Mexico: week 1

First, I must ask for forgiveness at the choppiness of my writing, as I am interspersing thoughts and info with excerpts from my journal, so I might write as much as possible in as little time as possible. We can only use the computer between 10-4:30, because it is solar powered, and I have not been motivated at all to sit at a computer while the sun is shining and the wind rustling through the trees. But it's been a week now and my story has developed so tremendously that I cannot refrain any longer.
I left NYC on the first of February, sat in 3 different airplane seats, drank starbucks coffee in Chicago, ate a greasy pizza in Houston, and sat in a taxi with a driver I could barely communicate with for another two hours before arriving at my hotel.

Entry from the second airplane:
I bought a new copy of "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" yesterday and am re-reading it. I read the introduction, as it makes sense now that I am familiar with the story. Pirsig points out that in a first person narrative, "the writer is locked inside the head of the narrator and can't get out...so is the reader," (xiii). 43 pages into the story a relecant conversation is recorded between the motorcyclists, in which the narrator states, "The world has no existence whatsoever outside the human imagination."

To me, this is a logical argument for how we create our environments. Things ARE because we recognize them to be. The falling tree in the forest might create a vibration, but the sound is in our perception. Perhaps we can take that even further and claim that the tree only falls because we identify it as having fallen...?

Yesterday Popper asked me if I think the use of crystals has any validity. I answered that they do in so far as when we believe they do, they inspire us to focus our energy in a particular direction, and by repeatedly focusing that energy it becomes stronger. As for the question of crystals' mystical powers sans human intention, I did not know positively, only that perhaps the color frequencies are related to energetic frequencies observed in ancient medicinal practices... that seems logical but might be stretching it too far, I don't know.

With Pirsig's contributions to my contemplations now I think I reaffirm my first answer to her question: They work when we declare them to do so.

2/2/09
I'm sitting just inside of an open balcony at Hotel Jardin, listening to a rooster's repeated wake-up call harmonizing with a flock (or are there flocks?) of morning birds chirping.

Yesterday turned out to be quite a long one.
After the second airplane I had just enough time to gobble a greasy pizza before we boarded.

The clouds made up for my impatience as they hovered over the sunset. Two of them called to each other as they were filled with storms, illuminating every few seconds with lightning. As we flew further I could see the reflection of the bolts in the water beneath.

I exited the airplane in disbelief that I had finally made it. Crickets chirped as I passed by unflinching soldiers to collect my visa and backpack. The cab-ride was filled with awkward silences, as I was able to speak only limited Spanish. The driver made comments, and while I understood half of what he said I could conjure only the most limited responses.

But sights filled the space where conversation lacked, as I looked out the window into the Mexican night. We passed at least 10 hand painted Pepsi ads (not one Coca-cola), various groups of youth flirting, or drinking, or fighting, or chatting, a number of stray dogs, many men in sombreros and a few groups of adults sitting outside eating food. But the best was a procession with a tuba and trumpets, candels in each marcher's hand, and two girls in white dresses at the front. I concluded that it must have been a first communion celebration.
We also passes a fohl and its mother, both unbridled, walking along the side of the road.

When we found the hotel we waited about 5 minutes before the lights came on and they opened the door. I relized quickly how little Spanish I know, but everyone was really nice and the messages were conveyed successfully.


I wandered downstairs just after writing that and ran into a group of people who were not Mexican. We looked at each other for a moment, and then Brian, the owner of Bosque, introduced himself. An hour later they drove me up to the property, and I tried to learn my way around and settle in.

The first two days seemed very long, filled with new information and new people. I realized it might take some time to settle my mind into a slower pace, but the transition proved to be easier than anticipated. The first full day was relaxing, as it was still a volunteer weekend (we have Monday's and Tuesday's off). I found myself still impulsively planning activities for the day, but eased into the slow pace happily.

2/3/09
I just watched a green-sheened black humming bird kissing red flowers. There is a buzzing of bees, twitter of birds, and occasional rustle of leaves in the wind gracing my ears. So much nicer than the clanking of subways and honking of horns!
I went for a 15 minute jog to start the morning. Then I met the rest of the volunteers for breakfast, and ended up talking to a Scottish girl, Melissa, for about an hour. She is here with her fiance, an English guy named Dan.

These two have proven to be incredible people, who I am so happy to have as friends. Almost every conversation becomes philosophical, and they are so welcoming and encouraging...it's delightful!



I don't know the date but I think it's the 5th and I know that it's Thursday.

I am exactly where I need to be. I feel so content, so at peace, so loved, just as I should!

I was too tired to write yesterday because the morning began with 2 1/2 hours of wheelbarrowing wood down trails and stacking it on the side of a path at the bottom of a hill. I was thinking of the tortoise and the hare, but couldn't help being a bit ambitious in carrying armloads of firewood to my blue wheelbarrow rather than individual pieces. We had been divided into teams of 2 and 3, and switched tasks around 10:30. I and the French girl I was working with then went to help build the cob hut, mixing dirt, water, sawdust, and pine-needles with shobels and stomping it in rubber boots that gave me blisters. We then carried handfuls of the muddy mixture to where the floor was being layed. It felt gooey and wonderful like clay.
I was lucky enough to be on kitchen duty, so thoroughly exhausted I went to help cut vegetables with Marie (the other permanent resident at Bosque alongside Brian), and the other French girl, Clemence. I felt like a vegetable myself for the rest of the day. <-- The French girls left this morning and we are getting two new volunteers today. Besides them and Melissa and Dan there is one more guy named Harry, from Cape Cod, and next week a volunteer who was here before I came is coming back after having taken a two week Spanish course in another area of Mexico.

After dinner we went down to the Casita (where we eat breakfast), and I played guitar and sang and we chatted. I have been so blessed with the people I've met here.

The next day...
Today I was on a team with Clemence and work was a lot less intense, beginning with the cob and then some mulch shovelling/wheelbarrowing, but we chatted a lot with the Mexican man who was leading our crew so we took a lot of breaks. Then we migrated over to gardening and I spent two hours packing dirt into plastic bags. Clemence complained that it was boring, but I was delighted to have the opportunity to meditate Thich Nhat Hanh style.
Dan completely agreed with me when we spoke of it at lunch.

Then, this afternoon, I lead Dan and Melissa through a yoga class and guided meditation, and did a brief vinyasa flow of my own afterwards and felt fantastic.

Yesterday I went to a bread-making workshop with a local family and today I am resting. I would go into more detail but I'm itching to get back into the sunlight. We've lit a sauna for later, and Melissa is cooking some wonderful food for lunch (everyone else went to town.) Time for some blissful nothingness!

Till next time, sending you all my love,
Katerina



After dinner