So many photos and so little space. I started out with over 250, and have narrowed down the selection to 144. For those of you into numerology, I didn’t plan the number, it just worked out that way .. 12 times 12 — the 12th blog entry of my writing marathon, and the photos were uploaded in the 12th month of 2010 … Just fun little tidbits.

As usual, all photos are thumbnail images. If you want to view and/or download a high resolution photo of any image, you can simply click on the thumbnail image and your computer will magically do the rest.

Oct 24 – Mayan Ceremony

On October 24, several of us attended a local Mayan Ceremony. We got to help organize and set up a few of the candles needed for the ceremony. Above center in this photo, my dear friend Sandra helps with this setup.

As I have seen on a few other occasions, the Mayan Shaman here in Guatemala build the ceremonial fire out of fascinating materials. The base of this one is built using some type of home-made briquettes — made out of something quite flamable. The man kneeling on the right is “Tata Pedro” — a Mayan Shaman from across the lake, a man who does quite a few ceremonies with foreigners …

A closer-up face shot of Tata Pedro. “Tata” is a title used here in Guatemala, similar to “Elder” in the Native American traditions, and “Abuelo” in the indigenous Mexican traditions.

Tata Pedro beating a drum — sitting next to Terri. Terri is a beautiful woman who participated in Nadia’s healing course with me. She has lived here in San Marcos for a very long time, and participates extensively with Mayan ceremonies.

Tata Pedro talking to the group that is gathered. The candle fire has just been lit …

Bees, Bees, and More Bees

On November 13, I discovered an amazing natural phenomenon in my bedroom window. A swarm of bees had decided to be my new roommates.

Prior to taking this photo, the bees had completely covered and surrounded this piece of dangling honeycomb — but I just didn’t think to grab my camera before using some smoking incense to cause them to scatter.

In this above photo you can see about half of the bees that were in my window. Many of them did indeed scatter to the skies after I doused them with a large dose of smoke.

The window has two large sliding glass panes. These bees are at the top of the window cavity, exactly in the middle of the two moving window panes.

Claudio, our building owner, came in with a broom and brushed away the honeycomb, causing the bees to fearfully scatter. They were very agitated, nervous, and began to gather in various locations around the window. In this photo, you can see some of them congregating in the upper middle where the honeycomb had been, others in the top right window corner.

And here, a small group of the frightened bees gather in the lower left corner…

And yet another group trying to find peace in the upper left corner.

But most of the frightened bees were buzzing around wildly, trying to figure out what just happened to their home.

Sandra had an idea — lets do Reiki on the bees to calm them down. The two of us sat like this for about ten minutes, sending loving peaceful energy to the frantic bees.

Ten minutes later, this is the result of our energetic efforts. The bees all settled down and gathered together in the upper right corner of the window box.

Next comes Miguel with his bucket of newspaper strips covered by large, fresh, green leaves — time to create a little more smoke.

Sandra watches eagerly from behind as Miguel attempts to get the bees to leave — but most of them stay right where they are …

A few minutes later, Claudio brings this older Mayan gentleman — a local beekeeper — to the rescue. He takes over with the bucket, but does not have much more luck than the rest of us. The bees don’t want to leave their new home.

The beekeeper then begins to gently brush the bees away from the window. He then uses a rag to spread some type of foul-smelling oil wherever the bees try to congregate — urging them to move on.

I am surprised that no one else besides me gets any stings whatsoever. I only received one sting on my left forearm.

Even with all of the beekeeper’s efforts, many of the bees are quite stubborn, attempting to regroup again and again.

This is a look at the beekeeper in my window as seen from below. He thinks he is almost done. Most of the bees have now left the window itself.

It is I who points out that this large group of bees has simply moved a few inches away, behind the shutter where the beekeeper cannot reach. These are stubborn little buzzers.

This is the piece of honeycomb from my window. I found it on the ground below. I was saving it for Keith (he had asked) — but could not resist a week later when a young Mayan girl asked me if she could have it.

Kambalacha

One afternoon on November 21, I hear loud music over in the town multi-sports court. When I went to investigate, I discovered this ongoing performance by a local art school called “Kambalacha”. It was quite fun to watch.

This is a photo of the crowd — a combination of foreigners and local people, gathered to support the youth.

This is a photo of some of the younger youth singing. But I did not include this photo to show the youth — instead, I thought it gives a great view of the outdoor basketball court. The crowd from the previous photo is sitting to the left, just out of the camera angle.

This Sports court is often quite noisy — concerts, school programs, soccer, and even basketball tournaments. Just about ten days ago, there were large (and I mean large) crowds gathered here watching the extremely noisy finals of a local tournament between neighboring villages. The announcer and time-out buzzers etc… were sounding very loudly until nearly 11:00 p.m. — and I live only about 50 yards away LOL. San Marcos is definitely not quiet.

Even right now, at 9:45 a.m. on New Years Day, a loud concert of live latin music is taking place. I can hear it quite loudly …

Some of the youth performing a beautiful dance.

Another portion of the same dance.

A group of the younger children … their costumes are so cute.

These older youth are quite comfortable in their colorful outfits.

A group of local indigenous people watching their friends and family perform. This is how most of the local Mayan women dress around Lake Atitlan.

This elderly Mayan woman was also watching the performance. She is usually down on the main footpath, selling bananas like these in her basket. She has the cutest partially-toothless grin. I frequently purchase bananas from her.

At Nadia’s House

I didn’t take hardly any photos during Nadia’s holistic healing course — but one day I did snap two or three photos.

On the left, in the red blouse, is Terri — one of my classmates. On the right, in light green is Merrill, the local crystal lady. She just happened to stop by for a visit during one of our breaks.

Standing on the right is Mark — Nadia’s other half. He was teaching us Reiki that day, so he was all dressed in white. Seated at the table is my dear friend Sandra.

And this is Nadia …

Hanukkah Dinner

On December 1,the first day of Hanukkah,  the same day that dear Sharonski moved in for a few days, she decided to cook a traditional Hebrew meal called “Levivot” — details are in my blog.

This is Sharon, cooking (deep fat frying) the Levivot on our little gas stove.

My neighbor, Holly, also helped to fry up the little Hanukkah treats …

Enjoying the Levivot — Left to right: Tina (neighbor), Holly (neighbor) and me wearing a grey sweater that I inherited from Sandra when she flew back to Australia two days earlier …

Tina and Sharon (pronounced shaw-RONE)

Me and Holly

Sharon’s Birthday Party

The very next day was Sharon’s birthday. Tina, Holly, Sharon, and I — along with Keith — all got together at the local Japanese restaurant.

Magical Keith — studying his menu

Holly and me.

Beautiful little Sharonski with her birthday cake …

And another photo of Holly and me…

Holly, me, and Keith

Sharon, recording memories from her own birthday party …

Sharon and Tina

A really cute shot of Keith sitting with Seiko — the owner of the Japanese restaurant.

A delightfully fun shot — playing around with the “Paca” — used clothes for sale in the Japanese restaurant. These hats were quite fun …

Left to Right: Sharon, Holly, Keith, and yours truly

Fun Trauma-Drama

Prior to Sharon moving in as my roommate, I had told Sandra one day that my worst nightmare was that Sharon might want to move in with me after she (Sandra) returns to Australia. Sharon had told Sandra something quite similar, indicating that if the two of us were ever to live with each other, we would probably kill each other.

As a beautifully synchronous Universe would have it, Sharon did move in for a week, and I discovered a caged three-year-old inner child living inside of me — all in the same week. As fate would have it, meditation revealed that my inner child had a name, and it was Sharon.

What an amazing week of growth and healing — I love Sharon so much.

On December 6, just prior to Sharon leaving San Marcos, we decided to act-out the trauma-drama of us killing each other. Tina was gracious enough to play our camerawoman.

We had so much fun taking these photos …

Sharon, sneaking up behind and choking me with her scarf.

Getting my head “painfully” pinched by a lemon squeezer.

And my hair viciously pulled …

Me getting even …

Taking the knock-down-drag-out fight outside …

Sharon taking great delight in throwing me off the second floor balcony …

After I crawled back up the stairs to rest in the neighbor’s hammock, she tried to strangle me with the hammock …

But I somehow managed to break free and grab a chair … Sharon quickly grabbed her own chair …

Ouch … that frying pan to the head really hurts …

Then the cruel torture begins … Sharon stuffs my mouth full of dry bread …

I have been pushed to my limit, and attempt to push Sharon’s head into the toilet …

But Sharon is stronger and quicker than I … doing a quick reversal and pushing my head into the stinky waters …

Sleeping with my light on, holding a kitchen knife in my hand …

Hey, a girl has got to be prepared to defend herself …

Tina scolds us for fighting and locks us in our apartment. We are scared and trapped behind our screen door … what to do?

Me, holding my three year old inner child in her cage …

A beautiful opportunity for friends to make up …

Dear Sharon still loves me …

And i love her too …

Trip To Xela With Keith

On Tuesday, December 7,  Keith asked if I wanted to tag along while he went to Xela to purchase additional cacao beans … I jumped at the opportunity.

By 6:20 a.m., just barely after sunrise, we arrived at our first photo stop — a ridge high above Lake Atitlan. The village in the middle of the photo is San Pablo — the place where the road goes up the side of the hill to where we are now situated. You can see a few switchbacks of the road in the bottom right of the photo. Just above and a little further away from San Pablo, you can see glimpses of a small portion of San Marcos.

The beatiful sun peaking over the mountains on the far side of Lake Atitlan. The orange glow made clear photos a little more difficult, but added its own beautiful touch.

Looking down from the same perch, this time looking toward the west end of the lake (the previous photos were looking east).

Below are the towns of San Juan and San Pedro. San Jan is the tinier one at the far right of the photo. The San Pedro volcano towers above the town of San Pedro right below. The furthest volcano, the one right in the middle, is “Atitlan Volcano” — it is the only volcano in this photo that is not excinct. This volcano has been dormant for over 150 years.

Keith, standing on top the hill, taking in the beautiful sunrise.

About an hour later, we crossed over an 11,000 foot pass — the highest altitude of any place on the InterAmericas highway.

This beautiful lake of clouds dazzled my fancy off to the right. The peak in the middle appears to be a magical and mystical volcano island in the middle of the cloud lake.

The ground below my feet was frosty and icy — it get’s cold up this high, even in Central America.

A slightly closer view of the same cloud lake.

Fifteen minutes later, we stop yet again — this time at an old rock quarry beside the road. These pentagonal columns of volcanic rock are fascinating. Thousands and thousands of separate little columns (lying sideways), each and every one of them having five sides …

By shortly after 8:00 a.m., we were in the Xela area, but we sidetracked again, this time so that Keith could show me this interesting old church — beautifully decorated in a very unique way.

I’ll let you make your own interpretations regarding what you are seeing … I simply found this fascinating.

A couple of the figures with angelic wings flying on the facade of the church.

I didn’t have time for a good camera angle … but I got a real giggle out of seeing this little piggy going to market, with a leash tied around his neck.

Shortly after 10:00 a.m., Keith is busy checking out bags of cacao beans in the large (massive actually) outdoor market at Xela.

Me as a professional model, showing off my cacao beans just like Vanna White might do if she were here …

Shortly after 1:00 p.m., as we finally drove away from the outdoor market, we passed near this Mormon Temple that is still under construction. Given my Mormon roots, I found this fascinating …

Sorry, but I did not take any more photos during the Xela trip … you can read all about it in my “Surrendering to Love” blog …

Sweet Little Sharonski

If you read my “Sharonski” blog entry, you know that I did an amazing amount of inner child work during the week that Sharon lived with me — and Sharon turned out to be the perfect mirror for the little three-year-old girl who was locked away in my solar plexus.

I couldn’t resist adding a few of these photos where Sharon is pretending to be my little three year old, snuggled away in her bed …

How cute she is …

Darling giggles …

The two of us together …

I love this one … I miss you Sharon.

Lunar Ecllipse

In case you didn’t get to see the beautiful lunar eclipse in the morning of December 21, I am throwing in a few of my own photos.

Taken at 1:34 a.m. (2:34 a.m. eastern time), just before the earth’s shadow fully consumed the moon.

Taken five minutes later, as the moon is now fully engulfed in the eclipse.

Tina and Holly, sitting out watching the moon at 1:45 a.m.

Tina and I, a few minutes later. I went to bed shortly after these photos were taken …

DayTrip to a Mayan Ceremonial Cave

Later that same day, on the morning of the Winter Solstice (Dec 21), Keith guided a group of us to go for a visit to a small ceremonial cave high on a hillside overlooking Lake Atitlan, just north of Panajachel.

While waiting for our lancha (boat) at the San Marcos dock, I snapped this photo. The large black things at the right side of the photo are portions of a wall that used to be the lower end of the property of the Posada Schuman — a little hotel where I have stayed a couple of times in May and June. The high lake levels have completely destroyed the wall. The old boat docks are still about 12 feet underwater …

In this photo … beautiful Avril.

We have already journeyed across the lake in our lancha. After arriving in Panajachel, we caught a fifteen minute ride on what the foreigners call a “chicken bus” — an old school bus. While I have never seen chickens in these buses (I have not ridden them all that much), I have indeed seen chickens being transported around the lake in the lanchas.

There must have been around 80 of us crowded into that small nine-bench school bus — a bus that seems to have been designed to hold 36 passengers.

After the bus ride (cost was 25 cents), we were dropped off at the top of this beautiful hill overlooking the lake. The previous photo of Avril was taken in this same spot.

Below is gorgeous view of Panajachel, nestled between the mountains and Lake Atitlan. This is the town that I usually go to when I need to get money from an ATM, or when I need to purchase food basics.

Keith with a woman named Ani. (I hope I spelled that right??) Over Ani’s right shoulder is Avril, taking a photo of her own.

Rebecca, Avril, and Brendon.

To get to the cave, we had to walk down a steep path. This part was paved and not-so-steep. It got much more difficult further down.

In the distance you can see the San Pedro volcano, on the far western end of the lake. San Marcos is nearer to that end of the lake, on the right …

I quickly ran down to the front of our group and captured this hurried photo.

Left (front) to right:  Keith, Brendon, Rebecca, Avril, Ani, and Steve

Near the bottom of the paved path, we stopped by a home and hired a couple of Mayan youth to be our guides. Five children ended up tagging along. Keith tells us that the “bandidos” will not rob us if they see us supporting the local children …

This is the front of the cave … it doesn’t look like much, and is only perhaps 50 feet deep. The entire interior of the cave is covered with thick soot. Fires and candles are burning in here on a very regular basis.

When we entered, there was one Mayan man performing some type of ceremony at the far back corner of the cave. Keith warned us to not take photos of anyone else’s ceremonies — so as not to invade their privacy …

I lit these seven candles … two of the Mayan youth helped me get them to stand up in the sooty ash-covered rock …

Keith took this photo for me … a silhouette  of me standing near the entrance of the cave, looking out at Panajachel and Lake Atitlan below …

This young Mayan girl (14 years old) took good care of me. She followed me around, sat with me, talked to me, and held my hand during the difficult parts of the climb to and from the cave.

Her name is Sulma.

I love this photo of Keith, pondering while staring off into the distance, looking out the entrance of the cave …

Ani, sitting in a different part of the cave, having her own fun with the Mayan children …

Rebecca and Brendon, doing their own little ceremony …

A beautiful profile of Avril sitting on a rock inside the cave … Panajachel and Lake Atitlan in the background …

Me with my little guides – Sulma and her sister Gladis.

Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve, I was delighted to receive an invitation to spend time with Isaias and his extended family. Isaias is a wonderful young man, Keith’s helper in the cacao world.

In this photo, many of the children are setting of firecrackers. I almost deleted the photo because of its dark aspect, and because of all of the spots. Then I checked my camera lens and noted that it was not dirty. All of the little spots are orbs that showed up in the photos when I used a flash.

Each of the photos has them in different spots, so I know these are not spots on my lens.

The children love to set off firecrackers around Christmas and New Years.

Several of the children preparing to light more firecrackers. Rather than using matches, they use a stick with glowing ashes to light the fuses.

Again, this photo shows more of the orbs.

A darling little girl with her Christmas Sparklers

Two of the beautiful young women who were there. I believe they are Isaias’s neices. The one in orange is named Angela. I met her a week earlier at Keith’s home — I was doing silly magic tricks with her and her younger brother.

Keith walking with some of the children. They are dragging him down the path to a nearby tienda (small store) where he can buy them some more firecrackers.

Again, I am fascinated by the orbs. Sorry that this is out of focus …

Angela, getting ready to light one of her firecrackers, using the hot glowing ashes on the end of the stick in her left hand.

Yippee … I actually managed to catch a photo of the firecracker exploding … again there are a few more orbs.

A smiling Isaias, with the remains of his delicious tamale still in front of him. He is playing with the remote, adjusting the volume of the movie “The Polar Express”

To The Yoga Farm

Ever since mid summer, I have been hearing people talk about a place across the lake — a place called the yoga farm. Several times I have almost gone out there to check it out — but the trip never happened until the day after Christmas.

