Magic!

Miracles and magic have permeated the last few months with such vigour that I find myself happily surrendering to life! Beauty and ease have begun to fill my days, and new opportunities are taking root while the tender green shoots of spring are still blanketed with snow.

My heart has been healing and filling with a great new fire. Mexico was more than I bargained for, and just what I needed. What I have allowed myself to let go of, is now falling into my lap.

My trip to the mountains in Mexico, to the 7:7:7:7 gathering with Chabela, has altered my path. What was revealed to me there has opened new doors, spiralling into destiny. We fell in love. We surrendered deeply into love, letting go of what held us back, and releasing into magic.

The synchronicities are noticed, acknowledged, and appreciated. Chabela is the same age as my last partner. She left Canada to go travelling, met a man, fell in love, got pregnant and had her first child at 21, like my last partner. She has three kids who are the same ages as my last partner's. She drives a Toyota 4x4 like my last partner's. The list goes on, with an uncanny echoing of the previous year of my life.

To top it off, at the gathering in Mexico, they were both there. An experience that was not easy, but very useful. An acceleration of healing has happened. A cleansing and a clarity have been gifted to me. There was life and death. Literally. Four nights were spent in funeral ceremony for an Ojibwe elder who passed away after breakfast on the fourth day. I will never know if he is aware of how much he helped me.

A few days ago, on the new moon, I danced, then made a fire with a friend, to let go of the last of the things I was holding onto. It was a way for me to honour the many gifts I received from Bernice. And to let go of the past, to honour what I am creating with Chabela.

Suddenly, wood has been thrown onto the fire of a dream I had been losing touch with. My faith in following my heart is being restored. As is the faith in knowing all the details will be filled in, as the passion is kept alive. Chabela loves the idea of travelling and using art to teach compassion. She wants to live in community. Already she is invovled with a number of social and environmenatl projects on Stone Island. Her spiritual connection to native Huichol medicine people and to Buddhhist teachers takes her on many journeys in Mexico and the States. She is a love sponge! People flock to her to soak up the beauty that pours out of her. Her late-husband would say, 'Everywhere she goes she has this big tail!'

I have a plane ticket back to Mexico. In five weeks I will be back on Stone Island. The mystery continues to unfold as the magical map of destiny is revealed, day by day, moment by moment. The gift of this life nourishes me, as I continue to unwrap the present, and receive the blessings of love.

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.’

Grief & Praise

There was a time when I didn't really know how to cry. If I ever did cry, I held it back, choked down the welling up that I was afraid to let out. I had one outlet for my sadness which was my secret, alone-time tear bringer: the memory of my childhood companion, a tabby named Christie, who disappeared in my second year of University, after eleven years of life together. She was my connection to tears. She helped me cry. But as a man, and a boy, I was told, it's not ok to cry. I didn't want people to see me do it. So I held it in.

I have cried more in the last few months than I cried in the twenty-five years before. What a gift! I am so grateful for all my tears. Pain has been such a great teacher. It has helped me to allow my sadness, to celebrate my sadness, in a precious honouring of what I love.

Mourning the loss of mine and Bernice's child, mourning the loss of Andreas and Christina's child, mourning the loss of the idea that I had found someone to grow old in love with, to raise a family with, mourning these losses has been deep journey with spirit into the heart of my love.

How do I love? I haven't really addressed this question directly here yet. Maybe it's time I did.

Since I'm on the topic of grief, I'd like to give some praise. I would like to praise Martin Prechtel, who held me on two long drives during this difficult time. He held me with his words on grief and praise, how in his culture they are the same thing. He speaks with raw, vulnerable honesty about his own pain, and how this pain is a celebration of the gods and all they beauty and magic they have created, which all must die.

I am learning how to grieve, which is praise, which is love. I am learning how to love by feeling the depth of my pain. Dropping all the stories, the blame, the guilt, the shame, and feeling my pain. That's how I love.

Forgiveness is also how I love. Forgiving others for the things they have done that triggered my pain. Forgiving myself for triggering pain in others. Forgiving myself for chosing the painful way, for not loving myself enough to listen to the call of my heart back into my own being.

I call this love because it is surrender to spirit. Love is trusting what is. Allowing what is, really allowing what is, so it can be touched, so it can be felt, so it can be honoured and praised, whether it is sadness or joy.

