experiences at the “Moon Course” retreat at Las Piramides Del Ka in San Marcos La Laguna, Guatemala. Subsequent posts will follow very soon.)
Eager anticipation is my companion as I descend a small flight of stairs. My bare feet love the cool energy of the uneven rock slabs that cover the steps below. At the bottom I pause briefly to secure my room key and water bottle in a small covered shelf. A loving smile fills my face as I take one final backward glance over my left shoulder. The outside porch, which is now just above eye level, is covered in shoes and flip flops. As the people behind me pass through the upper door, their happy chit-chat is replaced by a quiet feeling of sacred reverence.
Quickly, I turn back to my right to resume my short journey, passing first through a thin white curtain that hides a small passageway behind it. After about eight feet I pass through another white hanging curtain and see a second flight of rock covered steps leading upward into the base of the temple before me. Ducking ever so slightly, so as not to bump my head, I proceed slowly forward, gradually ascending the stairs.
As I emerge through the floor into the interior of the pyramid temple, my soul recognizes the peaceful presence of a quiet and reassuring energy. I know that I am exactly where I need to be.
The temple is amazingly simple, yet at the same time elegantly beautiful. The main floor is constructed of a smoothly-polished hardwood, stained with a dark earthy tone that reminds me somewhat of maple.
Each side of the perfectly square floor is perhaps thirty feet in length. The triangle-shaped walls slope inward from each of these sides, joining together in a single point at the top.
At the center of each wall, about seven feet above the floor, large windows are opened inward, allowing the cool fresh outdoor air to freely enter. The top four feet of the room’s peak are also glass, allowing the afternoon sun to gently light the room from above.
The sides of the pyramid are aligned perfectly with the four compass points. I sit along the north wall, selecting a white mat on the east end. About fifteen other mats are evenly spaced in a “U shape” along the north, west, and south sides of the room. In the center of the east side sits a lone woman. Her long black hair is braided on both sides, hanging down below each ear. A white knitted cap covers the top of her head, and a loose-fitting white robe drapes over her shoulders, covering her white slacks and blouse.
On the floor in each corner of the room are small wooden pyramids. To my left in the northeast corner, a large crystal sits on the small pyramid. Counterclockwise to my right, the small pyramid in the next corner contains a glass of water, the next empty air space, and the final a glowing dancing candle. I later learn that these four smaller pyramids symbolically represent the four elements: earth, water, air, and fire.
In the very center of the room is a slightly larger pyramid, covered in a red cloth. Candle flames dance in each corner of the room, as well as at the front.
I watch with interest as a man enters the room, selecting a mat directly opposite me, on the south side of the room, exactly at the other end of the “U shape”. Having a pleasant smile and slightly wavy hair, he appears to be about my age. As he begins to sit on his mat, a rush of peaceful resonating energy tells me that we will have a connection in some way.
“Don’t worry about how or in what way the connection may manifest.” The little Jedi voices continue. “Just flow with the experience … allow things to be as they are … and respond to promptings.”
As the last person enters the room, a small two-door hatch is carefully swung into place from both sides, gently covering the entry staircase with more beautiful hardwood flooring. No doors remain. We are all in the room for the duration.
Joyful Tears
Each of us in the room sits silently on a low three-inch slanted stool, with our legs crossed in front. In my mind I begin to wonder how long I will be able to hold such an awkward pose, but I am determined to find out.
The mysterious woman begins to speak, telling us that her name is “Chaty”, and that she will be our teacher twice per day on Monday through Friday. Each morning at 10:15 a.m. she will lead us in a half hour of silent meditation followed by forty-five minutes of class on various spiritual topics. Each evening at 5:00 p.m. she will lead us in a half hour of silent meditation, followed by forty-five minutes of directed and guided meditation exercises and/or practices.
During our Saturday Spiritual topics discussions, and our Saturday and Sunday meditation classes, different teachers will work with us.
Every day except Sunday, at 7:00 a.m., we will also have an hour and fifteen minutes of yoga practice. Two different teachers will take turns working with us in the basics of Hatha Yoga, beginning our first week with intense focus on breathing techniques.
As Chaty finishes her brief introduction and instructs us to begin meditating in silence, my mental chatter is loud and almost nonstop.
I attempt to focus on the sounds of beautiful birds echoing through the open windows above. Every so often I also recognize the sound of boats passing by on the lake. The sounds are so peaceful, so relaxing.