Keith was asked to perform a chocolate ceremony at the Yoga Farm, and he invited me to come along to assist. We left at 7:00 a.m., and did not return until well after dark.

After a short boat ride to San Pedro, we then walked to the far side of town where we caught another boat destined for Santiago. This will be my first trip to the south side of Lake Atitlan. Santiago is on the other side of the San Pedro Volcano, in the southwestern corner of the lake.

This is the closest I have ever been to the San Pedro volcano …

The boat we were on was a little larger than the others on which I have ridden in Lake Atitlan.

In this photo, I am looking toward the front of the boat, with the back side of Keith’s head in the seat in front of me.

Looking back at San Pedro as we pull away from shore on the south side of town.

A beautiful view looking across the lake toward San Marcos. The tiny volcano-like hill in the left-center, just above water’s edge, is the place where I used to go hiking and meditating — the same place from which I once took a few ariel shots of San marcos.

To the right of the little hill, up on the mountain side is “barrio 1″. Behind and also left of the hill is “barrio 2″. The word Barrio is kind of like “neighborhood”. Between Barrio 1 and 2, all the way down the the lake shore, is Barrio 3. All three barrios are part of San Marcos. Keith’s home is near the lake, over on the right side of the photo. I currently live in the middle of town, in Barrio 3. You cannot see it in this photo.

I included this photo for no good reason — other than the fact that I loved this beautiful old tree dominating this portion of the shoreline below the San Pedro volcano.

And I could not resist snapping this photo of a beautiful waxing gibbbous moon above the San Pedro volcano.

Another view of the beautiful San Pedro volcano. The moon is just behind the tip of the peak.

Approaching Santiago — my first time ever visiting this beautiful little town.

Our little lancha (boat) is pulling up to the dock.

The cute little harbor in Santiago.

The next leg of our adventure involved another fifteen minute boat ride across a small bay, further behind the San Pedro volcano.

Here, we are pulling up to the dock at the yoga farm. A small dog waits to greet us.

We end up having a beautiful chocolate ceremony in the outdoor palapa (grass-roof circular structure) just up from the dock.

Looking back toward the dock. The beautiful Atitlan volcano towers above.

Keith, prepared for the ceremony to begin, waiting to measure out our doses of raw cacao disolved in hot water …

Five of the beautiful women at the ceremony. I hope I have their names right (I know my spelling is probably wrong) … Left to right are: C.J. (Ananda), Blair, Randi, Kristina, and Krista

C.J. is my friend from San Marcos — the same one that I introduced to Keith, the same one who helped me to discover my three-year-old inner child hidden in my solar plexus — the same beautiful friend who co-owns a retreat center in Mexico.

Looking back at Santiago from the dock of the Yoga Farm, as Keith and I prepare to begin our late-afternoon journey back to San Marcos.

One last look back at the Yoga Farm as we pull away. What a beautiful location. There is no electricity or water here. They have a small solar-powered generator that allows them to recharge cell phones and computers (one at a time) — so the people staying here can do a little outside communication if they have a GSM (cell-phone) modem.

After arriving back in Santiago, we had to wait nearly an hour for our 5:00 p.m. boat — so we explored a little of the town — visiting this old church and strolling through an outdoor market. I loved the blue-corn tortillas that we purchased.

On the ride back to San Pedro, Keith and I sat on top of the boat, with these three beautiful people. San Marcos is straight ahead, just behind the point of land that blocks the view as it descends into the lake on the left.

The man in the blue shirt on the left is Frank — the owner of a hotel/restaurant here in San Marcos. I have had a lot of fun talking computer technical stuff with him. He is in the process of setting up a higher-speed network with wireless — something I hope to take advantage of if he ever gets it up and running. Maybe soon :)

A last view of Santiago as we pull away, shortly after 5:00 p.m.

Beautiful evening scenery as we begin to pass beside the San Pedro volcano.

My Beautiful Apartment

I have never officially posted any photos of my apartment here in San Marcos. I decided it is time to share a few visual images …

This is the building in which I live. The main path to the boat dock runs along the building, taking a 90 degree turn at the right side of the photo. This is the north side of the building. The lake is below to the left. My little two-bedroom apartment is on the second floor. In fact, the wooden shutters at the top right are  for the bedroom window where I now sleep.

This is another view of my building, looking from the south toward the west side of the builing. The lake is behind me. The previous photo was taken on the far corner of the building. My old bedroom window, the one with the bees, is at the top left of this photo. My stairway rises to the right, just through the gate by the electrical meters.

This is the stairway leading up to my second floor entrance/balcony/patio. These steps are very narrow. I have to be quite focused and conscious, especially when descending this staircase.

This is a view from my patio. The banana trees in the middle are now my friends. Claudio began building the small home to the left about a month after Sandra and I moved in.

If you see the orange-ish wall in the right center, that is the wall of the paco Real hotel (owned by Frank in a previous photo). This wall is along the narrow path (cobblestone) that leads down to the lake perhaps 150 yards away. 

Another view from the balcony, this one showing more of the little home that is under construction. The little home is now two stories tall, still missing a roof. Claudio tells me it will be finished in another month. I am not sure if I believe that is possible … The little home will mostly block my view of the lake.

Sandra playing with my little laptop on our porch.

 The living room area. That sofa over there is the box springs of a twin bed — very hard and uncomfortable. The wooden chairs to the right are also extremely uncomfortable. The cushions are not cushions at all. They are matted up lumpy organic material of some type.

But hey, it looks nice.

The big boom box is never used. It belongs to the owner. Sandra and I like to listen to music on our IPODS, using the two computer speakers perched on top of the Jaguar puzzle on the table in the middle of the room.

This is the kitchen area — a table, a fridge, and a table-top four-burner gas stove.  Sorry that it is a little messy in this photo LOL.

This is all part of the same large room as the living room area — no walls or dividers — and absolutely no cupboards for storing food and dishes etc…

The wooden door behiind the fridge leads to a small bathroom.

This is the bedroom in which I slept when Sandra was here with me. It is perhaps twelve feet square, with a twin bed, a large hutch for storing clothes, and a tiny end table with lamp.

When Sandra left, I decided to switch to the other bedroom. It is the same size, but has a second twin bed on which I can store things — and the mirrors on the hutch are not as foggy LOL. The best part about this other bedroom is a larger table. The worst is that it is adjacent to a one bedroom apartment next door — and the noise comes right through the walls.

The jaguar puzzle that Sandra and I put together.

During one of my trips to Panajachel in early December, I found a box of Christmas lights for sale — 100 lights for 20 Quetzales (about $2.50 US). I could not resist.

I have been listening to Christmas music while staring at the beautiful lights on my outside window.

During that same shopping trip to Panajachel, I found this luxurious Christmas Tree. It stands about nine inches tall, and sits proudly on my living room table. I have yet to take it down … too much work to remove all of the decorations etc… LOL

They call these little guys “wolf Spiders”. Usually, they hang out on the walls. I am told they are harmless, and help keep other insects away. This little guy wandered by on my floor one day … begging me to take his photo …

The soon-to-be-lost view of the lake from my porch. I cannot really see it this clearly. This photo is zoomed-in using my camera lense. If you look at the left and right edges of the photo, you can see the block roof-peaks of the home being built in the yard below. When the roof is in place, my view will be gone.

An actual-size view from my doorway. You can see the progress on the home being built below, and can see that my view is really distant …

Happy New Year

I want to wish everyone a wonderful and Happy New Year. I cannot believe that this year has zoomed by so quickly … and that I am alreay in my ninth month here in Guatemala. Wow, how time flies …

Copyright © 2011 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

October 15, 2009 Sailing Trip 

This is the beautiful little sailboat on which we explored the coastline, all the way to the southern end of Cozumel.

My friend JayDee standing on the boat.

Our ship captain and a few of the ladies. At this point we were a short distance south of the Puerta Maya Cruise ship terminal. A Carnival cruise liner can be seen in the distance.

A group of diving boats gathered in one of many popular diving locations–waiting for their happy passengers to resurface after playing in the depths.

A zoomed in photo of Chankanaab from the ocean side. This is the first place near which I snorkeled on the island in June. This is where the dolphins were swimming around in the fenced off area beneath and behind the pier.

I just love this small beach home. Anyone want to go in with me to purchase it?

This is the area called “Cielos” (sky) where we snorkeled first. It is filled with huge starfish–thus the name.

This is the resort I stayed at in December, 2007. It is on the southwest end of the island of Cozumel.

October 31,2009 – visit to XCARET for Dia De Los Muertos Celebration

This is one of many fun scenes that I snapped while just walking around the park.

A picture of Michiko and I, attempting to look a little “Yucatan.” This was the fourth day of my food poisoning episode, and my stomach was still quite weak.

Several dancers preparing to perform. Notice the painted face of the lady in the middle.

Another fun painted face.

Just me, hanging out with a few of my “Conchero” friends.

A large variety of these interesting warriors lined the gallery leading into the area where we watched the big “spectacular” show.

Xcaret treated us to their “Spectacular” — an incredible theatre/dance performance portraying the history of Mexico from early Aztec/Mayan days up to modern times. The second half of the show featured cultural dances from all over Mexico. Following photos are a small sampling of the program.

Preparing for the “ball game” – a game where these warriors demonstrated hitting a rubber ball around this ancient court, without using their hands or feet.

As you can see by the size of the man on the right, these creatures were quite tall.

This is one of many grave markers on a permanent attraction at Xcaret. A small hill, topped with sacred sable trees is lined with a circular winding path containing 365 graves. During this festival, the graves are decorated with lights and offerings. Under this hill are recreations of typical caves that can be explored.

November 8, 2009 – The edge of Hurricane Ida

The ferry dock was completely desered. Normally, several ferries are parked here. It is very unusual to have any wave activity here. The surf was quite strong compared to normal.

A picture of the sea wall along the waterfront street. Notice the blowing trees on the left and the waves on the right. The winds felt as if they were around 30 mph, and the surf was frequently crashing into the seawall, sending waves, sand, seaweed, and gravel onto the street above.

This little pier was constantly being swamped by high surf. Many times I watched it completely disappear under the surging waters.

A picture of more waves on the southern side of the ferry terminal.

A small fishing boat tied up in the foreground. Waves crashing down in the distance.

More of the same.

More waves crashing into this little boat/fishing pier.

Lots of seaweed was washing up on the surface. It remained in the protected area of the shore for many days. Normally, there is no such seaweed along these shores.

If you look closely, you can see a little two-foot crocodile that was struggling against the surf. This was near the ferry terminal. A group of onlookers gathered to watch this little guy struggle to get away from the turbulent waters near the shore.

Last week, as Eduardo and I finished our final Bach Flower Therapy session, he informed me that he was feeling guided to perform one final energy blessing.

“Before you leave next week, you will come back one more time.” Eduardo began. “I will surround you with the energy of the ‘Fleur-De-Lis’ and imprint the flower’s energy on your soul—kind of like an energetic tattoo.”

This morning I called to check on Eduardo’s schedule, eager to schedule this final appointment. Ten minutes later, I found myself lying on his treatment table in the shaded open air of his beautiful roof. Eduardo’s love for plants was all around me. His roof and yard are like a beautiful botanical garden. An unexpected morning shower briefly cooled the morning air as we began our spiritual session together.

As we finished the prayerful and meditative ceremony, Eduardo paused before telling me that there was yet another ceremony that he felt inspired to perform on me. As I lay peacefully on his table, Eduardo began to talk to me while he worked.

“You know Brenda … you are struggling with fear … not fear of doing things … not fear of things happening to you … but fear of yourself.”

Tears began to uncontrollably stream down my cheeks—tears of acknowledgment that Eduardo had touched on a painful truth. I have felt overly tired for several days, wondering what is wrong with me, feeling spiritually and physically stuck—wanting to move on to my next adventure, but seeming to find any and every excuse to remain here in Cozumel just another few days.

I truly am not afraid of external things happening to me—but at a very subconscious level I seem to be afraid to step out of my comfort zone. I am standing at the edge of a thick but beautiful fog, knowing I want to step into the unknown—but still doubting myself and my abilities.

Eduardo continued his loving words.

“Brenda, as we say here in Mexico, you need to ‘dejate en paz’ (leave yourself in peace), to stop beating yourself up. It is time for you branch out on your next incredible journey—time to quit avoiding and delaying.”

Tears again resumed their flow down the sides of my cheeks as I lay silently, still flat on my back with my eyes closed. As Eduardo continued to work his magic on me, I could feel the aliveness of my spirit once again beginning to dance in my mind’s awareness. The feeling was so relaxing and peaceful that I drifted off into a deep meditative state.

After perhaps twenty minutes of silently enjoying the peace, I barely opened one eye and was surprised to realize I was alone. Eduardo had disappeared without making a sound.

Closing my eyes again, I resumed my deep meditative state while wondering what to do next. Soon, I began to occasionally open my eyes, ever so slightly, still enjoying the peace while glancing around to look for Eduardo.

Minutes later, I finally glimpsed movement in the corner of my right eye and turned my head enough to witness Eduardo carrying a twelve-inch start of a small Sable tree. I quietly observed him reverently carry the small sapling over to the edge of his roof next to a large Sable tree in his back yard. For a few brief moments Eduardo touched the leaves of the tiny tree to the leaves of the larger tree, connecting the energy of the two. Then Eduardo walked toward me and resumed his seat at my side.

With my eyes mostly closed, I noticed that Eduardo had wrapped the roots of the small tree in a canvas-colored green cotton fabric and was carefully tying the fabric at the top with a piece of white cloth.

The sable tree is a very sacred tree in the Mayan and Yucatan traditions. After my first Temazcal with Eduardo, when we all jumped into the sacred pool of dark amber-colored water—it was the holy Sable tree whose large roots had tinted the water. It was at that Temazcal where Eduardo had first explained to me the sacred nature of these beautiful Sable trees.

A few weeks ago, Eduardo had proudly showed me a small plastic gardening flat on his roof where he had a large gathering of tiny but healthy Sable saplings. He had planted them from seed, and was lovingly nurturing them to the point that he could begin planting them at various locations around the island of Cozumel.

After finishing our spiritual energy work, Eduardo told me, “Brenda, I feel inspired to give you some homework. I am giving you this baby Sable tree as an assignment. You will take it with you too the mainland, and you will look for the ideal spot to plant it. When you find such a spot, you will bless and dedicate the site and plant this sacred tree.”

Continuing on, Eduardo told me, “And when you return to Cozumel, before going back to the United States, you will come back and I will give you another sable tree to take home with you, after which you will select another location to plant that tree.”

Tears of gratitude again resumed as I looked Eduardo in the eye and asked him if he would relay a message to his wife for me.

“Can you please tell your wife how incredibly grateful I am?” I asked.

“You can tell her yourself,” he replied, as he lovingly called down to his wife, asking her if she would join us on the roof.

As Eduardo’s wife sat down on the narrow wooden bench beside her husband, I stared into her eyes, searching for the appropriate words to convey my deep emotions.

“I am so grateful to you,” I began, “for loving and trusting Eduardo so much … for trusting me … for allowing Eduardo to spend such a great deal of time spiritually connecting with me and teaching me.”

By now, trying to hold back my tears was a lost cause. After a short conversation, the three of us walked down the stairs, back to ground level and my bicycle.

“Can I have a hug before I go?” I asked them both.

Soon, I was sharing one last huge embrace with each of my dear friends. Then, accompanied by a confusing combination of both joy and sadness, I reluctantly hopped onto my bicycle, beginning to pedal away. After about twenty feet I looked momentarily back. Eduardo and his wife were standing together watching me. The three of us exchanged one brief wave goodbye before I again turned forward, resuming my journey into the future.

Hurricane Excitement

These past few days have been quite the adventure into anticipation and excitement. When I moved to Cozumel in June, I was quite aware that I would be here throughout the entire hurricane season. While I would never wish a large destructive storm on anyone, I have secretly hoped to have an opportunity to experience the energy of a large storm while in Cozumel.

I have always been a storm chaser at heart. For as long as I can remember, the energies of wind, heavy rain, lightning, and thunder have always energized on my soul. As October drifted into the history books, so did the official hurricane season. While taking a few extra days to finish writing and recuperating from my food poisoning, I was totally surprised last week when a rare late-season storm, Hurricane Ida, began crashing its way into the eastern shores of Nicaragua.

As the storm headed north through Nicaragua and Honduras, it quickly diminished in strength to nothing but a Tropical Depression, but every forecast predicted that it would quickly regain strength once reaching the open waters of the Caribbean—and the vast majority of predicted paths had Ida heading right towards Cozumel. For sure Ida would regain tropical storm status, with estimates predicting that Ida might very possibly regain hurricane status.