I watched a movie about two people in love. A love that brought them together despite incredible odds. I cried and cried.  I cried for the loss of the partnership I had. And I cried for the joy of knowing how sacred this love is to me, how I know I will find what I am looking for, because I am feeding the gods with my grief, and they will feel this praise, and they will feed me.

I cry when I see love, I cry when I see pain, I cry when I see passion. I don't know if my fountain of tears will stay with me the way it is now. But I know that now, with the slightest dip into sincerity and passion, beauty and loss, I touch the river of grief and praise that flows through me.

Oh Baby, Not Again!

Oh wow. Two babies leaving in ten days. I woke up crying this morning, but this time it was for someone else's baby, who came out without a heartbeat and smaller than a peanut. Dear, dear friends of mine, family, whose pregnancy was celebrated and cherished. Such challenging lessons happening deep within my heart's reach.

Bowls of Food keep coming to me from Rumi.
I want to share some of it:

Winter blocks the road. Flowers

are taken prisoner underground.

Then green justice tenders a spear.

Go outside to the orchard. These

visitors came a long way, past all

the houses of the zodiac, learning

something new at each stop. And

they're here for such a short time,

sitting at these tables set on the

prow of the wind. Bowls of food

are brought out as answers. but

still no one knows the answer.

Food for the soul stays secret.

Body food gets put out in the open

like us. Those who work at a bakery

don't know the taste of bread like

the hungry beggars do. Because the

beloved wants to know, unseen things

become manifest. Hiding is the

hidden purpose of creation: bury

your seed and wait. After you die,

all the thoughts you had will throng

around like children. The heart

is the secret inside the secret.

My friend Micah climbed up the hill today when I wasn't home and dropped off his extra guitar for me. I sang a song tonight that felt so good. I am so grateful for all the beauty in my life. I am so grateful for the chance to love life so much. What's here now, and what's coming.

A little bit closer to the begining of this long Rumi poem he says...

The purpose of

every gathering is discovered:

to recognize beauty and to love

what's beautiful.

I love you beautiful! Yes you!

Rumi has been so helpful lately. And the Tarot. I asked just now what lessons it had and here's what it said:


It seems appropriate that the Three of Wands has three main interpretations, all of which seem to stand alone but which ultimately relate to each other. The first of these is established strength; success after initial hardship and difficulty. Partnership and teamwork is the second theme, particularly leadership in creative environments. This card also deals with personal virtue and respect for oneself. It shows that, when the chips are down and you have no one to help you, you can turn to yourself for support and you will never be let down.

Thankfully I have many beautiful souls I can turn to when the chips are down. And I'm ready for success after the initial hardship! Particularily in creative environments! And in partnership and teamwork!

Wow. Thank you god (which you can also read as, soul of that little baby I will find one day) for all the beauty stirred in me.

I love you.
And you.
Beautiful.

Goody Bye Baby

Two days ago, I lit a fire. On that fire I placed two blood stained pieces of cloth, the only remains I was given of our baby. Our baby who was dead before I had a chance to put my hand on the belly it lived in and say, 'I love you.' As a man, a man destined to be a father, I find it incredibly painful to be faced with the helplessness of having no control over whether a baby gets to live or die.

I lit this fire alone. I was not given the honour of being with my baby when it burned. Although at first I thought I was. Holding the two pads that had been used to catch the induced miscarriage, a dear, pregnant friend asked if she could see him. I opened them and stared at the empty, blood stained cloth. He had been removed by his mother before she sent me what I now had.

But there was more for the fire: an ultrasound of my blessed little peanut, two coins (I had no idea how significant this was at the time!) a bone, a card, and an amethyst tied with a hebrew symbol for life and a cowry shell. The shell turned to ash, the purple crystal turned clear, and life, life remained intact!

I am grateful for this day, this chance to say good bye, for closure, for endings, for new beginnings. My ceremony began on this day with a serendipitous encounter with an angel who gave me a gift of tarot - In the past the turbulent two of coins; in the future the promising two of cups. "You will find someone whose dreams harmonize with your dreams, whose nature harmonizes with your nature, it will be easy."

Oh ease! Oh harmony! Blessed be the gifts of this incredible pain. Thank you for the strength to carry on. Thank you for the deep lesson in life and love. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Thank you baby.

Good bye.

I will see you again.