“BOOM!” Out of nowhere, the bomb-like sound of a loud bottle rocket echoes in the sky nearby. Soon, the varying sounds of a distant evangelical church begin to flood the silence. Ten minutes later, the explosions of two more bottle rockets thunder through the air. The littered streets have been swept, and the nighttime festival has ended, but many in the small village of San Marcos continue to celebrate the birth of their patron saint.
“Am I doing this right?” my left brain queries. This cross-legged silence feels quite silly. I have tried this before and it only frustrates me.
“Ouch, my foot is going to sleep,” the chatter continues, “and my hips hurt. These muscles were never designed to bend and twist in this way.”
“Brenda, focus quietly on your breath.” My right brain pipes in, trying to get me back on track. I briefly return to the present moment.
“I hope that is not a mosquito.” I tell myself as my right ankle begins to itch. I briefly peek down to make sure that a big mosquito is not actually sinking it’s snout into my flesh. After seeing no buzzing bugs, I again attempt to keep my eyes closed, but yet another itchy spot demands my focus.
Finally, I am able to mostly silence the chatter as I focus on breathing rhythms, but the persistent mental babble continues to briefly interrupt in short waves. I peacefully thank the unwanted thoughts for reminding me that today is Thursday evening, April 29. A few minutes later, I gratefully congratulate the thoughts for pointing out that I am hungry, and that I am beginning to really like the San Marcos area. Each time that the little voices have their say, I acknowledge them, dismiss them, and return to peaceful breathing.
After thirty minutes, Chaty quietly taps the side of a small Tibetan Singing bowl with a short wooden mallet, creating a gentle ringing sound.
“Take seven deep breaths and then open your eyes.” Chaty guides us quietly.
Chaty leads us in a brief round of introductions, and then tells us that we are going to do a partner meditation, instructing us to turn our small white mats so that we face the person next to us. Then she instructs us to stare into our partner’s eyes while meditating on the question “What do I hope to get out of this course?”
By now, the outside lights are fading and the room is much darker, lit mainly by candles. As I stare into my new friend Mary’s eyes, a stream of related ideas begins to flash through my mind.
“I am here to learn more about spirituality.” I think to myself.
“I am here to learn to how to meditate and to do yoga.” My logical mind quickly adds. “And I am here to develop better habits in both of these areas, so as to help in my life journey.”
“I am here to learn how to more completely connect and communicate with my spiritual guides.”
After about ten minutes of staring into Mary’s eyes, unexpected tears begin to bubble in the corner of my own eyes, some of them escaping down my cheeks. Almost immediately, I notice that Mary’s eyes do the same, becoming saturated with water. We maintain our loving gaze while intense peace and love floods my soul.
“I am here to learn how to see God inside of everyone and everything.” My heart joyfully chimes in with deep resonating power. “I am here to deepen my experience into unconditional love.”
Thursday evening, as I relax in my cozy little room, a peaceful presence coaxes me gently to sleep.
Stretching The Limits
I have long experienced a deep sense of knowing that yoga is in my future—a knowing that flexibility and balance, both physical and spiritual, are integral and necessary elements in my path. On two different occasions during the past ten years, I attempted to establish a consistent yoga routine – once with a friend in a community fitness center, and once by myself in my home. Both experiences fizzled after a short month or two.
When I began my journey to Cozumel eleven months ago, I took my first steps with solid intentions, packing several brand new yoga DVDs in my suitcases. To this day, each remains unopened, unused.
As I enter my first yoga session here at Las Piramides, I feel a rich sense of gratitude for the structured opportunity to begin anew. While the future remains unknown, there is no doubt in my mind that during the next thirty days I will nourish and cultivate a deeper energizing connection with my body and soul.
We start off with the basics of breathing and posture, focusing much of the first week on detoxification and purification while gently stretching areas of my body that have not moved in years. Through it all, we are constantly reminded to focus on our breathing, and on our core abdominal strength. As our second week begins, we gradually add new poses designed to help us with balance and harmony.
While I love every minute of each meditative yoga session, my tight muscles are not always in complete agreement. Many positions prove to be quite strenuous, leaving my legs wobbly and exhausted. My incredible immersion into yoga is truly stretching my limits.
Dancing Auras
Our first few spiritual classes are interesting and thought provoking, and our twice-daily meditation time is deeply relaxing and peaceful—but it is not until Monday evening that my mind begins to dance with the possibilities.
After thirty minutes of silent meditation, Chaty informs us that we are going to practice learning how to see auras. My skeptical left brain immediately begins to chatter away.
“Yeah right,” the doubting voices taunt me, “you cannot even effectively visualize during guided meditation. There is no way that you will ever be able to see an aura.”
My heart just smiles back at the doubting voices and silently, but confidently, replies, “Just watch me.”
After dividing up into pairs, we each sit on our mats about two yards from our partner. As instructed I stare intently at a spot on the wall about four-fingers-width above Mary’s head. Maintaining my constant gaze without blinking proves to be an extremely difficult task. The thought of attempting this for fifteen minutes is even more daunting; yet I give it a champion effort. My eyes begin to feel dry and scratchy as I feel my focus constantly dancing from one eye to the other. Periodic uncontrollable blinking distracts me, but I persist.
After about ten minutes, I begin to notice a violet glow around the left side of Mary’s head. As soon as I try to focus my attention on the glow, it disappears. Seconds later the strip of purple reappears, occasionally on her right side or on top of her head, but usually situated just above her left ear.
As our final five minutes ticks away, I continue to focus as intently as possible, carefully observing what I see as I practice holding my gaze just right. For several seconds, I see a beautiful glow that extends several inches out from Mary’s head, just above her left ear. The portion closest to her head is a dark purple, the few outer inches are a beautiful shade of lavender, almost pinkish, the tips of the color dancing almost like the tips of a flame.
The old “logical me” would say that this was all just an optical illusion, but as I leave Monday evening’s meditation, I have no doubt whatsoever that I was able to see a small portion of Mary’s aura. I am excited at the possibilities for future practice.
Dream Magic
Classes this week have focused on chakras, lucid dreaming, and astral traveling. Given that so many of my recent guidance messages have been coming through dreams, my energy in class is undividedly focused on absorbing every word. In my non-class hours, I cannot help but flash back frequently to memories of a vivid dream of less than seven weeks ago.
It was March 23, near the start of my second week in Rio Dulce. I had just finished writing about the Mayan village in Belize and was barely beginning to focus on Guatemala. It was while meditating on this dream that spirit told me to “Forget everything you know” and to “Lower your defenses.” It was the very same dream in which my ego identity was kidnapped, and in which I found myself floating in a boat out in the Caribbean, seated next to a beautiful young child.
“Where am I?” I had asked the young child.
“You are in Astral.” Was his amazing answer – an answer which to me at the time meant nothing. I was not at all familiar with the word “Astral.”
On Wednesday, as Chaty begins to talk about the possibilities of Astral travel, she shares a few of her own personal experiences – deeply inspiring experiences that eventually guided her to form Las Piramides del Ka in San Marcos. As I listen quietly, my mind eagerly explores the possible deeper meanings of my own dream about Astral.
But for today, in the present moment, it is lucid dreams that call to me the most. In lucid dreams, the dreamer is actually able to wake up to a conscious state while still remaining in the dream. A strong intuitive sense tells me that I can do this – that I definitely will be doing this – and I am eager to get started.
On our second Friday morning, Chaty dedicates a portion of our discussion time teaching us techniques to use right before bedtime – focused meditation practices that will center us in our intentions to remember our dreams – meditation techniques that involve the grounding energy of the four elements of earth, water, air, and fire.
Friday evening I eagerly try my first meditation experiment. I light my candle and meditate silently for fifteen minutes. Then I hold a crystal in my hand, focusing my energy on the earth, telling myself “I can remember my dreams.” After a few minutes I do the same with a glass of water, a stick of burning incense, and then with my candle. At 10:15 p.m., with my notebook, pen, and reading light by my bed, I relax into my pillow.
During the first three hours I wake up three times from dreams – but I remember only the third dream. It is vivid, filled with easy to interpret symbolism. I write it all down, but it does not strike me as being particularly important.
Then at 5:23 on Saturday morning, I begin to wake up from another dream – a dream in which I find myself in a room filled with young children, perhaps ten years in age. In the dream, these young children are floating up into the air and then returning to the floor.
Just as I begin to wake up, I catch myself and with all my intent I drift back into the dream. While watching the children, I decide to use my mind to make one of them float into the air. Immediately the child floats for a second before falling back to the floor. I repeat the process a few times with the same results: I can make them float but I cannot keep them there.
“That was fun.” I tell myself. “I wonder what else I can do.”
The next thing I remember is that I am watching a young girl finish a story telling session. As she completes her words, she looks up, and with her thoughts she forms a black and white drawing on the wall. Soon the picture floats up to the ceiling and imprints itself permanently into the paint above.
Immediately, I look at the wall and draw a picture with my own mind, and similarly cause it to float up to the ceiling.