Originally, I had planned to be leaving Cozumel by around Saturday, but with the storm predicted to hit the area on Sunday, I was not going anywhere­—for a variety of reasons. First of all, my excitement and anticipation got the best of me. I simply wanted to be here to experience the energetic possibilities. Second, I am house-sitting and dog-sitting for my friend JayDee. Yes, another friend will come over to feed the dogs when I leave, but my heart reasoned that if a severe storm were to hit, the dogs would need me to stay with them—and the house would need a full-time resident to monitor wind and flooding. Third, the passenger ferries were shut down on Saturday, and did not restart until late Sunday afternoon. I could not have left on Saturday even if I had wanted to.

By Friday night, Ida had quickly regained tropical storm status, and was still headed for the general area of Cozumel. Throughout the day on Saturday, I frequently monitored hurricane reports on several web sites, watching satellite images, tracking charts, and wind speeds as they gradually inched back toward hurricane status.

Realizing that JayDee’s home was not prepared for strong winds and rain, I called my friend Sheila asking for advice and help. She had just barely returned from her Spanish school in Nicaragua. The two of us spent five hours together, wind-proofing JayDee’s backyard, bringing buckets of water into the shower for flushing toilets, locating a large floor squeegee, making sure I had flashlights and candles, and discussing overall hurricane strategy.

In addition to talking about her recent experiences in Nicaragua, the two of us had some great discussions about her experiences living through Hurricane Wilma, just four years ago. That massive category 5 hurricane sat right on top of Cozumel for 52 hours with continuous sustained winds of 185 mph. Sheila told me her adventures of having large amounts of water blowing in through her second story windows, sending water cascading down her stairs into her lower levels. She told me of waves as high as sixty feet, causing massive storm damage throughout the area, especially along the shorelines.

To top off our afternoon together, the two of us went over to the Mega store to do a little grocery shopping. The store was more crowed than usual. The bread aisle was quite depleted, but there seemed to be plenty of food left, and no one seemed to be panicking.

With mixed emotions, I closely tracked the storm through much of Saturday evening. Ida had regained “Category 1” hurricane status, but predictions were now estimating that it would pass slightly to the east of Cozumel. Nevertheless, emergency alerts on television still showed hurricane warnings and watches for Playa Del Carmen northward. The center of the hurricane was expected to pass closest to Cozumel at around 6:00 a.m. on Sunday morning.

Saturday evening, the whole area was eerily quiet–no wind, no rain, no hint at all of a pending storm—other than the fact that the city was shut down. Bars and restaurants were ordered to close by 11:00 p.m., and the streets were empty. All ferry boats had left the island completely. All other boats that were normally anchored along the shoreline were noticeably missing. Even with the cautionary preparations, however, no one was alarmed enough to put any boards over doors or windows. Just four years ago, the local people had survived the worst category 5 hurricane in recorded history. Little Ida, while still potentially dangerous, didn’t seem to have many people in a heightened state of alert.

I slept lightly all night long, constantly expecting to hear the onslaught of torrential rains and strong winds at any moment—but there was nothing, absolutely nothing. As I looked out my windows at 6:00 a.m., the trees were just barely moving, and only a few scattered sprinkles were falling from the sky. The core of the hurricane was seventy miles to the east, so I was not expecting ninety mph winds—yet all forecasts still called for tropical storm strength winds to reach well beyond one hundred miles.

A quick check of radar tracking maps showed the area of high winds barely approaching the edge of Cozumel, but not quite penetrating the island’s boundaries.

Intrigued by the silence, my curiosity was calling out for exploration. By 9:00 a.m., I was on my bicycle, exploring the waterfront. Along the shorelines, the winds seemed to be coming from the west-northwest with sustained force that I would estimate as being between twenty and thirty mph. The water levels seemed to be several feet higher than normal, and wave activity was considerable.

All along the seawall, unusually strong waves were cresting and crashing—frequently sending powerful sprays of white churning salt water pouring over the top of the wall up and onto the street. In many places where there were openings in the wall, piles of brown slimy seaweed had washed up onto the road and sidewalks. Accompanying the seaweed were several inches of sand, gravel, and even rocks as big as baseballs.

I watched with fascination as waves completely engulfed a small fishing pier, momentarily swallowing it until the water pulled back, once again returning the sturdy structure to the realm of the visible world.

Just north of the ferry dock, a group of local people gathered along the seawall, watching something with intense interest. Eager to discover the focus of their fascination, I joined the crowd and soon witnessed a small skinny crocodile, perhaps two feet long, struggling against the powerful surf. The little crocodile never gave up. He repeatedly struggled to swim out to sea, just beginning to make measurable progress, only to be mercilessly thrust backward by the wild churning waters. 

A quick glance at the skies to my right revealed an ominous scene. As I looked out in the direction of Cancun the clouds were dark and threatening, obscuring the turbulence that was going on behind their veil. As I glanced to my left, glimpses of bright blue sky poked through on the distant horizon to the south, bringing hope and promise of new beginnings.

The waves and moderate winds continued to pound the eastern shores throughout the afternoon. Being energized by the scene, I set out on a two hour bicycle ride—quite possibly my last ride on the island. Nostalgically, I repeated the exact same ride that I had made on the day I purchased my bicycle in late June. Riding southward along the coast, while paying attention to every beautiful detail, I explored all the way to Chankanaab and back.

At the end of my journey, as I coasted back through the center of town, I noticed that the ferries to Playa Del Carmen appeared to have resumed service. While the waters were still rough, the seas were beginning to once again be manageable.

Last night, as I lay on JayDee’s sofa to briefly rest, I was overcome by sheer exhaustion. A short nap turned into an all night crash. Even though my mind and heart are anxious to move into the next phase of my journey, my body was saying “Whoa, slow down Brenda, get some rest.”

People Wrap Up

For the most part, I think my writings have maintained a fairly accurate and up-to-date account of ongoing relationships and interactions with dear friends such as Eduardo, Rafael, and Michiko. I have repeatedly written of my deep love and gratitude for these incredible friends.

But there are a few people who have played into my story, about whom I have not written in quite some time.

First and foremost is Berto. For some strange and unknown reason, our paths have not crossed since the two times I bumped into him toward the end of August. I find Berto’s absence from the scene quite curious, given that I once expected his presence to be a more integral part of the story. Even so, he has continued to play an indirect role.

I am not sure if I wrote this earlier, but during my 2007 trip to Cozumel, Rafael had a subservient working relationship with Berto. At the time that Rafael referred me for the timeshare tour, I was just recently unemployed. When Berto found out, he was livid and angry at Rafael for having referred me for the tour anyway. I won’t go into any inflammatory details, other than to say that after I left, Berto provided Rafael with some great forgiveness opportunities.

As Rafael and I discussed what had occurred, I could see that Rafael still struggled with letting go of some of the past hurt and resentment. I explained to Rafael about what a key role Berto had played in the inspiration that brought me back to Cozumel, and explained that everything has a purpose. All of the events that happened back in 2007 needed to take place, and it all had a rippling effect that put us exactly where we needed to be today.

I also told Rafael of my personal belief that “Berto was just doing his part to create forgiveness and growth opportunities for both of us.”

So there you have it. Even though I haven’t seen Berto in quite some time, his presence has continued to play a very real role in the story—presenting ongoing opportunities to practice forgiveness and unconditional love.

I haven’t had any face-to-face interaction with Arturo since he took me to see the “Brujo” (witch doctor) in September. Even so, we remain occasional email and Facebook friends, and I definitely see the friendship continuing into the future, at least on a casual basis.

Dear sweet Miguel and I have not talked for almost two weeks. When I said my goodbyes to him at the end of October, I fully expected to be leaving within a few days. As we shared our final conversation, Miguel gave me his phone number and I promised him that I will look him up whenever I return to Cozumel—a commitment that I will definitely keep.

Given the fact that he does not do email, I do not foresee a great deal of future contact with Miguel, but I will be forever grateful for the lessons in language and communication that blessed my life as a result of our many interactions together.

I am filled with gratitude for my new American friends here in Cozumel, especially JayDee and Sheila. For some reason, when I first moved to Cozumel, I also found myself sinking deeply back “into the closet”—fighting a variety of mild fears about what would happen if I shared my life secrets with new friends in a small city of a foreign country.

One of many great blessings from my journey of the past four months is the realization that I can indeed be my true self no matter where I go in the world. Again and again over the past few years, I have learned that being genuine and open attracts others who share the same unconditionally loving energy. I am so grateful for my loving friends.

Reports of My Death Are Highly Premature

I hesitate to write about this next experience—not wanting to alarm or scare anyone in any way—but a feeling tells me this experience is important and relevant to the story that I want to share.

Two days ago, I had a very interesting and inspiring conversation with my dear friend Rose back in Utah. During the course of our discussion, she gradually hinted at a powerful experience she had just a couple of days earlier.

Rose was extremely hesitant to give me any detail or specifics. I lovingly probed and continuously reassured her that I am ready to hear anything. Finally, after considerable resistance, Rose finally agreed to open up and share.

My dear friend Rose was sitting quietly by herself in her living room back in Utah. Suddenly, she realized she had been given a peaceful glimpse of my body lying in a casket. Rose, Lori, and Jeanette were at my viewing, standing over in the corner, peacefully reminiscing about our incredible growth and times spent together.

Rose proceeded by telling me that my dear friends were blessed with an extremely peaceful feeling about my passing—knowing that I had lived a full life and had completed the work that I had come to do. I had followed my heart to the fullest, sharing a beautiful example for others to follow, living on the edge, inspiring others, honoring my inner truth.

Rose made it very clear that there were no timeframes whatsoever in her vision. Throughout our lengthy discussion, a deep sense of peace and confidence continued to exude from my soul.

“Rose,” I began to explain to her, “For several years now I have had very strong promptings that I will live a very long and healthy mortal existence. That sense of knowing remains strongly and peacefully rooted in my very being. There are so many things that my heart tells me are yet to happen before my work here is complete. Nevertheless, I am at peace with whatever occurs because I know I am following my heart—following pure inspiration. If something were to happen to me, I want you to know that I am fully OK with that. I know that nothing can ever harm my soul, nothing can destroy who I really am.”

Both Rose and I felt deep peace as we carried this conversation forward. While we talked, a strong sense of knowing permeated my soul that Rose’s waking dream was figurative and not literal.

“In many real ways,” I explained to her, “the old me, the old relationships as we knew them in the past, are indeed dead. I have grown and changed so much while in Cozumel that the old me, my old life, will never be the same.”

During subsequent inspired conversation, both Rose and I felt very deeply that we are all being prepared to stand on our own feet, to launch forward into new growth, into our own individual journeys. Our bonds are so deep and close that we will never be more than a phone call away—but the days of the four of us hanging out on a frequent basis are most likely in the past.

In many ways, the conversation deepened my commitment to my present path. I have no idea where my journey is taking me. I can only imagine and speculate as to the incredible gifts that await me as I progress down the journey of practicing and learning unconditional love.

Yes, I am forever grateful that the old me, my old identity, is gradually withering away, fading into the nothingness from where it originated. That part of me is indeed dying. The new emerging me is so alive with love and possibilities that I cannot imagine turning around and returning to my old life. Yes, I still have many ups and downs, but I have come too far down my path to ever consider going back. I am deeply committed to my journey of awakening.

The Journey

Early last week (several days before her waking dream), Rose called me, exuding a very excited energy.

“Oh Brenda,” she began, “I found this poem today that was calling out your name with every word. It describes everything about you and what you are doing with your life. I have to read it to you.”

With intense reverence, I listened as Rose read the powerful words with deep passion and emotion. The message of these words resonated within my soul, sending vibrating energetic tingles throughout my spine.

Today, as I am on the very edge of completing my journey in Cozumel, preparing to launch out into another adventure into the great unknown, I would love to share these amazing words with you.

Pay attention to the punctuation as you read. This is the exact format in which Mary Oliver wrote her poem. The punctuation will help add emphasis where it is needed.

The Journey
By: Mary Oliver

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
Though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

Yes, one day I did wake up and know what I have to do. My heart is alive with the energy and purpose of my journey. I cannot even imagine being anywhere else, doing anything else, being anyone else. My new voices are so strong and beautiful that I could never ever be content with going back to an old way of living, to an old way of perceiving and thinking.

As the stars in my life continue to burn brighter, I am fully committed, determined to go deeper and deeper into my undoing process. The more I grow and learn, the more I know that my true task is not to save the world or anything in it. My one and only task is to spiritually awaken—to shift my perceptions from fear to love—to save myself—to save the only person I truly have the power to save. 

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

For the most part, my judgment was silent, smugly hidden behind a closed mind. I saw everyone else as separate from me—not quite as good as me. I quietly measured their behavior against my self-imposed perfectionist ideals, silently berating them, dismissing them as weak sinners if they did not measure up. I was striving for perfection, and expected that everyone else should do the same.

Ironically, the biggest target of my judgment was none other than me—myself. As I helplessly struggled with my transgender feelings, always feeling dirty, lost and alone, I condemned myself as being the scum of the earth, perverted and evil, being highly intolerant of what I perceived as horrifying unwanted imperfections within myself.

It was not until my early thirties, as I began to humbly accept the fact that my deeply ingrained transgender feelings were not going away—and that I needed to somehow understand and integrate those feelings into my life—that I began my major shifts with non-judgment.

“How could I ever expect anyone to love and accept me for who I am if I harbor any judgment at all toward them?” I sincerely asked myself.

And how I desperately longed for such unconditional love and acceptance from others during those excruciatingly difficult years!

During my thirties and early forties, I achieved great strides in the race to learn to love myself and others. But again, as I reflect back on those confusing years, I easily recognize that I had barely left the starting gates.

Six years ago, doubling-down on my commitment to learn about unconditional love was the most lucrative bet I ever made in my life. With each lesson in love, the payoffs continue to grow—the joy and peace continue to deepen and strengthen.

With every year that passes I continue to reflect back on incredible growth, only to realize that my quest is still in its infancy. The more I learn, the more I recognize how little I actually know. The amazing beauty of each lesson pulls me forward as I anxiously and eagerly seek out my next one.

For several weeks now, I have been reflecting very deeply on my most recent lessons about unconditional love, lessons I have learned right here in Cozumel. But in order to talk about those lessons, I first need to lay some framework on the subject of privilege.

Implicit Privilege

I hesitate to continue writing. I want to be very clear in my intentions with the next few paragraphs. By bringing up this topic, my only desire is to lay a framework on which to discuss my own personal healing insights about learning to love unconditionally.

It is my belief that all true change is internal, happening only within our own minds. I am not interested in pushing external social reform, or taking sides in any political debates—but I would love to be responsible for helping to inspire others to consider making their own internal mind shifts—shifting fearful and judgmental thoughts by replacing them with feelings of unconditional love and understanding. The world becomes a beautiful place when we can lovingly see everyone as our divine equals.

Early in my latest university studies, I participated in a course where we discussed multicultural issues as they related to counseling. During the classes I gained invaluable insights helping me to recognize that in some very subtle ways, throughout my life, I have been judgmental and insensitive to the feelings and experiences of others.

One evening in class we discussed a topic that my professor referred to as “White Privilege.” With deep genuine reflection, I came to realize that all of my life I have indeed enjoyed the subtle blessings that implicitly come with growing up white—blessings that I had never thought about or recognized. Certain opportunities and status were implicitly granted to me simply because I was born with a certain skin color. As I imagined walking in the shoes of others, I began to recognize my subtle judgments, and the daily uphill battle that many people face in their journey of simply striving to be treated as an equal.

As I pondered more about privilege, I began to extrapolate the concept to other areas. The first simple example that came to mind was “tall privilege.” It was my experience that tall men seemed to have a tendency to get more visibility and respect. Being short, I often felt as if I were somewhat invisible, and frequently overlooked. It seemed that just to stay even with others, I had to be smarter and work harder.

When I physically transformed into Brenda some thirteen years ago, I was fully aware that my implicit male privileges would be downgraded considerably as I outwardly expressed my female self. Don’t get me wrong—I was treated wonderfully by my employer—yet the usual stereotypes seemed unstoppable. I found it difficult yet fascinating to experience first hand how gender and transgender labels directly affected the way friends and coworkers related to me—even though the real and genuine me inside had never changed at all.

I honestly don’t believe that any of these unspoken privileges are intentionally given to one class of people while being consciously withheld from another. On the contrary, I believe that the whole process stems from an unconscious process focused on instinctual self-preservation and maintaining the status quo.

Those who have been blessed with the power and the privileges are usually clueless about their implicit status, while those without the privilege often struggle beyond the point of deep frustration in their attempts to simply be treated as equals.

I was certainly oblivious to my own privileged status during most of my life. Along with my “cluelessness” came a certain sense of judgment and smugness that others should just quit whining and work as hard as I had worked. If I had not lost many of those same privileges myself, I may have never been capable of recognizing that such privileges even exist.

A few weeks ago I experienced deep emotions of sadness as I read a few comments on a social web site. The sentiment of what I read was that a few people blessed with great medical insurance coverage were looking down on and judging others, who for no fault of their own were unable to acquire affordable coverage. The attitude expressed was almost “gee, it sucks to be you … I’m sorry you are struggling and can’t get insurance … but don’t mess with me and my coverage … it’s your problem … you just have to suck it up and deal with it.”

Interestingly, the same insensitive comments could have been made by me just a few years back. Today, I have now reached a point in my life where I can no longer purchase affordable coverage for myself. I am grateful that, after losing yet another privilege, I am finally blessed with the ability to see this issue from multiple viewpoints.

Remember, I am not endorsing any political position here—rather I am endorsing love and understanding. No matter which side of the healthcare debate you embrace, please, remember that the people on the other side are divine beings who deserve our love and understanding.

Another hot topic that tugs deeply at my emotions is that of the basic human equality of my beautiful gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered friends. I recently read an online newspaper report discussing a gay rights issue, following which I scanned through hundreds of reader comments. As I muddled through many of the hateful comments, I struggled to maintain the peaceful role of loving observer. The irony of it all is that just over twenty years ago, I might have been one of the people spouting all of the judgment and condemnation.

I now realize that I was blessed with many implicit societal privileges prior to my own coming out. Along with those privileges came the smug and subtle judgment toward others who were not like me. Perhaps the most humbling thing I ever did was remove myself from that privileged status and openly admit that I am one of the people toward whom my own judgment was formerly directed.

Such hidden threads of subtle privilege intertwine themselves throughout all areas of society in areas such as economic class, sexual orientation, gender, marital/divorce status, employment status, occupation, physical appearance, disabilities, educational levels, religious affiliation, spiritual beliefs, immigration status, languages spoken (or not spoken), weight status (obesity), and age status (elderly).

Throughout much of my life, I have been clueless as to the privileges I have experienced in most of these areas. In very subtle ways, my religious and social upbringing left me believing I had an elevated status—I was led to believe that I belonged to a chosen people living in a chosen land—I was actually taught that I was separate and had an elevated status in God’s eyes.

Today, I shudder as I write those words because I recognize them for the absolute self-righteous lies that they are. Much of my spiritual journey of the last few years—my journey into learning unconditional love—has been all about undoing these old belief systems.

My experiences in Cozumel have been a huge blessing and catalyst in helping me to continue this undoing process.

The Beauty of Sight

After several conversations with Rafael in December of 2007, I struggled to overcome an insidious form of prideful judgment. In those deeply spiritual conversations of two years ago, I noticed that Rafael was presuming to be my teacher. My ego wanted to resist, saying things like “I should be his teacher … he is young … he is Mexican … what can he have to teach me?”

I will be forever grateful that, rather than listen to my ego-filled head, I paid attention to my heart as it resonated very clearly with, “Listen to Rafael … assume a listening and learning role … let him teach you.”

Humbling myself to the role of student, both then and now, was a powerful thing. By so doing, I began to tear down the very subtle privileges and prejudices that still entangled their way through my consciousness. These past four months have brought incredible growth as I have uncovered many old judgments and replaced them with unconditional love.

I’m not saying that national pride is a good or a bad thing. Let’s just say that in my case, my sense of lifelong patriotism had unknowingly evolved into a self-righteous form of near-arrogance.

When Eduardo first told me the stories of Regina, I listened with great interest, but initially thought it quite absurd for him to tell me that a worldwide spiritual awakening could ever begin in Mexico. My sense of smug national arrogance was so entrenched that I found it presumptuous that a “less-advanced” country such as Mexico could claim to be the origin of such a movement.

As I have examined and challenged my former beliefs, I realized that my initial reaction was just the tip of the iceberg—an iceberg covered with ugly attitudes of national superiority. After stripping my pride and humbling myself, I opened my heart and mind to the recognition that anything is possible—that no nation or people has any lock whatsoever on spirituality or love.

And just what really defines “advanced?” Many of my experiences in Cozumel have led me to completely reconsider my definitions.

Through my journey this year, my former sense of “national privilege” has been replaced with a deep sense of healthy love for both the USA and for Mexico. It is amazing how easily old judgment melts away when confronted with a genuinely open and loving mind.

Perhaps my most incredible gift of sight has come as I have learned to love individual people. One by one, stereotypes and sense of privilege have been torn down and replaced with pure love.

I have been blown away by the level of education and intelligence of people like Eduardo, Rafael, Rafael’s teacher, Michiko, Miguel, and Arturo. I will forever remember with deep gratitude the many conversations discussing topics such as philosophy, spirituality, history, world geography, and language. While each of my new friends has gone through vastly differing journeys, they are my equals in every imaginable way. Many subtle prejudices needed to melt away from my heart in order for me to arrive at this destination of love.

Another interesting prejudice that I seem to have been working on is one of gender. Prior to my trip to Cozumel, all of my close friends were female. Amazingly enough, here in Cozumel, my deepest spiritual connections are with male friends.

One of my biggest opportunities to learn love has been in my interactions with the more humble people. Back in the USA, if I had run across a four-foot-tall dark-skinned Mayan woman with wrinkled skin and a toothless grin, the old me would most likely have reacted with very subtle assumptions and judgment. I might have completely overlooked her innate worth, judging her as illiterate and having nothing of importance to share with me.

Now, as a result of my time in Cozumel, I look on such a woman with incredible love. I am fascinated by the life she must have lived. I wonder what stories she could tell about the people and events that have touched her life. I wish I had the opportunity to sit down with her to understand her spiritual beliefs and traditions, her likes and dislikes, her hobbies, her loves and her struggles.

Yes, such a beautiful woman is every bit my equal. I will be eternally grateful for the beautiful gift of sight that has blessed me with the ability to begin seeing people like her more clearly.

The Lenses of Judgment

Judgment is indeed very ironic. We are taught by caretakers that judgment is a good thing—that it helps us to function and to survive in this world. Using judgment and experience we lump everything into categories of good and bad, significant and insignificant, worthy and unworthy—then we tend to superficially dismiss anything in our path that does not match our good labels.

Each judgment, prejudice, and attitude of privilege that we embrace, knowingly or unknowingly, clouds our vision like a thin colored filter placed over our eyes. With every filter, our vision becomes increasingly clouded, and we feel progressively more separate and detached from the world around us.

It is only through finding the courage to challenge our beliefs that we begin to tear down these visual filters. As each filter is peeled away—as unconditional love begins to shine through our eyes and into our hearts—a completely new way of seeing begins to gradually reveal itself.

Yes, as I look to future journeys, my purpose is very clear. My primary goal is to continue developing my capacity to give and to receive unconditional love. The view along my path grows increasingly more beautiful as, one by one, I learn to identify and remove yet another filter that clouds my vision.

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

From a complete stop, this amazing little lizard with his short stubby legs suddenly leaps straight into the air. The jump is timed perfectly. On his way up, his tiny floating body remains perfectly parallel to the ground. After barely clearing the top of the wall, this little acrobat lands casually on top. As if gloating, the little athlete pauses to perform several front legged pushups before disappearing into the inviting branches of the beautiful fern-leafed orange-flowered tree.

The plaza is quiet on this early morning, the sun just barely peaking over the tops of nearby buildings. A small group of pigeons eagerly gather to help me finish off my cinnamon roll. A cool refreshing breeze brings a feeling of new life. A small surge of energy bursts through my spine as I reflect on deep gratitude—gratitude for once again being able to feel that joyful aliveness flowing through my veins—an aliveness that just a few days ago seemed to be worlds away.

System Reboot

It started out as any other Wednesday. After eating a Denver omelet at breakfast with some American friends, I returned home to pack for an afternoon of reading books and/or studying Spanish in Playa Del Carmen. I first noticed something was different as I sat down for an early afternoon lunch at one of my usual spots.

While sipping on my soft drink, I noticed that it seemed sickly sweet. My plate of enchiladas looked downright repulsive. It was not until I began forcing myself to eat that I became distinctly aware of the mild nausea that was already present in my confused body. After forcing half of the meal into my stomach, the rest ended up in the trash.

Not giving much subsequent thought to my stomach upset, I pushed forward with my afternoon plans, finding myself in Playa Del Carmen shortly after 3:00 pm. Sheer exhaustion soon overwhelmed my body, as my unsuccessful attempt to read turned instead into an unplanned nap laying flat on my back in the sand. My body wanted to sleep longer, but I was overwhelmed with a feeling of shivering cold. A cool breeze was blowing, the skies had become overcast, and dark clouds were moving in.

By 5:00 p.m., I was shivering inside Rafael’s restaurant, where I had already waited out the storm that had now both come and gone. But my nausea and chills were getting worse. The air conditioning made me feel extremely uncomfortable, my head felt a little hot, and I was beginning to wonder why everyone else was not acting cold. It was all I could do to sit limply in a corner, holding my stomach, leaning my head against a wall, optimistically expecting both the nausea and the chill to pass very soon.

Finally I gave in to the realization that even if I were to go to the “A Course in Miracles” study group that night, I would be miserable. Not only would I be unable to contribute—I would actually be a distraction to others. Reluctantly I picked up my cell phone, called Michiko, described my physical situation, and told her I was returning to Cozumel on the 6:00 p.m. ferry.

Twenty minutes later I was standing with my bicycle on the pier, waiting for my ferry to arrive, anxiously wondering if I would even be able to make the crossing without losing what little food I had in my stomach. Then the phone rang.

“Hola Brenda,” Eduardo began. “Michiko was quite concerned and called me to let me know that you are sick. I can pick you up at the ferry terminal if you like. We can tie your bicycle to the back of my car and I can drive you home.”

Tears of gratitude began to form in my eyes as I absorbed those kind words into my awareness. I had not yet realized just how alone and helpless I was beginning to feel. Eduardo’s call reminded me that I am not alone. There are many people here on the island that would be more than eager to help me if I were to request their assistance.

“No, I appreciate your offer, but I think I’ll be fine. I still feel strong enough to ride home on my own.” I replied to Eduardo.

Part of me wanted to say “yes”, but I felt silly and didn’t want to be a burden.

As the conversation unfolded, Eduardo instructed me to buy some Gatorade and some “Sal de Uvas” (salt of grapes).

“The Sal de Uvas will help settle your stomach,” he coached me, “and the Gatorade will help you maintain your electrolytes and prevent dehydration.”

“Please call me anytime tonight or tomorrow.” Eduardo concluded. “If you need anything I will come over and help.”

Eduardo and Michiko seemed to know something that I did not. I was still convinced that I was just dealing with some mild stomach upset that would be gone by morning.

The wait for my ferry seemed to take forever. Finally I was safely aboard, haven chosen an open-air seat upstairs, in the rear-middle of the ferry, sitting right by a handy trash can. Amazingly, I made it all the way to Cozumel without worsening my nausea, and was soon speeding through dark narrow streets on my bicycle, heading toward a pharmacy near my home.

When the salesgirl told me they didn’t sell Sal de Uvas, I began to wish I had accepted Eduardo’s offer for a ride. I had visions of running all over the city trying to buy Sal de Uvas—and by now, exhaustion was consuming me, and I felt as if I were developing a fever. Finally, thirty minutes and several stops later, I walked through my front door with my assigned purchases. Minutes later, my cell phone rang yet again. It was dear sweet Eduardo making sure I had arrived safely—repeating his instructions to call him, day or night, if I needed any help.

An hour later, the fever continued to strengthen, and I had developed a very strong headache. My whole body felt like an oven, yet at the same time I was cold and shivering violently. Finally giving in to the shivers, I climbed between my sheets, quickly pulling my thin bed-comforter tightly over and around my whole body. While sweating profusely with a high fever, I remained tightly wrapped in my bed linens, trying to remain warm—quite the oxymoron.

Two Advil and four hours later, my fever finally broke and I began to feel the insane shivers subside as well. In the meantime, the relentless and intense diarrhea had begun. By now I had figured out that my body was suffering from food poisoning and was attempting to flush out the toxins.

I was up and down, back and forth to the bathroom, at least every fifteen minutes for the rest of the night.

The nausea was so intense that in desperation I finally forced myself to vomit at around 2:30 a.m., praying for the relief that I hoped would come with purging the poisons from my stomach.

Somehow, I survived the long difficult night.

Somehow, I managed to remain an observer—never fully buying into the trauma/drama of being sick—never fully identifying with the gravity of the illness, even though I felt ever so empty and spiritually lifeless.

Somehow, I managed to remember that everything has a reason and a purpose—and that soon I would be able to find the hidden treasure of this experience.

By midmorning on Thursday, I was extremely weak and starving, and I realized that I was in desperate need of some type of nourishment and more Gatorade. After taking a long shower, during which I mostly sat on the floor by the drain, I coaxed myself to walk in baby-steps to the nearest market.

After an exhausting walk, I managed to consume and hold down several soda crackers, beginning the very slow process of gradually reintroducing bland food to my traumatized stomach.

Realizing how much I could really use some assistance, I finally swallowed my pride and called Eduardo. I’ll be there in ten minutes he told me. A huge sigh of relief flowed through my spirit.

Eduardo had me retrieve my yoga mat, and asked me to lie on the kitchen floor, with my head facing north. Soon, he began working his healing magic on me. While gently touching me on my forearm to connect with my body’s energy, Eduardo held a pendulum in the other hand. If you are familiar with kinesiology (or muscle testing) the concept is very similar.

Our soul or higher self is deeply connected to the source of all truth, and our body is able to subconsciously access that energy and truth. With kinesiology/muscle testing, the body subconsciously reacts with strength when asked a true question, and the body reacts with weakness when asked a false question. With the pendulum, our body subconsciously moves the pendulum in one direction when asked a true question, and moves it differently when asked a false question.

In his energy work, Eduardo is very tuned-in to the use of his pendulums, and in a very skilled way is capable of accessing much needed answers, answers which the subconscious already knows.

Just like Eduardo, I use my energetic intuitions to tell me true and false, but in my case I rely on the feelings generated in my heart. On Thursday, as Eduardo used the pendulum to ask my body to identify the type and cause of my illness, my heart confirmed very strongly that I should trust Eduardo’s diagnosis and treatment plan.

“Is it Salmonella?” Eduardo asked my body.

“No” was the answer. A sense of welcome relief accompanied that simple word.

“Is it E-Coli?” …. “No”  … “Does Brenda need to see a medical doctor?” … “No” … “Are antibiotics needed?” … “No.”

In a very short period of time, Eduardo used my body’s energy to determine that the source of my food poisoning was the ham in my Wednesday morning Denver omelet. He reassured me that my condition was not life threatening and would heal itself naturally in time for me to attend the festivities near Playa Del Carmen on Saturday.

“Your body wants you to gradually begin eating apples, carrots, and grapes,” Eduardo told me, “and be sure to keep taking the Sal de Uvas every six hours, drink plenty of Gatorade and water, and avoid dairy for a while.”

Eduardo also scolded me (gently) for having taken an Immodium A.D. just a few hours earlier. “Brenda, your body needs to flush out these toxins. What you did was prevent your body from being able to do its job. If the diarrhea returns, please let it run its course.”

After doing the “questioning” work, Eduardo then settled into treatment mode. For more than an hour, I laid on my yoga mat while Eduardo quietly worked on my energy levels. Methodically, reverently, Eduardo used his pendulums, crystals, and flowers to explore and to heal my energy.

“Brenda, your second and third chakras already had an energy blockage before this happened.” Eduardo began, as he summarized his findings. “You would probably have gotten sick soon anyway, even if you had not eaten that ham.”

I smiled and laughed momentarily because I knew he was right. The second and third chakras deal with control, trust, and fear—all issues that have been bombarding and paralyzing me in the recent days. A feeling of recognition washed over me, letting me know that in both a physical and a spiritual way, my body was being “rebooted—shutdown and restarted” all in preparation for the next phase of my journey.

Before leaving me alone once again, Eduardo first drove me back to the store to help me select and purchase fruit. Walking together through the produce department, I would place my hand on a fruit while he touched my arm and swung his pendulum to ask if this type of fruit was what my body needed and wanted. Soon I was home alone with a bag of golden delicious apples, carrots, green seedless grapes, bananas, and pears. Later, as I sat in silence, my heart was filled with overwhelming gratitude for the loving assistance of my dear friend.

Ever so gradually I began to improve. I began eating an apple on Thursday but was unable to finish—yet I was able to hold down the crackers and Gatorade. The diarrhea returned later that evening, resuming its several-times-per-hour frequency. With every trip to the bathroom, I thanked my body for doing its cleansing job so efficiently.

By Friday mid-morning, the diarrhea had become only occasional, and I was actually able to eat a little bit. In addition to a small amount of fruit, I devoured a bowl of Raman noodles for lunch and a small serving of plain white rice for dinner.

As I went to bed on Friday evening, I was highly encouraged by the fact that I was actually beginning to feel like partially smiling again, yet my still generally weak status and mild diarrhea was not instilling much confidence about my spending a full day in Playa Del Carmen.

“I might not go tomorrow,” I told myself, “but I’ll leave that decision for the morning.”

It was not until about 10:00 a.m. on Saturday that I decided to pack my overnight bag for a trip on the afternoon ferry. I felt like I had not eaten for two days, but the hunger pains actually felt good compared to the former intense nausea. My silent Jedi voices encouraged me to make the trip … I knew that I needed to go and that everything would be wonderful.

Dia De Los Muertos

As I boarded the 1:00 p.m. ferry, gratitude was once again my travel companion—gratitude for my dear friends, family, and health—but most of all for the spiritual aliveness that was once again beginning to fill my body.

Everything seemed to be golden for me on Saturday.

I first rode straight to Rafael’s restaurant, hoping for a final opportunity to connect. I had not seen him in two full weeks and knew this may be my only opportunity to see him again before I leave.

When I arrived, Rafael was standing on the sidewalk, preparing to move his restaurant. We had time for a great spiritual conversation—a conversation in which I reminded Rafael that everything always happens for a reason. Things don’t always turn out the way we think they should, but if we keep our minds open and listen with our hearts, we can see that things always turn out for the best. We really don’t know what is in our own best interest. Every seeming “tragedy” always bears hidden blessings. All we have to do is listen to our hearts and trust our internal promptings.

As this beautiful conversation wound to a closure, Rafael paused and reflected, and then spoke with a look of profound insight in his eyes.

“Brenda, remember when my Teacher told me that you had something to teach me? Well what you just taught me was it. That is exactly what I needed to hear today. Thank you so much!”

After exchanging huge hugs, we shared our temporary goodbyes, both of us knowing that we will definitely see each other again—possibly in a few months. I am so eternally grateful for my deep friendship with Rafael.

After arriving at Michiko’s home, she insisted on feeding me a meal before taking me to the “Dia De Los Muertos (day of the dead)” festivities at Xcaret. I gratefully accepted her offer. The small salad, Japanese soup, and white rice was incredibly appreciated by my still weak and starving stomach.

During dinner conversation, Michiko stumbled upon my “Prime Directive”. She began asking me questions about my “Ex husband”. Immediately, I knew that another conversation was about to become reality.

I began by explaining that I did not have an “Ex husband”—but this only made her more confused. Finally I just blurted out a summary of my life story—something I seem to be doing a lot of lately.

As I already knew would be the case, my story was not an issue with Michiko. It only served to deepen our relationship, giving us much more interesting material to discuss.

“You know Brenda,” she reminded me, “Our body does not really define us anyway.”

I smiled in full agreement.

That evening, Michiko and I attended the festivities at Xcaret. Throughout facilities at the tourist park, local people were putting on theatre, music, and dance presentations. Our favorite activity of the evening was a two and a half hour professional show put on by Xcaret itself, detailing the history of Mexico through drama, song and dance. It was an elaborate show with beautiful performances, incredible sound quality, and great lighting—well done in every way. I was blown away with the amount and incredible variety of indigenous cultural heritage to be found in Mexico.

Over the past few weeks, I have learned that Dia De Los Muertos—while it falls close to the date of Halloween—has absolutely nothing in common. This day is not a day of trick or treating, nor a day of scary ghouls and goblins. Dia De Los Muertos is actually a day where families get together, usually in a cemetery, and celebrate the life and death of their loved ones.

Eduardo tells me that on the evening of November 1, tradition has family members gathering by the graves of their beloved dead youth. The families party, pray, eat, visit, mourn, and celebrate all night long—in activities very similar to the all-night “Veloracion” for Regina in which  I participated just one month ago.

The second night of the festival, November 2, is the evening where families celebrate/honor the lives of their adult dead.

Eduardo also explained that most people who choose to celebrate the holiday do so for one night only—honoring both their youth and adult dead in a single evening, usually on November 1.

As it turns out, my experience in Xcaret did not teach me much about Dia De Los Muertos, but I did learn a great deal about Mexican history and culture.

Michiko and I arrived back at her home after 11:00 p.m., and I quickly excused myself for some much needed sleep in her spare bedroom. Sunday morning, I was eager to catch the 8:00 a.m. ferry back to Cozumel, as I had a tiring and exhausting day ahead of me.

Goodbye to a Beautiful Home

I was originally supposed to be out of my home by Saturday evening (October 31). On Friday, when it became evident that this would not be happening, I called my property manager to explain my dilemma. With my food poisoning, there was no way I was going to make it.

“Monday morning at 9:15 a.m. will be fine.” She told me.

I was so grateful for the extra time, but knew that my entire Sunday would be devoted to laundry, cleaning and packing.

My stomach was still weak, and I didn’t want to push myself too hard, so I paced myself throughout the day, beginning first with laundry and sporadic cleaning.

By mid afternoon I had begun packing suitcases. There was no way I would have time to do final packing so I adopted a new strategy. My largest two suitcases were first stuffed to the brim with belongings which were definitely staying behind. I then packed a small duffel bag and my smallest suitcase with all remaining items—knowing that I would have to go through them later to make final decisions. During this process, I became acutely aware of just how lightly I will need to travel over the next few months. Space in my backpack will be extremely limited.

It was 9:30 p.m. before I finally finished my day’s tasks. Utter exhaustion was the emotion of the evening as I carefully navigated my bicycle through the dark streets to JayDee’s home. For most of the next week, this will be my temporary home—a place of regrouping, final re-packing, and launching pad for the future. JayDee is on a two-week cruise, and I can stay here as long as needed to get my feet planted back on the ground.

Yesterday morning, after a wonderful rest, I was back to work quite early. By 8:30 a.m. I had already been back and forth between the houses, using a taxi to transport my heavy and bulky luggage. Finally I was ready to relax and wait.

Then I heard the roof calling to me. As I wound my way upward around the small and narrow spiral staircase, a feeling of nostalgia blessed my thoughts.

“This roof is what called me to this home in the first place,” I reminded myself, “and I could never leave without saying goodbye.”

Finding a small shady spot behind one wall, I sat and reflected over the wonderful experiences that have taken place on this roof—a series of spiritual experiences and insights paraded through my mind, one by one. Tears of joy began to flow, turning my eyes red and washing away my eye liner.

“Oh great,” I smiled jokingly, “this is exactly what I need right before talking to my property manager.”

But I simply wiped the tears away and kept reflecting. Red eyes or not, I felt drawn to finish my ceremony of gratitude. Soon, I was standing, performing my ten-step Qigong breathing exercises four times, once facing in each compass direction. Then as reverently as I had ascended, I slowly descended the winding metal stairs back to my front door.

Visiting each and every room in my home, one by one, I pronounced a small blessing of gratitude for each, thanking that room for the beautiful service it had provided in my journey.

Soon, the experience was all over in quick fashion. I walked through the home with my property manager, proudly showing her how clean everything was.

Before handing me an envelope with my $700 cash deposit, she told me “Brenda, you didn’t need to spend all that time cleaning. You should have asked me. We’re just going to send in cleaners anyway.”

Somehow, I didn’t care. By cleaning I was leaving the home with love, honor, and respect—exactly as I had found it. As I pedaled away for the last time, gratitude was vibrating through every cell of my body. I had said my goodbyes and was now ready to launch forward on a new adventure.

Blessings in Disguise

All weekend, my focus has been on discovering the hidden treasures of having been sick. Believe it or not, I have found many, and I am grateful for each of them.

First and foremost, the illness served to deepen my spiritual connections with Eduardo, helping me to gain additional insights and experiences with his energy healing practices. I am so incredibly grateful for the loving help that Eduardo provided to me during my darkest hour in Cozumel.

Second, in some strange way, my food poisoning brought me closer to Michiko. The experience provided her with an opportunity to serve me and gave us both additional opportunities to chat—ultimately leading to an opportunity for me to share my story. I don’t know how, when, or where, but I feel that this deepening will have a definite impact on my future journeys.

Third, the experience has made me wiser and more aware of eating habits and patterns, causing a few internal shifts in my attitude toward eating in Mexico. I will definitely be adding more fruits and vegetables to my diet.

Fourth, I fully recognize the amazing synchronicity of my “system reboot” and how it corresponds with my ongoing struggles with control and fear as I enter this new phase. I fully believe that the energy of my second and third chakras has indeed been plugging up, and this experience was needed to get me cleansed and back on the right path.

Fifth and finally, a very interesting synchronous event happened—one which I only found out about on Saturday while talking to Michiko. I mentioned two months ago that Michiko has a friend in Peru that lives and works with the Shaman near Machu Picchu. Apparently, this friend was at Michiko’s home on Wednesday evening, and has now moved back to a city somewhere else in Mexico. I find this experience fascinating as I look at what did NOT happen. There is no doubt in my heart that if I was supposed to meet Michiko’s friend on Wednesday evening, I would have.

One hour before going to Michiko’s home, the universe guided me, through physical illness, to turn around and leave. Could it be that the universe brought her here so close to me only to say “No Brenda, you must not meet her right now—your path is elsewhere, and meeting her would create a distraction—a distraction that would steer you in the wrong direction.”?

As amazing as this may sound, my heart tells me that this is the case. In a very powerful way the universe made a clever statement of omission, telling me that my future path lies elsewhere.

Leaping Lizards

This morning, as I watched in amazement, I wondered how such a tiny creature, with short stubby legs, could so effortlessly execute such a perfect eight-inch vertical jump.

The whole experience caused me to ponder just how many of my own seeming limitations are self-imposed merely by a belief system that tells me “I cannot do that!”

In my last four months, I have indeed made many seemingly-impossible leaps, achieving goals and completing tasks that at one time seemed very unlikely and/or quite fear inducing.

As I prepare to face future fears and challenges, I can already envision myself as that tiny lizard, easily leaping over my obstacles, ignoring logic and reason, simply relying on my heart to guide me into uncharted territory.

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

Last week I enjoyed another beautiful snorkel trip with my American friends, sailing through crystal blue waters, delighting in a wild-weather day of torrential downpours followed by glowing blue skies and calm dancing seas. Then there was a beach snorkel at Punta Sur in an area that has simply got to be the most beautiful snorkeling spot on the island. The shallow reef is loaded with fish, sea turtles, and beautiful waving purple fans.

Today, in another incredible undersea adventure, JayDee and I relaxed at sixty-five feet below the surface, drifting with the currents, floating through the magical world of sea turtles, colorful fish, dazzling coral, moray eels, and beady-eyed lobsters.

Also consuming my time are twice-weekly trips to Playa Del Carmen, yet-another inspired four-and-a-half hour conversation with Eduardo, game nights, final bike rides in the jungle, and the beginnings of goodbyes—all wonderful experiences.

Yet, in the midst of lovingly and lazily enjoying the incredible winding down of an unbelievable adventure, my old-friend ego continues to jump into the fray, demanding attention like an agitated two year old rolling around on the floor throwing a major temper tantrum. Most of the time I calmly and lovingly ignore this unruly child as she flails her arms and legs around wildly—but such attention-getting antics are often hard to ignore.

In low-energy moments, moments of physical exhaustion, I have found my confidence slipping. Doubts begin to sink their roots through unprotected openings in my soul. Once anchored in place, these roots begin to grow, twisting and turning, filling my mind with lies and other nonsense such as, “I’m not going to make it … I don’t have time … I only have a few days left. I should be packing, planning, cleaning, worrying, preparing, organizing, sorting, etc.”

Guilt then jumps into the mix with “I have gone five day’s without receiving any inspiration to write.  I’m not being spiritual enough—surely something is wrong with me. I should be receiving firm promptings and guidance about my future by now.”

These judgmental, self-critical thoughts have an uncanny ability to sap my energy levels as they attempt to suck out my very life blood. At times I begin to feel like a directionless fraud—a wanna-be spiritual adventurer who is simply fooling herself.

But then I feel a small tap on the shoulder. When I turn around, I recognize a new spiritual prompting cutting in, asking me to dance. Immediately losing interest in dancing with doubt, I eagerly embrace my new dance partner, once again finding a sense of inner aliveness and purpose.

“How could I have ever doubted?” I ask myself as I energetically fly around the dance floor, my feet feeling lighter than air.

But then, there is a slight lull in the music. My spiritual dance partner takes a short break. In the emptiness of the moment, my old dance partner named doubt comes looking for me to see if I want to dance with him some more.

“What harm can one little dance do?” I ask myself, as I reluctantly say yes.

Soon, I’m watching myself slip back into questioning, criticizing, and judging myself all over again—anxiously awaiting and hoping that my spiritual partner will soon return and tap me on the shoulder yet again. The longer I dance with doubt, the more I begin to minimize and to forget the incredible dance moves of spirit.

Such have been my last few weeks. My spiritual dance partner has taken several short breaks, telling me to enjoy some much deserved rest for a few weeks. For the most part, this is exactly what I have done—yet that persistent little doubt continues to ask me to dance, even when there is no music playing.

The exciting outcome of all of this is that I am not buying into the doubt. Instead, I am sitting back and being the observer, watching his every move. Yes, I dance with him, but I know who and what he is—I study him, his manipulative tactics, his sneaky pick-up lines, his deceptive lure—and in the end I tell him thanks, but no thanks. Perhaps this is the internal growth I needed to experience during this short break in the music.

Dancing With Spirit

Even in this seeming period of waiting and trusting, I have continued to watch with interest as several subtle events magically unfold. My spiritual dance partner continues to cut in for short little dances.

In just three days, my friend JayDee is leaving on a seventeen-day cruise. Last week, out of the blue, she approached me and said “Brenda, this morning when I was on my computer, I had the strongest feeling come over me, saying that I should ask if you want to stay at my home while I am gone.”

Immediately, I felt a mild confirmation telling me “Yes, I will be taking JayDee up on this offer, at least for several days.”

I can’t say why, but I can literally feel myself staying in her home until around November third or fourth.

Wednesday evening, after our “A Course In Miracles” study group in Playa Del Carmen, my new friend Carmen told me “Brenda, you absolutely have to attend the ‘Dia De Los Muertos’ (Day of the Dead) festival at Xcaret next week.”

She didn’t ask me—she told me in no uncertain terms that I need to go—that I am going—that this will be a cultural experience that I absolutely must not miss. Within five minutes all of my logistical worries melted away. Michiko offered both transportation and a place to sleep. My heart replied a resounding “Yes, I would love to experience the festival.”

Call it coincidence, but if I had not already made plans to stay a few extra days at JayDee’s home, I would probably have said “No” to this new invitation. A warm feeling in my heart tells me that the universe wants me to attend this festival.

Another amazing set of promptings unfolded on Saturday. But first, I need to lay a little background. For reasons that I won’t try to explain here, my dear friend Rafael is planning to move his restaurant from its present location to a large shopping mall food court. Interestingly enough, Rafael will likely be moving the restaurant at about the same time that I am leaving Cozumel.

In an effort to ensure that I have a way to find Rafael when I return to the area, (since he is not very responsive via email) I asked Rafael if he would give me directions to find the mall. He began explaining, “You have to go way out to the Federal Highway, then go north toward Cancun, then turn …”

Rafael paused and then said “It is very far and complicated to describe. Next week, Brenda, when you come, I will give you the address and show you how to find it on a map.”

This past Saturday, as I pondered my plans for the day, an internal feeling guided me to take the 1:00 p.m. ferry. I had originally planned to catch a later ferry since my meeting with Rafael was not until 6:00 p.m..

Shortly after arriving in Playa Del Carmen, a strong feeling came over me, saying “Get on your bicycle, start exploring, and go find that shopping mall.”

In blind faith, I began pedaling toward the main Federal Highway, fully aware that I had no idea where the mall was or what it was called.

Once on the highway, I turned north, keeping my bicycle on frontage roads to avoid the congested higher-speed traffic. Simply following my instincts, I pedaled for thirty minutes in the hot and sweaty afternoon sun. At one busy intersection, a small sign on the opposite corner caught my attention—something about a shopping development with one hundred shops—but the word “Mall” was nowhere to be seen.

Even so, a little bird on my shoulder told me “Turn here.”

Ten minutes later, the traffic momentarily thinned enough for me to run with my bicycle across the busy highway. Resuming my journey westward, I pedaled for yet another ten minutes. Finally, a large “Chedraui” store came into view, following which I recognized a “Cinepolis” movie theatre.

“This has to be it.” I eagerly congratulated myself—right before the next prompting hit me.

I have had a feeling for some time now that I would love to have an actual backpack to carry my belongings in my journeys around the Yucatan Peninsula. Dragging a small suitcase around just didn’t “feel” right. On two occasions I had hopefully but unsuccessfully scoured several stores in both Cozumel and Playa Del Carmen—finding absolutely nothing even closely resembling what my heart was asking for.

As this large “Plaza Las Americas” mall came into my view, a distinct feeling flooded through my mind and heart.

“If you look for it, you will find a backpack here in this mall.”

The feeling was quite strong—quite unexpected—yet part of me remained doubtful.

As I first entered the mall, logical thinking guided me into the large Chedraui store. These stores are a smaller Mexican version of something similar to a WalMart—selling an assortment of just about everything—except they almost never seem to have what I really want. Sure enough, after scouring the aisles of this large air conditioned store, I found a small camping section with tents and sleeping bags—but to my surprise, there were absolutely NO backpacks.

Not giving up on my feeling, I began walking through the cool air conditioned hallways of the small indoor mall. Soon, I passed the edge of a large food court—one that looked remarkably similar to what one might see in any modern USA Mall.

“This is where I will find Rafael when I return to Playa Del Carmen.” I pondered. I was thrilled with myself for so easily discovering this place. A sense of peace reassured my soul that I will be able to maintain contact with Rafael after I leave.

Except for one, almost all of the stores lining the long one-story hallway were tiny specialty shops, and none of them appeared to carry sporting goods. One medium sized department store caught my eye. My first reaction was to simply pass the store by, but my feelings quickly guided me inside. Glancing around the ground level, all I could see was a mixture of furniture and appliances.

A quick pass through the second level proved disappointing, and I almost left the store, but a feeling told me, “No, don’t leave, walk through the furniture section.”

In sheer amazement, I stared with disbelief as I walked up to a bunk bed display and noticed two large backpacks lying on the bottom bunk. My memory may be playing tricks on me, but I have no recall of seeing any other camping gear in the entire store.

Ten minutes later I was standing at the cashier, proudly holding my new prized possession—a red nylon backpack, with a sturdy padded frame—one that should be perfect for my journeys.

Several hours later, after studying Spanish on the beach, I made my way to Rafael’s restaurant, eager to begin our evening spiritual gathering.

“Rafael will not be here tonight,” his sister began to fill me in, “his son is sick, and Rafael is home taking care of him.”

As I hurried back to catch the 6:00 p.m. ferry, I giggled as I realized what had happened. It is entirely possible that I may not connect with Rafael again before I leave the area—but through a series of synchronicities, the universe guided me to the location to where he is moving. Then, as if to put an accent mark on the end of the inspiration, the universe satisfied my need for a backpack hidden in the same series of magical events.

What If I’m Wrong

In my first spiritual session with Trish (March 2008), during the same hour in which she told me that Rafael’s Medicine Man “sits in the top of very tall mountains,” Trish pointed out some other incredible insights into my spiritual journey.

Without even knowing me or my life situation, she told me that my spiritual guides were showing her that there are two issues in my life that were holding me back, keeping me from blazing forward.

The first issue was my fear over “What if I’m wrong?” … and the second about “Letting go of Control.”

At the time, I was in the midst of existential fears related to career and financial survival. Just over four and a half months earlier I had been laid off from my twenty-nine year career as a Computer Software Engineer. My deep promptings were guiding me to leave computers behind in the dust, pushing forward with my Masters Degree in counseling—yet at the time, my fears were paralyzing me.

“What if I’m wrong?” was a huge question looming in my life.

Head/Ego was screaming, “Go back to computers … You need the money … You will never survive.”

Heart/Spirit was calmly pushing me forward, “Let computers go … That is no longer your identity … You have another path to follow … You are NOT wrong … This is the most sane thing you have ever done.”

Indeed, I was trying to muster the faith to continue surrendering my life over to spirit, while at he same time desperately clawing, grasping for something to hang onto, trying to find some way to maintain control.

But my heart knew that I could not do both at the same time. Maintaining control prevented me from surrendering to the promptings of spirit, and giving up control left me vulnerable to intense fears and doubts.

Somehow, I found the courage to gradually surrender, one tiny step at a time. With each baby step, my heart was rewarded with incredible peace, my life was touched by amazing blessings, and synchronous little events began to inspiringly unfold all around me, blessing each and every step.

It is these tiny baby steps that have guided me to where I am today, right here, right now. This Friday will mark exactly two years to the day that I left my software engineering job for the very last time. If you had told me then what I would be doing today, I would have cringed in fear.

In many ways, my past dances with doubts were very similar to my dances of today. Yes, the fears and doubts are real. Even with tiny baby steps, each step into the unknown can be terrifying—yet they always land on beautiful solid ground.

As I look back on the path I have followed, one which at the time seemed to be so intimidating, I have only incredible fond memories of love, peace, and growth. How could the future be scary when the present continues to grow more beautiful with every step?

Yes, as I occasionally dance with my old friend doubt, I have the absolute confidence that not many songs will play in the dance hall before a new spiritual prompting rushes in, taps me on the shoulder, and whisks me off to an exciting new growth adventure.

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

My peaceful little wooden bench, nestled in the plaza among the beautiful flowering trees, has become a sacred space, a hideaway of sorts, sheltering me from both sun and rain, showering me in its powerful energy. The smiling faces of hardworking groundskeepers, the singing of birds, the cooing of pigeons, the cautious explorations of colorful lizards, the gorgeous flowers, the Aztec dancers, the beautiful and delightful mixture of people who pass by every day—every element of this now-holy ground will be deeply missed. 

Tuesday evening, I strolled down to the plaza intending to read, but once I arrived, all I could do was sit and listen to music. While reminiscing and observing the plaza, unexpected tears began to stream down my cheeks as my heart swelled with overwhelming gratitude and joy for my experiences in Cozumel. 

A sad, nostalgic part of me says “I don’t want to leave.” The incredible peaceful energy of this place has intertwined its roots throughout my soul. In a very real way, I feel as if I have lived in Cozumel for a many years, while at the same time, four months ago feels like yesterday.

Indeed, my spiritual and physical journey of these short months has been a deeply sacred experience, one that has changed my life forever, one which I feel propelling me forward into yet-unimagined new growth and opportunity.

In past writing, I have barely scratched the surface in sharing life events and spiritual promptings that have guided me to be here in Cozumel, right now, today. There are so many experiences I have wanted to share, yet so little time and space to share them. 

With your permission, I would like today to share two other sacred experiences that have guided my life deeply, building my courage and my faith. These experiences are precious to me. The second is so special that I have only, as of yet, shared it with a few people in the past—but my heart tells that now is the time to share the story with you.

I’m not really sure of the purpose for sharing these stories today, but I hope they resonate with your heart as they have with mine.

A Passionate Mission

The setting was Donut Falls, a beautiful cascade of fresh mountain waters, nestled among the Aspens and Pines up one of the many rugged canyons near Salt Lake City. The season was early Summer, 2004, just two weeks after I had completed a four day intensive healing therapy workshop—a workshop in which I learned to feel love and forgiveness toward myself—where I began to recognize and to accept my inner beauty for what it really is.

I was in the early stages of beginning to clearly see that I am—we all are—of divine origin, and that pure unconditional love is the universal language of God.

On a beautiful Sunday morning, the final day of the workshop, my group of new friends hiked together up a small trail in Big Cottonwood Canyon, seeking out the energy of a cool rushing stream, towering pine trees, blue skies, fresh air, and nature’s peaceful silence. For a few inspiring hours, we engaged in a symbolic mini vision quest, during which each of us wrote own personal mission statement.

As the workshop came to a beautiful conclusion, my soul remained restless, not fully satisfied with the words I had written. From deep inside my heart, the feeling surged with passionate clarity, “Brenda, you need to dedicate a day in the mountains—a day in which you will allow Spirit to rewrite this mission statement—forming a statement that will guide you in powerful ways.”

Two weeks later, I honored that divine guidance, returning to the mountains to write a sacred mission statement that continues to bless my life to this very day.

I can still feel the cool moist spray on my cheeks as I sat in the refreshing shade under a small tree just downstream from the base of the splashing cascades of Donut Falls. The morning air was fresh and crisp, the sounds of the rumbling waters vibrated with the energy of my soul. This seemed the perfect place to petition for guidance—to ask the universe to fill me with words that would inspire and carry my life forward to new heights.

The inspiration flowed smoothly from my pen as tears of gratitude simultaneously streamed down the sides of my reddening cheeks. The message revived my soul, awakening spiritual energies and passions that I was not even aware existed. A few gratitude-filled hours later, a feeling of completion settled through my soul as I began memorizing the words—words which were already beginning to work their magic in my soul.

These words are very sacred to me. They were given to me through divine guidance, and continue to inspire me each and every time I meditate on them. As I repeat these powerful words in my heart, I see them as a truth to which I strive to awaken. In my more centered moments they resonate with the aliveness in my soul. During moments when I begin to stray from Spirit, these words serve as a guide to help pull me back to that truth, to help me remember my true identity.

Personal Mission Statement
by Brenda Larsen 

I am a beautiful and courageous divine daughter of God, overflowing with unconditional love and acceptance of others.

 I will compose and perform the special music I hear in my own heart, creating a safe and loving environment where others feel inspired and empowered to discover and to perform their own beautiful music.

 Together, we can, and we will, create symphonies.

 
The words above are not the exact words that I wrote on that beautiful day at Donut Falls. Originally I began the first sentence with “I am a beautiful and courageous special-edition woman,” In June of 2004, I was still early in my healing path, just beginning to recognize my special nature. 

For many years I had felt defective, feeling like a misfit between two worlds. My breakthrough in self-love came as I finally recognized that I was indeed an incredible special-edition woman. A lifetime of struggle and healing had blessed me with profound insights and wisdom, teaching me about human suffering, unconditional love, and having the courage to follow my heart. All these experiences also gifted me with incredible insights and understanding regarding both genders.

After a few years of deep spiritual growth and strengthening my connection with God, my heart confirmed that the time had come to step my words up a notch, to embrace my true Divine origin. While the old words had indeed served their purpose, they no longer resonated with my soul. At that time, I changed the words from “special-edition woman” to “divine daughter of God.”

If you will indulge me, I would love the opportunity to dissect my mission statement—to explain the precious and powerful impact these words continue to have in my life on a daily basis.

“I am a beautiful …” – Prior to my healing, seeing myself as beautiful was an impossibility. Throughout my life, I saw myself as an ugly freak of nature. I hated my body, especially my face. While I had learned to tolerate and accept my appearance, believing myself to be beautiful was but an unreachable fantasy.

When I scribed these words into my mission statement, I was just beginning to embrace the possibility—to actually believe “I am beautiful”.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not talking narcissistic, ego driven self-image here. I am talking about the divine beauty in each of our souls. I do find it amazing, however, that the more I embrace my own inner beauty, the more that beauty seems to reflect itself back to me in the physical mirror as well. Even more amazing is that I see this same beauty in everyone around me.

“… and courageous …” – Major fears—deep existential fears—seemed to have a solid foothold throughout most of my life. There were countless times in my life where the fears were so intense that taking another step in any direction seemed hopeless, even pointless. My soul was dying, and no matter which way I stepped I knew that someone I loved would get hurt. Finding the courage to be true to my own heart was the most difficult thing I ever did.

Having this word in my mission statement has reinforced my ability to remain courageous in the face of continuing life challenges and situations. When I am spiritually centered and connected to my divine source, these words inspire me to defy fear, to blindly and boldly follow my heart wherever it may lead.

“… Divine daughter of God, …” – It took me a while to have the courage to add this statement to my mission statement. “What will others think of me if I have the audacity to make such a claim?” I thought to myself. After all, there was a large gap in my life where I did not even believe in God.

Embracing my individual divinity—and the divinity of each one of us—has been perhaps the most life changing element of my path. Having this statement in my oft-repeated mission statement is a constant reminder of who I really am. These words have fueled and reinforced my spiritual path.

“… overflowing with unconditional love and acceptance of others.” – In the summer of 2004, my mission to learn about unconditional love was still in its infancy. At the time, I was just beginning to explore what it means to love unconditionally, and I had never even heard of “A Course In Miracles,” yet my heart already surged with the energetic awareness that the key to my future peace and happiness depended on developing my capacity to love others.

Throughout recent years, this self-definition has been a constant barometer against which I gauge my spiritual growth and progress. Whenever I begin to feel even the slightest bit of judgment (toward myself or others), my mission statement floods into my memory and reminds me that I am off track—off purpose—I am not being unconditionally loving. With each step forward, my ability to love continues to grow and deepen.

Daily life events seem to continually remind me that learning to love unconditionally is a life-long process—a treasure hunt that never ends. There are always more treasures to find. I am grateful for frequent events and emotions that spur me forward in this continued growth

“I will compose and perform the special music that I hear in my own heart, …” – There is a wonderful little book that will forever hold a special place in my heart. In his book “Ten Secrets for Success and Inner Peace,” Wayne Dyer beautifully outlines ten simple and pure spiritual concepts that, if embraced and followed, will lead to a life of love and inner peace. I fell in love with this little book as it quickly took on scripture status in my soul.

The second beautiful concept in Wayne Dyer’s book explains that each one of us has our own uniquely inspired inner music (or life purpose) that is longing to find its way to the surface. In most of us, this inspired purpose is buried deeply, overpowered by the many voices of the world. If the music does begin to surface, all too often we squash it down because the promptings seem impractical, or even frightening.

In a beautiful way, Dr. Dyer encourages us to find and to embrace this beautiful inner music—our inspired purpose—and to not die with it still un-played inside of us.

As I scribed these powerful words in my mission statement, my heart cried out for me to be infinitely flexible, to not place any definitions, limits, or boundaries on my inner music. What my words do is to embrace the dynamic and inspired nature of my inner passions. I invited the universe to flow through me, to help me hear and feel the spiritual music. Then, in an act of faith, I committed to compose and perform whatever inspired music finds its way into my heart.

This simple phrase has been my lighthouse, guiding me across rocky transitions, ever encouraging me to listen to my inner voices, propelling me forward around each bend in my current journey.

“… creating a safe and loving environment where others feel inspired and empowered to discover and to perform their own beautiful music.” – I dated a man once (about eight years ago), who with all of the good intentions of his heart, had made it his life mission to fix others—to point out their issues and to assist them to move through those issues. While I admired his intent, his approach and method only served to push me away as he elevated himself to the role of ‘healed expert’ and at the same time lowered me to the role of ‘unhealed student needing his help.’

My heart cried out, “I want to make a difference in the world—but I will never, ever, presume to know someone else’s answer for them—nor will I ever presume to place myself above or below them.”

As these words flowed into my mission statement, they touched my heart deeply. I knew that “Yes, my job is merely to hold a safe loving space in which I am an open, loving, and genuine person—an environment where others can find the courage to look into their own heart, becoming inspired and empowered to discover their own inner music.”

This part of my mission statement continues to play a key role in my path of growth.

“Together, we can, and we will, create symphonies.” – This sentence in my mission statement was an inspired afterthought. Amazement would be an inadequate word to describe how these words have powerfully changed my world. As I have sought to honor my own inner music, I have literally found myself surrounded by inspired and empowered friends who are doing the same. As we each play our own version of beautiful music, my world is indeed beginning to sound like a beautiful symphony.

As the last five years of my life have unfolded, my mission statement has been a key inspiration in keeping me on track, and helping me stay spiritually grounded and centered. Countless times, I have repeatedly recited these inspired words while in the mountains or on the beach. Many times, these words have brought me to tears as I reconnected with the divine energies of my inspired purpose. It was these beautiful words that touched me so deeply during my last energizing bicycle ride around the island in September.

Magical Meditation Energy

A loud crashing noise awakened me from a deep sleep. The startling noise was so unusual, so unexpected, that I was immediately jolted into a state of high alert.

My heart skipped a beat or two as I imagined the worst, “Someone is in my home.”

After having lived alone for over eleven years, this was the first time I had ever really felt bodily fear at home. Somehow I found the courage to loudly call out, “I’m grabbing my phone and calling the police.”

But before actually making the call, a confident feeling caused me to begin gradually turning on lights while listening for more sounds. Room by room, I slowly searched my home, carefully opening every door, looking into every closet, under every bed, behind every piece of furniture.

Having no plan as to what I would do if I actually found someone, I simply continued searching. The doors and windows were all locked; there were no signs of forced entry, no unusual sounds, and no warm bodies hiding anywhere.

Being wide awake, yet still very tired, I cautiously returned to my bedroom, wondering if I would be able to return to a restful sleep—wondering if I really wanted to go back to sleep. A quick glance at my clock, followed by a few quick mental calculations, led me to deduce that the loud crashing noise had happened around 3:00 a.m.

By 3:30, the lights in my house were once again dark, and I was back between my sheets, lying flat on my back, staring wide-eyed at the pale ceiling.

“Try meditating.” The thought came out of nowhere, powerful and strong.

“OK,” I agreed, “I’ll give it a try.”

With my eyes closed, I allowed my mind to drift while attempting to visualize—a skill I have never quite developed, even to this very day. But in this attempt, I soon began to see little speckles of light, like tiny stars twinkling in the backdrop of a pitch black sky.

Suddenly, after some undetermined amount of time, a face appeared in the midst of the twinkling stars, an odd looking, not quite human face—but a distinguishable face, just the same. Almost immediately, the visual sensation was accompanied by an incredible energy, the likes of which I have never experienced either before or since.

Within moments, my body was consumed by this surging energy, rushing from the top of my head to the bottom of my spine, up and down my back with indescribable intensity.

My body was physically vibrating from the power of the energy. I felt as if a huge freight train—or perhaps a lightning bolt—were raging through my body. I could even hear the energy, which emanated a loud roaring rumbling sound, as if I were standing at the base of Niagara Falls.

To be totally truthful, I was momentarily terrified, being literally frightened by the seemingly unstoppable power of the surging flow.

Then, a feeling of peace drifted into my consciousness. Somehow I realized that I was experiencing some type of spiritual energy, more powerful than I had ever imagined possible—something I can only speculate as being similar to what Buddhists refer to as an experience of Kundalini energy.

At some unknown time interval, my consciousness reached a point of wanting to hold on to the energy, to go deeper into my experience. Almost immediately, the mysterious energy stopped, vanishing into the same place from which it had arisen.

In total amazement, I lay on my bed, pondering what had just happened. I had no words to describe what I was feeling. The experience was not especially mystical. I felt no sense of magical oneness with the universe, no melding with surrounding elements. The sensation was totally a physical one.

Several times I tried to re-enter the space, each time feeling as if I were close, but never quite achieving my goal.

Then a strong awareness gently comforted me. “This was just a taste of what is to come … of what is possible.” The feeling began. “This was a gift … it was not something you created … nor will you be able to return to this energy on your own … just be patient and use this experience as a powerful glimpse into possibilities and future growth.”

Soon I drifted back into a sound and restful sleep, without ever thinking to look again at my clock. I have often wondered how long I was immersed in the energy—it could have been seconds, it could have been hours—I honestly do not know. What I do know is how surprised I was in the morning when I walked across the upstairs hallway and stepped into my computer room.

As I sat down at my keyboard to check morning emails, I noticed a suitcase on the floor in the middle of the room.

The closet in my computer room had two clothes rods, a high one and a low one. Two weeks earlier, after returning from a nearly-silent three day individual retreat of spiritual soul searching, I had unpacked my suitcase and placed it in the back of this closet. The front of this suitcase was securely leaning on top of the lower clothes rod. The back of the suitcase was several inches lower, supported securely in the back. The suitcase was solid and secure in its position, not teetering or balanced in any way, having remained there for two weeks.

Somehow, at 3:00 a.m., something lifted that suitcase from its secure position on the rod, tossing it onto the ground in the middle of my room, and awakening me from a deep sleep.

Skeptics may speculate that there really might have been an intruder in my house who accidentally bumped the suitcase during a botched robbery—but why were there absolutely no sounds after the suitcase fell?

My heart knows the answer, and needs no proof. Some unidentified spiritual force intentionally woke me up in a powerful way that I could never deny or rationalize away. Then, once I was awake and back in bed, the universe blessed me with the powerful energy experience—an experience so intense that I could never deny or minimize it.

These memories are so powerful that I remember them as if they happened yesterday.

But in fact, this magical and mysterious energy experience happened almost two years ago, only a week before my first trip to Cozumel. With hindsight, I can clearly connect the powerful events that have begun awakening me and pushing me forward on my current journey. There is no doubt that this experience some twenty-three months ago was connected to other spiritual events, preparing me for this return trip to Cozumel and my subsequent growth path.

While I have never quite achieved the same energy through meditation, I can honestly say that I have not spent much time in attempting to reproduce the experience either. My heart is clear in remembering the feelings that followed the first experience. I know that when the time is right, I will be blessed with whatever I need to continue my growth.

Several times in the past two years, I have been the recipient of an incredibly pleasurable milder version of this energy while lying peacefully in a state of meditation. Quite often, I feel a faint hint of the same energy when I recognize deep spiritual promptings.

A firm sense of peace lets me know that I have no need to pursue this energy. I know that my real growth will come from internal perceptual shifts, and in strengthening my ability to love unconditionally. I feel quite content to let the energy find me whenever I am ready to receive it … and I am excited by the anticipation of what may one day return to my realm of experience.

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

Even though the temperature is actually a warm and pleasant 75 degrees, the gusting (up to 25 mph) winds and 70% humidity play games with my perceptions, tricking my body into believing the temperature must be closer to 60 degrees.

Today is a guilt-free lazy day. While working my way through four loads of long-overdue laundry, I have utilized my morning hours to reconnect with a few dear friends on the phone. At this very moment, Jeanette and Lori are hiking Ensign Peak in Salt Lake City. Closing my eyes, I can feel their loving energy as they enjoy a spectacular view on this beautiful autumn afternoon. As I visualize the two of them, I can feel the three of us together, laughing and giggling as we share the incredible communion with nature and spirit. I deeply miss my all of my friends, yet I know I am exactly where my heart needs me to be.

My imagination drifts to a warm mug of hot chocolate, topped with a handful of mini-marshmallows. I would run to the store right now to purchase some chocolate, but my heart urges me, “Just stay home, relax, enjoy this peaceful day.”

Even as the immersion into my unknown travels rapidly approaches, I continue to ignore any temptation to begin planning. Gentle peace reassures me to remain focused on the moment, as my internal voices continue to whisper, “Stay present … there is still plenty of time to prepare.”

With wonderful internal peace leading the way, yesterday evolved into a magical example of present moment living.

Flowing Through Time

Saturday morning, as I pushed my trusty mountain bike through my front gate, only two plans were certain.

Both appointments were the result of acting on previous feelings. I would make a 9:00 a.m. stop at Eduardo’s home to give him some digital photos, after which I would catch a 3:00 p.m. ferry to meet with Rafael in Playa Del Carmen.

No amount of planning could have filled in the gaps as beautifully as they unfolded throughout the day.

After copying my photos onto Eduardo’s computer, I soon found myself dining on delicious brownies and a piece of banana bread while Eduardo officially introduced me to his beautiful wife and youngest son. This incredible young man is so cute and outgoing. He begins to proudly retrieve things to show me, such as drawings, bead work, and toys that he loves.

After a while, Eduardo asks if I have time for a conversation in his “roof-office.’”

“Of course I do,” I eagerly reply. Minutes later we are sitting on wooden benches, in the shade, under a small thatch roof covering above the roof of Eduardo’s beautiful home.

“Brenda, I would like to repeat all of the stories I told you earlier about Regina.” He begins.” Now that you have been to Mexico City and are familiar with the locations, I want to help you remember the details, and teach you even more about Regina’s short life.”

Eagerly, like a sponge, I listen intently while Eduardo passionately retells the stories. His pupils are alive with energy, as if a spiritual fire is energetically dancing in his dark brown eyes.

The stories flow non-stop from Eduardo’s lips—registering deeply in my heart, singing to my soul. As our conversation begins to wind down, we are both shocked to notice that my short visit has mysteriously turned into almost four hours.

Then the conversation shifts.

“You have deeply inspired me,” Eduardo begins as he looks deeply into my eyes. “Meeting you, having these discussions, and reading your blog, has helped to reawaken a spiritual passion in me—helping me to once again connect with my heart, opening  my mind to new growth, new ways of thinking.”

“No, it is you who have inspired me.” I begin to respond.

By now, joyful emotions are running deep. I notice tears in the corners of Eduardo’s eyes, and feel similar wet patches forming in my own.

“You have taught me so much,” I continue, “opening your heart and soul to me as you share your spiritual passions. It is I who am deeply grateful to you.”

“Brenda,” Eduardo resumes, “prior to you, I haven’t had anyone on the island—other than my wife that is—with whom I could discuss these issues. My own daughters won’t even listen to me. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, you appear. It has been such a blessing to get to know you.”

“Tomorrow, because of your example,” he continues, “my wife and I are going to ride our bicycles around the island. We are going to follow your journey, beginning by riding across to the east side at 5:00 a.m., then building a fire on the beach before sunrise.”

I smile as I remember my own energizing experience, just barely over five weeks ago. My heart swells with joy as I ponder how my deepening friendship with Eduardo has inspired us both.

After a huge gratitude-filled bear hug, I have just enough time to run home and re-pack my bag, before grabbing some lunch and catching my ferry.

A little feeling says “It is going to rain.”

Another feeling responds “Don’t bother grabbing an umbrella … I want to get wet.”

Loving The Ending

After disembarking from the ferry in Playa Del Carmen, my watch reveals that I have almost two hours to fill before my scheduled meeting with Rafael. Less than ten minutes later, I find myself exploring the north end of Playa Del Carmen, enjoying music on my IPOD while pedaling around newly discovered streets near the beach. These streets are not paved; the nearby homes are very small and humble.

As I maneuver my bicycle around ruts and puddles, I look into the eyes of occasional passers-by. What I see amazes me—every set of eyes seems to glow with love, reflecting my feelings right back at me.

An unfamiliar song plays through my squishy pink earphones. I have never heard this one before, but the words, captivate me, intrigue me, beg me to listen again, and again, and again, and again.

For the next hour, I ride to the beautiful words. My colorful Caribbean surroundings seem to fade away as my attention focuses inward. The song’s chorus powerfully resonates with my soul.

Close your eyes
This part is scary
Take my hand
It won’t last long
You will love the ending I promise
When this part of the story is gone

Beautiful memories flood my consciousness. I imagine my divine source singing this song to me; I feel the incredible peace in knowing that I have an all-powerful hand to hold.

Every one of my past fears seems to take a turn at parading through my consciousness—reminding me of all the times in my life when I was near paralysis, terrified to take another step forward.

With each memory, my thoughts fast forward to the always incredible endings. Deep gratitude overwhelms me as I realize that, without fail, each frightening experiences has always brought amazing growth, spiritual deepening, emotional freedom, and confidence. Best of all, each fearful trek has blessed me with opportunities to learn and to experience unconditional love.

My mind soon wanders to very recent fears regarding the unknown journeys that lie ahead. I begin to laugh as I feel a deep inner excitement about the many amazing adventures awaiting me in my path. Absolute confidence soothes my soul as I ponder “Yes, I will definitely face fears, but the endings will be fabulous.”

Then a more pressing fear momentarily registers. Tonight, if the opportunity presents itself, I would like to share my story with Rafael. I cannot imagine the possibility of him rejecting me—yet the reality of this thought momentarily stabs itself into the heart of my awareness.

Suddenly, the clouds burst open, rain begins to pour down in torrents. I am more than a mile from Rafael’s restaurant, and I am supposed to meet him soon.

For more than twenty minutes, I hide out under the awnings of a newly constructed building, hoping to wait out the storm. Looking at my watch, I nervously wait as the minutes tick away. I glance upward at the sky; the grey clouds are solid and dark, not showing promise of any breaks in the near future.

Then I remember my morning thoughts of “Don’t bother grabbing an umbrella … I want to get wet.”

Throwing abandon to the wind, I push my bicycle out into the rain, and casually ride toward Rafael’s restaurant. When I finally splish splosh dripping wet through the small restaurant’s glass doors, a large smile surrounds my grinning teeth. The waiter disappears into the back room, returning moments later with a token handful of napkins with which to dry myself.

The evening proceeds almost as planned. Rafael had organized a small discussion group to talk about the teachings of his “Maestro Hercules.” Three of us participate—but I mostly observe and practice listening skills. Sylvia, the other participant, does not speak English. Trying to pick out random words in her conversations with Rafael proves to be a challenging learning experience.

Finally the meeting is over, I am alone with Rafael, and I ask if we can talk outside the earshot of people in the restaurant who might speak English.

“There are things about my life, my background that I like to share with my friends.” I begin.

“I don’t tell everyone that I meet,” I continue, “but when I get close to someone, I want them to know. I long for the freedom to be able to be my real genuine self.”

A feeling of fear and panic begins to consume me.

“Remember, I will love the ending.” I silently remind myself.

I begin to beat around the bush, trying to find subsequent words to say to Rafael.

“Why is this always so difficult?” I ask him … not really sure if that was a question or a statement … knowing he has no idea where I am going with the conversation.

Finally, I just blurt out the statement “I was born as a little boy”, following which I launch into a fifteen minute summary of my life struggles and healing journeys.

Rafael’s face is unnervingly blank, not showing emotion of any kind. I am not sure what he is thinking or feeling, but I continue with my story just the same. Something inside pushes me to tell him everything.

“What if he actually does reject me?” I wonder quietly.

“That doesn’t matter … what matters is being true to my self … my heart.” I silently banter back.

Relief floods through my soul as Rafael’s countenance finally begins to smile. His words are loving and reassuring. His choice of words tells me that he understands everything. His comments reflect deep compassion for the fears I have faced and a powerful awareness of the deep spiritual insights that have come as a result of facing those fears.

A meaningful conversation ensues, lasting for forty-five minutes, only ending because of time constraints.

As Rafael and I exchange a huge hug, I hop on my bicycle, riding out into a peaceful clear night. My whole being is alive with peaceful energy.

I Can Do This

Moments after my 10:00 p.m. island transport leaves the dock, I feel the small ferry lurch violently from side to side as it forcefully bounces up and down.

“Wow the waves are strong tonight.” I silently exclaim, as I look around at the other passengers to take in their reactions. Several of us break out laughing as our eyes connect at the same time a huge wave thrusts us down and to the left.

Soon, the violent rocking motions begin to weigh heavily on my stomach. Even as I write, I physically feel faint memories of that nausea.

As I glance around the cabin of my ferry, I note that laughs have gradually been replaced with pale sickly expressions. Many people are bending forward. One young woman fans fresh air into the face of her mother.

Then I hear the sounds of another woman doing what I am trying so hard to resist. Looking back a few rows, over on the right side of the boat, an elderly woman cradles a waste basket in front of her mouth as she struggles to retain her dignity, no longer able to hold down her dinner.

“I can do this” I anxiously encourage myself. “I know I can do this … I will love the ending.”

I retrieve my IPOD and listen to my “song of the day” over and over, closing my eyes, encouraging myself, imagining the ferry reaching Cozumel with my dinner still being where it belongs.

After forty-five minutes of swaying, jostling, rocking, bouncing, tossing, and lurching to-and-fro, our ferry finally slows to a bouncing crawl before finally coming to a complete up-and-down stop at the dock. As the ferry door swings open, I can at last see what is really happening outside.

Fierce winds are blowing, and torrential rains stream through the air at an almost sideways angle. Passengers ahead of me seem to be in no hurry to leave the dry warmth of the cabin.

One by one the people pause by the door before scampering out into the downpour. As I watch from the door, shirts that were once dry become instantly saturated, even before reaching the bottom of the boarding ramp.

Giggles fill my soul as I take my turn, running out into the torrents. In a sheltered waiting area, I watch patiently, waiting nearly thirty minutes for a crew member to finally retrieve my waterlogged bicycle from the front cargo area of the ferry. Ten minutes later I am home, grinning as I dry off for the second time at the end of a beautiful day.

Close Your Eyes

As I close my eyes and ponder the amazing energetic flow of my day yesterday, I am grateful for the influence and clarity of a beautiful song—a song that will forever have a special place in my heart—a song carrying an incredible message for anyone facing fears.

I must confess—my copy of the song was “borrowed” from a friend, and as I listened yesterday, I had no clue as to the actual title or performing artist. After a detailed internet search I have since discovered that the beautiful song is titled “Close Your Eyes.” It comes from an album titled “Father and Son” released by Michael McLean and Jeff McLean.

If you want to listen along, I found the following web site that lets you download the MP3 for free.

http://hbronner.org/Music19/MichaelBallam/Close_Your_Eyes.mp3

Following are the incredible words to this song.

Michael and Jeff McLean
Album: Father and Son

We popped the corn before we left
We had no cash to spare
His cousin ran that old drive-in show
So daddy took us there
And when the film would frighten me
He held me on his knee
And said we’ll get through this together somehow
And whispered tenderly

[Chorus]
Close your eyes
This part is scary
Take my hand
It won’t last long
You will love the ending I promise
When this part of the story is gone

That drive-in show closed years ago
It’s long since overgrown
My car can barely drive through the weeds
To park there all alone
The movie of my life’s become
More than I can face
And I’m looking for answers in places he taught me
To not be afraid to have faith

[Chorus]
Close your eyes
This part is scary
Take my hand
It won’t last long
You will love the ending I promise
When this part of the story is gone

For love cannot be defeated
Just like the sun it will rise
And things will look so much clearer
If you’ll stop
And close your eyes
Take my hand
You will love the ending I promise
When this part of the story is gone

Even though it might look hopeless
You will see
That love wins the prize

And fears disappear
And you’ll see much clearer
If you’ll just close your eyes

Perhaps he was saying
It’s easier praying
If you’ll close your eyes

Close your eyes

 
Somehow, my fears seem to simply disappear whenever I follow the counsel of this beautiful song. I close my eyes, take the hand of my divinity, and center myself in surrender, faith, and trust. When I open my eyes again, the scary part seems to magically melt away—and the best part is that the endings are always spectacular.

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved

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

The clock tower barely strikes “nine” as I occupy my favorite bench under a huge shade tree in the plaza. Fifty yards away, a vendor turns on a quiet radio, providing me with relaxing background mood music. A few pigeons gather as I throw out a few breakfast crumbs.

“What am I going to write today?” I ask myself. Even I do not know the answer to this question—other than the fact that I desire to explore my emotional roller coaster ride of the past few days.

Perhaps, by writing, I can reach additional clarity; maybe I can muster a little more courage and trust.

For several months now, a burning question in the back of my mind has been “Where am I going to go after I leave Cozumel?”

All of my life I have been one to plan. When going on any kind of trip or vacation, I tend to prepare myself in advance—researching everything including maps, sites to visit, sleeping accommodations, and weather. A few times in more recent years I have attempted road trips where itineraries were unplanned—left completely to chance. While such random adventures were always great learning experiences, unforeseen complications often led me to a state of frustration, occasionally even approaching panic.

My logical left brain thrives on details and planning, being prepared for anything and everything. Don’t get me wrong. I consider such skills in planning and preparation to be a strength—one that has served me quite well throughout my life. But there has also been a great price to pay—including stress, and loss of spontaneity. When I am too focused on the future, I find that I miss out on the wonder of precious present moments.

My recent trip to Mexico City was an incredible confidence builder—a journey in which I faced several deep fears and began to tear down some of my long-held obsessions with planning and organization. Circumstances blessed me with a relatively safe opportunity to practice ‘not knowing’—to personally witness divine guidance taking the place of my need to know in advance.

In early August, shortly before flying home for my son’s wedding, my left brain kicked into gear. Demanding attention, this logical side of me made sure that I knew the gravity of my circumstance. “You have less than three months till your time in Cozumel is complete.” The nagging and worrisome thoughts began. “You need to begin making plans for your future after Cozumel … planning time is very short.” 

I appeased the worrying thoughts by beginning a small amount of research. I discovered that there are many volunteer opportunities scattered throughout Central and South America. “Yes, when I get back from the wedding, I will check some of them out.” I reassured my ego, keeping it temporarily distracted.

However, as I quieted my mind in meditation, my spiritually centered self calmly reassured me, “Brenda … it is definitely too early to be concerned with your next journey … there are many things that need to happen first … you need only focus on your present path … be patient … if you focus on the future you will miss the present … your future path will manifest itself at the appropriate time … and not before.”

In late August, after returning from my son’s wedding, I spent another evening scouring the internet. This time, other possibilities caught my fancy. I discovered two different spiritual retreat centers in Peru—one Buddhist and one Vedanta. While the thought of spending a few quiet months in such a spiritual haven proved very enticing, again my centered heart calmly reassured me “Brenda, quit looking so far ahead … focus only on the present … just surrender and trust.”

After focusing back on the present, September became a spiritual feast of incredible opportunity and synchronicity, one I will never forget—yet my little ego desire to “plan the future” continues to nag and fester in the background.

As I maneuvered through my fears prior to committing to fly to Mexico City, a deep knowing in my heart let me know that the trip was a necessary preparation for the next phase of my journey—one that involves much more spontaneity, trust, and surrender—one that involves very little, if any, planning.

My ego-fears staged a rebellion with this thought, creating much of the panic that I experienced during my surrender-to-spirit process. Twice in Mexico City, powerful emotional experiences unexpectedly surfaced, both the result of beautiful songs that reached deeply into my heart, gently melting my ego-resistance, reassuring me that I am protected and lovingly watched over.

The “planning part” of me half expected that answers would flood through my heart as soon as my Mexico City trip was completed—but my ego did not especially like some of the answers I was beginning to feel when I returned.

A few things are very clear in my heart. Calm peaceful feelings permeate my soul with the knowledge that I will not be living in my present apartment beyond October 31, and that my external work in Cozumel, at least for the time being, is now complete. My heart is quite clear that my remaining growth path in Cozumel will be more internal, exploring my own fears and anxieties.

Miguel just strolled by on his way to work. Bless his sweet heart. I haven’t had much of a visit with him for several weeks. I’m not entirely sure what I just got myself into. Again, he pressured me to have dinner with him. Rather than my usual memorized “No,” I checked in with my heart and the answer “Yes” just came blurting out. We are meeting right here, tonight at 6:00 p.m.—then traveling together to his home. Upon accepting his invitation, I reiterated over and over, “Just friends—just a friendship,” making my intentions extremely clear. Each time, he slyly throws in the phrase, “We’ll see.”

It is hard to believe, but exactly four months ago today, I said my goodbyes to Salt Lake City, landed in Cozumel, and moved into my present apartment. Now, in less than three short weeks, I will say goodbye to my new Cozumel friends, moving on yet again. But I know this is not really a “goodbye”—something tells me I will be returning here many times in the future.

Lately, almost everywhere I look, events seem to trigger a thought that has already begun to send deep peaceful roots into my heart. In the Cancun airport, while flying to Mexico City, I observed a woman with a large backpack, preparing to board my plane. On my tour to the pyramids of Teotihuacan, I was fascinated by the backpacking adventures of my young friend from New Zealand.

At our Wednesday morning “American Ladies” breakfast this week, I met a new friend—a thirty-something woman who has previously backpacked around Mexico. Our discussion was fascinating, after which she offered to share her wisdom and experience with me. To top it off, my friend JayDee has volunteered to store two of my large suitcases at her home in Cozumel while I set off on an adventure.

For more than a month, my heart has been telling me (in spite of my fear) that I want to hop onto a bus and explore the Yucatan area of Mexico—possibly for several weeks, possibly for a month or two. Then, just in the past week, a buried feeling has begun surfacing—the thought of continuing my backpacking adventures throughout Central America while passing through countries like Nicaragua, El Salvador, and Guatemala.

Strange as it may sound, this desire feels like a hidden memory coming back to life—one in which I remember having always been fascinated and intrigued with the thought of exploring Central America—having always known that one day I will do so.

Intense fear flooded through my body Saturday Morning as I began to research on the internet. The words on the US State Department website are enough to strike terror into the hearts of anyone thinking about traveling in these politically unstable countries—especially a woman considering traveling alone. Daunting warnings of high crime rates, bus/car hijackings, murders, and robberies are plentiful.

Then there are the warnings about Malaria and Yellow Fever in countries such as Ecuador and Bolivia, and parts of Peru.

Digesting these fearful words for more than two hours left my logical brain screaming “Hell no, I won’t go! There is no way I am going to make myself vulnerable to that kind of danger. My next destination needs to be something safe and comfortable. I need to protect myself.”

My right brain was largely silent during this fear-inducing research. As my heart began to freeze up, fear, resistance, and even panic, pushed their way into my consciousness.

“Do I really believe all that I spiritually profess to believe?” I began to challenge myself. “If spirit were to strongly guide me to follow such a path, would I have the faith, courage, and trust to follow—to surrender—to go forward into the seemingly terrifying and dangerous unknown?”

In an attempt to sooth my heart, I did a little additional research. This time I checked out what the US State Department website had to say about Mexico City. I momentarily laughed when I realized that I was reading many of the same fear-inducing statements about a city I had just visited—a city where my heart had felt nothing but peace. A feeling of gratitude momentarily flooded my being—I was grateful that I had not read these scary words before visiting Mexico City.

A quick browse through a few other non-official websites also gave me slight encouragement as I searched for anything to bolster my confidence and courage.

While I’m not yet making any declarations or commitments about backpacking through Central America, I can say with certainty that my heart is preparing me to face such fears in a very real way. Perhaps this whole process is simply a mental one where I will face my fears before being guided in a different direction—and perhaps such a physical journey is actually in my cards. Only time will tell.

As Saturday afternoon arrived, I was feeling completely disconnected from spirit. Fear and resistance were busily attempting to build an internal fortress around my heart, and my inner peace was in serious jeopardy. Just prior to heading out for some lunch, my heart cried out in the form, “Go to your bookshelf.”

While in Utah for my son’s wedding, a strong feeling caused me to buy the book “Jonathan Livingston Seagull.” Several times in recent conversation, my friend Michelle had mentioned the book. In my first reading, over thirty years ago, the book had not left a lasting impression on my heart. In fact, I retained no memory whatsoever of its content.

But energetic feelings I sensed as Michelle spoke those words, along with a subtle knowing in my heart, let me know in no uncertain terms, “Do not go back to Cozumel without this book.”

Saturday, as I stared at my bookshelf, there was absolutely no question. This little former-bestseller figuratively jumped off the shelf into my hands, saying “Read me … today … right now!”

I had no choice. The book soon slipped from my hand into my backpack. In a single sitting, under my favorite shade tree in the plaza, I devoured the book from cover to cover.

Using the power of a simple parable, author Richard Bach managed to re-ignite my inner passions—passions telling me that “Yes … I will follow my heart … no matter where it takes me … no matter what the seeming emotional or physical risk … I will fly free … I will connect to the divine potential that resides within me … I will not live with fear, limits, or self-imposed restrictions … I will fly to new levels.”

Amazingly, as I inhaled the message of this book, every word seemed to embrace and reinforce my spiritual beliefs—beliefs about which I am deeply passionate today—beliefs which did not even register on my radar when I read the book some thirty years ago.

As I retired on Saturday evening, I soon learned that my lesson in surrender and courage was not yet over. My mind was guided to my favorite workbook lesson in “A Course In Miracles (ACIM).”

To make this synchronicity even more powerful, I need to provide a little context. ACIM is actually a combination of several books. One of the main elements is a “Workbook for Students” which contains 365 daily lessons. Among other things, these lessons provide a structured framework that helps a student gradually shift the way he or she looks at and perceives the world, reducing and/or eliminating fear-based emotions, replacing them with loving and peaceful perceptions.

In early January of this year, I began these lessons anew. For the most part, I had been very diligent in doing a new lesson almost every day. Shortly before my June flight to Cozumel, I reached lesson number 135—a lesson that had been my favorite ever since the first time I read it. But, for some unknown reason, I set the book down and never resumed. With four months having passed, my next lesson remained number 135. Throughout these four months I have felt in my heart, “Just wait … now is the time to practice living the concepts … you can pick up the book later.”

Saturday night the feeling came to me strongly—it is time to read lesson number 135. As I reread this powerful lesson, almost every word seemed to jump powerfully from the page into my heart.

Each word seemed to apply to me now, today, powerfully confronting my defensiveness, my resistance, and my fears—fears caused by panicked thoughts of traveling through Central America—fears caused by my ego’s unsatisfied need for planning the future. I digested each word and phrase very slowly. Frequently, my eyes burst into tears as I contemplated and compared my debilitating fears to the comforting and faith-inducing words.

I won’t try to quote every meaningful phrase from this lesson, as I would have to quote nearly the entire five pages. However, two short passages jump out at me with a deep power.

Lesson 135, paragraph 11:

“A healed mind does not plan. It carries out the plans that it receives through listening to wisdom that is not its own. It waits until it has been taught what should be done, and then proceeds to do it. It does not depend upon itself for anything except its adequacy to fulfill the plans assigned to it.”

This first quote reminds me to surrender to the inspirations that flow through me rather than trying to plan my own path, attempting to rely on my own strength and knowledge. With my limited experience and resources, how could I possibly know the path best for me?

My personal knowledge is based entirely on past experience. I choose to follow inspiration that flows from absolute divine wisdom.

Lesson 135, paragraph 18

“What could you not accept, if you but knew that everything that happens, all events, past, present and to come, are gently planned by One Whose only purpose is your good?”

The second quote brings deep peace to my heart. Clearly etched in my soul is the knowledge that every seemingly insurmountable obstacle in my life has subsequently brought great blessings, growth, strength, and wisdom. Loving perception is the key. As I see life through the eyes of love and forgiveness, I am filled with deep gratitude for every event in my journey, easily recognizing that each obstacle has indeed been for my good. Why would I doubt that the future of following heart promptings will not be the same?

While contemplating my very near future, my ego-self still resists, remaining cautious, anxious, and very much in fear.

Simultaneously, my heart is mostly at peace. I know that as long as I remain spiritually centered, there is absolutely nothing to fear—no matter where my promptings may lead me.

Internal promptings tell me that a phased in compromise is likely in store—a compromise that will help me to appease my ego-self in gradual baby steps.

Most likely, beginning in November, I will launch out into the Yucatan peninsula and southern Mexico, traveling, exploring, growing, experiencing, and facing my fears. During these adventures, I may take a brief excursion or two into Belize and Guatemala—always knowing that I can turn around and leave at any moment.

With heart and inspiration guiding me every step of the way, I will build confidence, trust, and courage. As my heart expands, I envision my ego fears gradually melting away into nothingness. If my feelings guide me further south, I will follow. If they take me elsewhere, I will listen. If I do travel through Central America, and if something “scary” were to happen, I trust that my spiritual guides will see me through such an experience with love and peace.

With nineteen days to go, I remain open and willing to consider any internal prompting that flows through my heart. Something tells me I will indeed be pushing through the limits of my fears.

Loving Resolution to Confusing Feelings

Awkward would be a very accurate way to describe my feelings as Miguel and I arrived at his home this evening. I struggle with finding the words to describe the delicate balance beam I walked while lovingly striving to preserve the dignity of a beautiful man.

Even after the countless times that I emphasized to Miguel that we are “just friends,” he has never seemed to fully grasp nor believe my solid resolve. Most every time we have talked, he has continued to share his loving desires and caring feelings with me, expressing his deep longing for our relationship to progress beyond my imposed limits.

It was precisely for this reason that I have always told Miguel, “No, I won’t come to your house.”

Today, when the word “Yes” actually came out of my mouth, I shocked even myself. I had no idea what to expect, but knew that difficult heart-to-heart words would need to be expressed this evening.

As I sat at his kitchen table, It did not take long for Miguel to begin pouring on his charm—leaving me with the difficult task of tightrope walking—attempting to firmly diffuse his expectations while attempting to salvage a friendship filled with love and dignity—and doing it all in a foreign language.

At times, the old me would have just stood up and walked away—several times in fact. But tonight, letting my heart do the speaking, I was finally able to make my feelings and intentions clear in a firm unbending manner, while at the same time remaining unconditionally loving with my dear friend.

For the first time in four months, I actually believe that we are on the same page—a loving healthy friendship with no ulterior expectations. The power of communicating from a place of unconditional love never ceases to amaze me.

Sharing My Truth

As I look back on this incredibly busy week, two experiences come to mind that are especially worthy of sharing.

Wednesday morning, after breakfast, I bumped into my friend Sheila in the parking lot of the Mega store. For two months, I have known that she is someone with whom I would eventually share my background—but the timing had never yet felt right. As Sheila and I talked briefly on the sidewalk, out of the blue, as if on autopilot, I followed a quick prompt in my heart and blurted out those fearful words.

I don’t know why disclosing this part of my past always creates such internal panic. Yes, I used to be terrified of rejection, being judged, criticized, and abandoned—but those fears have mostly evaporated for two reasons. First, my own healing path has brought me to a loving place where I am secure in the knowledge that my peace and happiness comes only from within—and second, after sharing my story with literally hundreds of people, not one, to my knowledge, has ever rejected me.

Even so, each time I share my story, I invariably swallow a huge lump of anxiety as the words escape from my lips, beyond my ability to call them back.

A huge smile formed within my soul as Sheila approached me at Friday evening game night, saying, “Brenda, I started reading your blog at the beginning, and I am loving it.” Then she followed up with a sincere request, “Please, whatever you do, wherever you go, please stay in touch with me.”

Even today, as I write these very words, Sheila is playing an important part in my own path. Just yesterday, she flew to Nicaragua for a three week stay at a Spanish Immersion school. Today is the beginning of her first-of-fifteen four-hour classes. Because of the example of her courage and inspiration, I envision myself doing something very similar, possibly attending the same classes in the very near future.

Thursday afternoon, I had my second “official” Bach Flower Therapy appointment with Eduardo. He is another friend with whom my heart has told me in no uncertain terms that I would soon be sharing my story. As usual, our one hour appointment turned into more than three hours of delightful conversation. After recapping my adventures in Mexico City, we talked about anything and everything spiritual. At one point Eduardo told me “Brenda, I would love to read your blog. I searched for you on Google last night, but could not find it. Can you give me the address?”

After gladly sharing the website, my heart instantly confirmed that now was the time to take yet another risk. Five minutes later, I had summarized my entire story—my lifelong struggle of learning to love and accept myself.

Of course Eduardo’s response was incredibly loving and accepting. I knew it would be. There was never any doubt—yet the anxious lump in my throat was still present as I shared those liberating words. When he asked for permission to share my story with his wife, I encouraged him to please do so. The last thing I want is for anyone else to feel burdened with carrying my secrets.

I have no way of predicting the future, but I do know one thing with absolute certainty. The incredible friendships I am establishing on this journey will not end when I leave Cozumel in just a few weeks. Each beautiful friendship will forever be with me in my heart, traveling with me wherever I may be guided. And who knows how many paths may yet cross again in the future?

I would love to end today’s writing with a poem written by my dear friend Joni—a friend who has also found the courage deep within herself to live her own personal truth. Thank you, Joni, for writing such beautiful words. I hope you are OK with me quoting them here.

Title Unknown …

… by Joni Weiss

Be who you are – authentically!

Love yourself – dearly!

Be good to yourself – truly!

Be your own very best friend.

Embrace yourself.

Embrace life – your life!

Be wholly who you are.

You are love itself.

Be THAT love!

Copyright © 2009 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved