Midnight Moonlit Fisherman

Last night, at midnight, Che took me out with him on his boat, to check his nets, and bring in the few fish that were there. Che is a beautiful man, a fisherman who lives a life of voluntary simplicity. He is the only fisherman on the island who doesn`t use a motor. He has two hand-made oars and a little dingy that he uses to drop his nets or troll his lines. He lives by the moon, that pulls the ocean and stirs her directions. And when the sun comes up, he`ll take his fish to market, then come home to bed.

Che has a hut right beside the beach where he leaves his boat. It is a simple house that Chabela helped him to build from glass bottles and cob, with palm fronds to make the palapa roof. He uses candles to light it, a hammock to sleep in, and an earth oven to cook with. He is proud of his small, rustic home by sea.

Of course, he also has a house in the village where his wife and two daughters stay, where they have electricity, and television, and the usual conviences of a typical home. But when he wants to be with the sound of the waves and the smell of the ocean, this small house is his paradise.

Che loves to appreciate life. He loves nature. He loves beauty. He loves good food. Here on the island, he can enjoy a simple and easy life that few people would appreciate. For him, this is enough.

He pulled in sardines, mackerel, crabs, barracuda, and some fish that I didn`t know. We tossed back a couple of flying fish, a long pointy fish with a spear for a mouth, and a sting ray! There aren`t as many fish as there used to be. A few kilos a day is what he gets by on now. But with no fuel expenses or motor repairs, he has nothing to pay to keep his little operation going.

To live like this is a choice. He could buy a motor. He could go to work on one of the big fishing boats. But what Che understands is that the quality of life he seeks comes from his daily interactions with the world, not from having money, or things. Just like the old man who rides a horse and carriage through the village, singing old Mexican songs, and telling tourists about this little place. Life is simple. To appreciate this simplicity is a gift.

Meeting Che has been a gift. I am so grateful for this big man who lives a simple life. I am grateful for how welcoming and kind he has been to me. I am grateful for his spark of life and the twinkle in his eye. I am grateful for our moonlit boatride.

Big Hearted Woman

I’ve been in Mexico for four days. Already I have four new fillings, five old fillings replaced, and a mold made for my new gold crown that will be attached on Monday, when I will also get the remaining four of my old fillings replaced. All this for what it would cost for two fillings back home! How is it possible?

Not everything is so cheap in Mexico, but dentistry, is definitely worth the trip.

It’s been a lot of fun hanging with Chabela and her kids. Vincent and I went to go kick the soccer ball around the other day. There were some older kids practicing their breakdancing moves on the court (it’s a cement basketball court that also has soccer goals.) They wanted to play too, so we started a game of four on four. One of the older boys pulled out his ghetto blaster and was pumping American hip hop tunes. I only hope they don’t know what the lyrics mean! Each time one of the teams scored, a group of three girls who were bouncing on a trampoline in a nearby backyard would yell, Goooaaallll!!!

Yesterday, Vincent and one of his younger friends asked me to play volleyball. We played on the beach in front of one of the more popular restaurants and before we had the lines drawn in the sand, one of the waiters who was just getting off work asked to join. We had a couple of nice games of two on two while the sun set behind the ocean horizon.

Today, I needed to get the chord from my laptop soldered, so Chabela took me on her errands with her and her kids. I got to see how big this woman’s heart is. She has done so much to help the people of this island.

First we stopped by her workshop where she keeps her equipment used to make all kinds of interesting coconut products, from animals to earrings to baskets. Then we went to the house of one of the women who she hires, to pick up another little person for a play-date with her youngest daughter, Maya. On the way she showed me the recycling depot she built out of cob and glass and plastic bottles, a project she worked on while her husband was suffering his slow demise to lung cancer. The next step planned is organic gardens in the rest of the lot, which is owned by the local high school.

We drove through the poor part of the village and she showed me her next cob and glass bottle project she is going to build, for one of the poorer families who live in a very rustic little shack right now. Then we stopped at Che the fisherman’s house. We stopped there to ask him if he would take some Rotary Club kids out fishing. She is hosting a traveling group of international adolescents for a couple of days, and wanted them to see the traditional fishing methods, that very few people still practice.

All along the way she said hello to the people of this place who obviously know and respect her. She helps people, advises people, motivates people, and encourages sustainable, ecologically conscious choices as this little bit of paradise faces the pressures of the modern world and the disposable culture that we more ‘developed’ nations are handing down through our alluring media and tourist presence. 

She wishes she had more time to do yoga and meditate. Raising three kids, running a business and guest house, performing her endless, unpaid social work and sustainability projects, keep her busy. But her spiritual path is not forgotten. She may even take the time to come with me to the gathering of indigenous elders and new age wisdom teachers that is a few hours from here.

No matter what happens, I know I have met a kindred spirit that shares a path of heart-centred, ecologically minded service. We will stay friends, and our journeys will help to enrich each other’s.

Thank you Chabela!

Everything is a Symbol of Love

Henry is an vietnam vet whose wife helped him figure out he could claim a psychological disability pension. He travels. She doesn’t. Because she’s afraid of the places he goes. Like Mexico. They let each other have boyfriends or girlfriends. As long as they don’t move in, he says. I met him at Chabela’s place.

Chabela is a Quebequois woman whose has been living in Mexico for 15 years. She just got back from working at a Buddhist monestary in Arizona with her 14 year old, 11 year old, and 8 year old. She owns the place where I’m staying. She is kind, and she works hard. Her husband, a Mexican man she shared her life with, died a year ago from lung cancer. When she speaks about him her sadness and pain still show. But Mexico, and this place, are still her home. 

It is the island that is not really an island. Henry says years ago it was a special place. The beaches where nude beaches, and, you could sleep on them. it was a fishing village with lots of fish. It still seems like a special place to me, even if Che’s net only pulls in 500lbs of fish a day instead of 2000lbs. His oars are still made from pieces of wood nailed into poles. Henry still buys his weed by the pound.

But he’s looking for a new place. Time to move on. Henry doesn’t like to stay anywhere too long. Things change. Things always change. He knows hundreds of songs on the guitar, not to perform for you, though if you’ll listen he’ll play, but to be his medicine, to be his company, to be the promise of companionship as he grows old.

Chabela’s oldest, Vincent, walked me to the dentist this evening. The dentist starts here at 4:30 in the afternoon. I could take a boat to the city, like I was planning, and probably have a much nicer clinic. But something about Jesus and his one room dentist office feels right. He’s good people. He remembered Vincent from when he had been there as a younger boy, when his father was still alive. When he sat me in the chair he started right away talking about the hygenics of the tools he was using. He told me I need less work than I thought, and his prices are less than I expected.

I’m here. I can relax. It’s working out good. I can stick around and help fix up the place for cheaper rent. The gathering I also came to Mexico for is more than two weeks away. The Huichol paintings on the yellow walls of my room are enough to convince me to stay.

Some things change. Some things stay the same.

Healing. Letting go. Remembering what it means to love. Loving myself. Loving life. Loving everything. I used to have a patch on my backpack. It was there for years. I finally took it off before this trip because it was so old and worn. It\s not on my bag anymore, but I keep it in my heart. It said,

‘Everything is a symbol of love.’