At this point in the dream, I wake up with the full awareness that during portions of this final dream, I was actually participating from a semi-conscious state – keenly aware of what I was doing while exploring the magical possibilities.
While this was just a silly magical dream, I learned that it is entirely possible to wake up and to be more participatory in my dream interactions. The potential intrigues me. I cannot wait to explore and practice.
Friendship Phobias
From the moment I first see Steven’s face across the room on that opening Thursday night, I am intrigued by the inner sense of energetic knowing that we will be connecting in some way – yet I try to avoid dwelling on the idea. Even with all of the gentle spiritual messages over the last several weeks – messages telling me to open my heart and mind to new possibilities when it comes to relationships – I still feel quite intimidated by the idea of a friendship with a man.
On the surface, this fear makes absolutely no sense, given the fact that a large percentage of the friendships that I have formed in the past eleven months are with people of the male gender. But in every one of those cases, I knew up front that the relationship was simply going to be a friendship – nothing more.
Today, I am not quite certain what the Universe has in mind, and I am not particularly eager to find out.
I silently cross my fingers and hope that the experience is simply about making another new friend – at the same time quietly committing to myself that I will allow my heart to lead.
A sense of blind trust reassures me that “if” the Universe really wants me to get to know Steven, then it will happen without forcing anything. I need do nothing, other than to remain spiritually centered and respond to promptings – remaining fully unattached to any and all outcomes.
Friday, after evening Meditation, I am standing near the door of the pyramid temple chatting with several of the younger women who are participating in the Moon Course. Out of the corner of one eye, I observe as Steven approaches.
“I was thinking it might be fun to get together as a group for a nice dinner one evening.” Steven begins. “Are any of you interested?”
Freezing in my tracks, I watch as the others indicate that they are cooking their own dinners in the shared vegetarian kitchen. When it is my turn to respond, I make up a lame excuse, essentially giving a non-answer.
“Maybe,” I begin, “but I’m trying to watch my budget and not spend too much on dinners.”
As I walk back to my room, I feel quite stupid. I recognize that the Universe just shoved the first clue in front of my face, and I resisted, running away to bury my head in the sand.
Embracing the Flow
Saturday, after morning meditation, Steven approaches me.
“Brenda, I realize you are on a tight budget,” Steven confidently begins, “but I was wondering whether you would have dinner with me tonight if I volunteer to pay.”
“Absolutely,” I reply with a friendly smile, having since learned my lesson from the previous night.
“But you don’t really need to pay.” I add, somewhat embarrassed. “I do have money … it is just that I’m trying to stretch it out to make it last as long as possible.”
That evening, Steven and I are sitting together in a nearby restaurant. My resistance begins to squirm and wiggle like an unruly three year old child, so I quietly put the distracting chatter in timeout, instructing it to sit on a chair over in the corner.
I am “all in”, fully committed to see where this friendship may lead. I am determined to be open and true to my promptings – open to the possibilities, whatever they may be – having no attachments to outcomes – none whatsoever.
A beautiful and delightfully energizing three hour conversation ensues – a conversation in which each of us takes turns sharing many details about our life-long physical, emotional, and spiritual journeys. I do not feel even the slightest twinge of fear in sharing what not too many years ago were shameful, hidden secrets.
During the course of our inspiring discussions, a slight sense of relief washes through my mind as I learn that Steven is not currently available in the relationship arena. I can relax now. I am totally free to simply be an unconditionally loving friend. Gratitude fills my heart.
Over the course of the next week, Steven and I have many fun visits together – sharing a boat ride into Panajachel, enjoying a couple of short hikes, and discussing spiritual issues over many lunches or dinners. I giggle inside when I think about how anxious and nervous I had previously been. Such fears are now but a distant memory.
I am deeply grateful that I opened my mind to new possibilities, lowered my defenses, and allowed the flow of the Universe to bless me with a new friend.
Face Plant
About four years ago, I fell into a spiritual pothole. As I participated in a weekend spiritual retreat, I had found myself feeling quite spiritually arrogant, silently resenting the way the leaders were guiding the weekend. At the same time I was quietly judging some of the other participants as being less spiritual than myself. I never once verbalized those inner resentments – but even held in silence, their effect on my soul was more damaging than a potent and powerful poison.
It is difficult to explain the emotional devastation that I experienced. By the end of the second day of that retreat, I had isolated myself and was sobbing. My soul felt as if I had been cut off from all connection to the divine flow. Feeling alone and abandoned, I was desperate to reconnect with spirit – to re-center myself – but I seemed incapable of doing so.
After that devastating experience it took me several weeks to fully climb out of the hole, to figure out what had actually happened, to remove all of the splinters from my soul, and to reopen my channel with spirit. Through that experience, I learned several powerful lessons in humility and judgment.
On my second Saturday in San Marcos, I did a face plant into that same pothole.
Luckily I recognized the bottom, and it was not quite as deep.
Every Saturday, a very genuine and devoted man leads our 10:15 a.m. meditation and spiritual topics discussion at Las Piramides. On the first Saturday, his discussion on the topics of duality versus non-duality went in one ear and out the other. For some reason, his intellectual and philosophical teaching style triggered great resistance in me, and I left that session feeling as if my time had been utterly wasted – yet I easily moved on after the session without feeling the least bit attached to that assessment.
However, our session on the following Saturday proved to be a different matter. As we talked about the seven spiritual principles of a book called “The Kyballion”, this sweet man’s intellectual style began driving me insane. I tried to simply zone out and not pay him any attention, but I found myself feeling intense resistance and judgment at his words – even though, ironically, I actually agreed with most of them.
“What is going on with me?” I repeatedly asked myself. “Why am I reacting so violently to his philosophical left-brained manner of presenting this material?”
In many ways, I realized he was trigging my own self-judgment – triggering a feeling of disgust at how I had spent so many years of my life immersed in my analytical left brain without actually allowing myself to have a personal right brain experience. But this realization did little to liberate me from my inability to stop judging this genuine man’s teaching style.
After class I briefly discussed my troubling feelings with Stephen, explaining how I knew it was my own issue, but that I was having a difficult time moving beyond it. For the remainder of the day I continued to feel irritated, alone, isolated, and judgmental at even the littlest of things going on around me. While I refused to buy into those confusing emotions, and I made every effort to remain the observer, I did allow the emotions to flow through me unobstructed – knowing full well that stuffing them down would be counterproductive.
As I went to bed on Saturday night, I felt somewhat puzzled by the unwavering intensity of my feelings of isolation, yet I was firm in the belief that this was MY issue and that I could work through it – keeping it as an “Inside Job” without placing outward blame.
Return of Radiance
Early Sunday morning, May 9, as I entertain the idea of sleeping in during our only morning without Yoga, a little Jedi voice persistently chatters away in my heart.
“Get up now,” the little voices coax me. “You know you want to go up on the hillside overlooking the lake. There you can reconnect with spirit in your own way.”
Even with ten days of consistent practice, traditional meditation techniques were simply not working for me in my time of need. Fighting my resistance, I opt to follow my internal voices that are guiding me back to using a method that works for me.
At 6:15 a.m., in the magical glow of early morning light, I find myself hiking up a thickly wooded switch-back-filled trail to the top of a small waterfront hill on the western edge of San Marcos.
Finding a small shaded clearing near the edge of a high cliff, I sit on a small uneven patch of dry soil while literally inhaling the gorgeous panoramic view spread out before me. Several hundred feet below are the vast deep blue waters of Lake Atitlan. On the far side of those mirror-like waters, three dormant volcanoes powerfully dominate the skyline with majestic peaks disappearing into puffy clouds above.
I begin to sing out loud, singing songs that I memorized almost six years ago during a deep period of emotional rebirth – songs about healing, songs about courage, songs about letting go, songs about inspiration, and songs about being true to myself.
I return to my personal mission statement, words that I have not repeated in what feels like two or three months. At first I almost do not believe my personal words of inspiration and purpose. They seem like they must belong to another – someone from a different lifetime. But I repeat the words over and over, stopping frequently to focus on the hidden and deeper meaning of each word, each phrase.
Emotions of confusion and exhaustion gradually transform into emotions of love and gratitude. Tears begin to flow – not tears of sadness but tears of joyful release – tears fed by the energizing feeling of spiritual connectedness that has solidly returned to my awareness.
Suddenly, all of yesterday’s worries and concerns seem so incredibly silly and meaningless. An inner glow has returned to my heart. I can feel my eyes radiating love and peace. It is like someone or something suddenly recharged my inner batteries and turned on a light switch in my heart. I again have an unlimited supply of love to broadcast to the world.
My feeling of inner radiance has returned. Nothing can stop me now. As I return to the village below, the world around me literally feels different – positive, joyful, and alive.
“Why didn’t I go to the mountains sooner?” I think to myself. I cannot wait to see what the next two and a half weeks will bring.
Copyright © 2010 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved