Day 4: Melting Like Mayans

Tuesday, May... it doesn't matter anymore.

Honey slap on the SPF and break out the shade cuz we gonna check us out some history!  The Tulum Ruins were only a short 10 minute drive away from our resort.  Known as the only coastal ruin in existence for this particular region, it was a swelteringly beautiful tour.  We couldn't get to the breezy coast fast enough!  The ancient rocks beckoned of a once vibrant culture that knew how to survive in such a tropical setting without our cozy creature comforts. 

Being a thrifty group, we didn't bother with paying for a guide.  Instead, we just sort of nuzzled up against various groups who had in fact paid for a guide and listened until, well, we decided we didn't want to anymore.  Others quickly retreated to shade.  Some of us made up our own stories instead and chased iguanas.   Either way, it was magical and not for the faint of heart in the May heat. 

   Upon returning to the resort, we quickly resumed our regularly scheduled programming beach-side. 

Tres... number Tres of viva-ing.

Monday, May 20...


I don't quite recall what we did.  I know there was a lot of beach, sun, sand, puppies... maybe even rainbows and unicorns.  This may have been the day that Jordan and Walter cooked us a feast.  And even if it wasn't, I'm going to tell you about it anway.

We had a trough of the best guacamole this side of the equator, with fish tacos and pico de gallo and chips and cheese and...

Let's just say that the spread was colorful, beautful.  It was rich with both color and flavor.  We all gathered as one motley family around the table and consumed. 

Heavily.

And while we were eating, we planned dinner for Wednesday.  Gluttonous pigs!!

Viva La Mexico: Day Numero Dos

Sunday, May 19.  I wake up to some of the most exotic sounds.  Doves that sound like owls... Grackles that sound like... grackles.  The breeze up against the palm trees that sound like a mix of heaven and one of those cds for relaxation.  The beautifully manicured landscape of our surroundings care of Tom and his crew quickly bring me back to planet earth.  Though it's hard.  This is real? 

With the tickling of the low hanging palm branches that brush my shoulder, I am quickly reminded that I am, indeed, awake.  This is real.  Hairbrush be damned, my butt goes directly to the sand and my eye balls wait intently for the sun to make its full appearance.  The hammocks' gentle sway in my periphery ground me further into a deep mental state of relaxation and ease.  Other early risers are walking the shore line from their own living spaces.  Household pets join unassuming passerby's on their morning walks and stop to make new friends at their leisure.  Time moves very slowly.

What feels like hours has only been minutes.  I am joined by a friendly yellow pup who decides my company is worthy enough to lounge with.  Wearing a collar that requests no feeding due to medical conditions, the pup is obviously loved and cared-for.  And I quickly realize that personal space and community have a totally different unfolding here.  It's as if there is an innate understanding that all people here are "good".  Mi casa su casa.

I'm in love with this place.

Before long I am softly surrounded by the emergence of my group with faint smells of coffee, deep sighs and the gentle uprising of laughter.  Let the day begin.

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I must confess that even the major Mexican grocery store felt like a mecca of undiscovered treasures.  With it's vast array of incredibly affordable produce, to it's selection of baked goods, cheeses and... need I say it?  BEER... time still moved slow.  I don't know exactly how we did it.  But with the 14 of us who piled into the van, we managed to buy groceries for the week, pay for them accurately, stock pile in and around ourselves once returning to the van, and making it back to Casa del Corazon in minimal time.  No stress.  No duress.  Just time. 

I must be honest... I have very little recollection of what took place the remainder of that beautiful first full sloooowwww day.  Beach.  Sand.  Snorkeling with magically-colored fish.  Picking on a weathered guitar and making up lyrics to the blues.

Sipping on delicious beverages and making tan lines.  Taking stabs at kayaking and getting comfortable with the sea-grass.   Making less-than-desirable "stretch marks" from lazing in the hammocks with bare skin.  Dancing in the moon-light and laughing at man-kini's. 

I digress.  There was only one man-kini.

Time didn't matter.  Money didn't matter.  Make-up and hair didn't matter.  The only thing that mattered was being there... in the moment... surrounded by the goodness of friends and family.  Surrounded by the reality that life really is good. 

Oh, and that we can collectively make one hell of a mess.

Viva la Mexico.

Viva La Mexico: Day 1

Saturday, May 18: The Great Send Off

A year's worth of planning finally coming to fruition, and I'm in full "morning-person" mode.  From home, to airport through the up-close and personal TSA, I'm so happy to be alive I can't stand it.  Even the security officials are annoyed with my 6am smile.  With little more than a back pack full of wrinkled and rolled up clothes, I'm ready for a week in Mayan paradise to explore not only the Yucatan but also my own inner need for some deep breathing.  Even the lay over in Jersey felt amazing... and the airport food?  I mean, just marvelous.  Over-priced water never tasted so refreshing! 

The soothing 3 hour flight to Cancun lulled me into a semi-dream like state.  I dozed and sipped on a disgusting cup of airpline wine... but I didn't care.  I was on my way to paradise!  Disgusting or not, it was wine, it was mine and I was on a plane to vacate in the tropics. 

And then we landed.

The moment our feet cross through the formidable customs of Mexico, we are surrounded by a spanish-speaking mafia wishing to wisk us away in their pricey caravans to this place and that.  Time has suddenly sped up and I see lots of hispanic mania... need money?  need taxi?  Nope.  Need an interpreter.  Or just my rental van. 

Before long, a group of 15 has dwindled to a group of four... and I find myself bargaining with the Mexican clerk in the National rental car office.  Tempers have flaired amongst group members, while half have been safely shipped off to paradise in a chartered shuttle.

The smart ones. 

Somehow I manage to maintain a level of calm and gentility, while also communicating that I want to clearly communicate and failing miserably to communicate clearly (say that five-times-fast).  I ask the clerk 20 questions at the risk of annoyance, though my 6am smile has morphed into a slight furrow in the brow.  Eventually, I convince his coworker to yell "More Beer!" with a country accent to make it all better.  He did.  The van magically appeared.

After learning how to drive a 15 passenger van around the Cancun airport for an hour, the remainder of our group are finally retreived with 3rd degree sun burns and dehydration.  Four has become seven, and we quickly decide to keep with the theme of the day... BEER.

My, how culture can change one's perspective... for once we were the minorities lined up outside of a Mexican 711.  Dos Esquis?  Check!  Smokes? Check!  Savviness with pesos and/or currency exchange in USD?  Haha.  That's funny.  Those clerks made bank on us new arrivals.  We didn't even know what hit us until we piled back in the van.  And doing some quick math realized that... we're not in Virginia anymore.

Oh well.  BEER.

A sulky and quiet ride to our final destination reunited all 15 of us once again...
Casa del Corazon beach bungalows: Soliman Bay Mexico
 ... our home for next week.

Image with me, if you will, 7 grown people pouring out of a van like grade-school children at recess.  It's a pretty accurate assessment.   Complete with giggles, gasps and flying beer tops, we traipsed and skipped all the way to Tom... who stood there beaming as if he'd been waiting on the remainder of his children to come home.  His beautiful staff greeted us warmly, not minding the stale smell of well-traveled bodies.  If my memory serves me correctly, I believe we performed a jazz number in unison all the way to the shore line.

Let me not forget the scenery of enchanting bungalows encountered in the midst of our musical number.  Spacious, open and ornate, each group member nestled in quickly to the inviting and spacious living quarters reflecting the saucy and colorful culture that is Soliman Bay.  From the beautiful wooden windows that allowed the fresh Riveria breeze to breathe into each room, to the beautifully tiled counter-tops... I believe I actually hugged the sun for a second. 

Catching my breath at the shore line, lazy hammocks begged to be of use while the kayaks patiently waited for exploration of the bay.  The crystal blue water gave gentle applause for our arrival and seemed to whisper "Hey, I'll be here all week.  No rush man." 

Ok.  I'll accept that.  Let's eat!

Oscar y Lalo's was just a short dusty drive from the resort... authentic Mexican dining with Lala the spider monkey.  I enjoyed fresh mango margaritas with tortilla's, pico de gallo, queso and vast quantities of bug spray.  The mosquitos enjoyed vast quantities of my ankles. 

Need a break from your dining experience?  No problem.  Just pull your chair aside and lay in the hammock next to the table... take a siesta before the next round of shots.  Or play with Lala, she'll give you kisses on your belly.  In my case, she'll kiss your belly, sit on your face with her gnarly little diapered monkey butt and shove her salty ass toe in your mouth.

 Next time, I'll laugh with my mouth closed.

With full bellies back at ocean-side, one by one the gentle breeze and swinging of the hammocks lulled us to our new homes for a night's slumber.  My final thought?  We've only just begun...

Viva La Mexico.

Carpe Diem

It's curious to me how a person's influence becomes all the more enhanced by their exit from this world. And I suppose that's the crux of what it means to grieve... that moment when a person is no longer physically attainable. Surely this is something that not only happens in death, but in any situation where loss is a factor.

Yesterday was the culmination of a 10 month-long journey for dear woman living with lung cancer. I had the privilege to walk with her as her chapters slowly came to a close. Her courage in facing death was astounding... she was open, honest... and never ceased caring for her 4 adult children. Let's face it... whether you are 4, 14, or 54... it's still your momma.

And I was asked to be her mouthpiece... by the woman herself... to be the voice facilitating her life's celebration. It's not that I necessarily feel pressure when asked to be a mouthpiece. I rather embrace it. It's a joy and a passion for me to offer that sort of closure and hope to the loved ones grieving on other side of the microphone.

What I don't always account for, however, is the impact of said loss on ME. Sure, this is my job. This is what I do. And I'm good at it.

But what I continue to learn is that, profession or not, there is a human element here. And it's the human element that drives me, draws me and compels me to keep loving in this way. It's the real intersection of life and death, hope and loss that somehow keeps me upright and aware of how precious life is. And I have learned that to feel is to have emotion... and I dare say... even show it.

I've learned to importance of forgiveness and grace. I've learned how grudges serve no purpose unless one wishes to be robbed of joy. I've learned that the ego can be a thief, running away with our truest sense of worth and accessibility. I've learned that regret is another form of twisted pride. It serves no good purpose. It merely turns into a quiet baseball bat with which to beat yourself.

I've learned that acceptance, grace and humility are not signs of weakness. I've learned that hope is real even though I may not have the vocabulary to really pinpoint it. I've learned that seizing the day is as close to truth as one could possibly imagine.

And I've learned that being teachable is the greatest gift to yourself.

I say "I learned". No I haven't mastered any of it. I'm learning instead. I hope to be a life long student. I hope to always find gratitude even in the face of loss... because it's not the loss that's the point.

It's the gift of time spent, of time given and the grace to accept it.

Be right where you are. Be here. Be now. And be love.

 

Summer 2012 in the Rear View...

...and steadily headed down the road where, up ahead, I spy deciduous trees choc-full of flames of color enhanced by the pungent aroma of cinnamon, spice and everything that's pumpkin-y and nice.  I anticipate the feel of crackling bonfires and the eventual rank smell that soaks into your hair and clothes after a bon-firey night of downing libations and smores.

But I'm not quite there yet. 

I linger at the proverbial rest area, waiting for Fall to make it's full presence known.  And so with this season of "limbo", let us all take a moment to reflect on the summer of 2012.

The AC is still cranked on to a steady 73.  I still apply bug spray in the mornings before my hour of hard-core zen running and traipsing along the river.  So while it may still feel like summer, I know that it's end is within view.  It's not that I wish to rush this one out for the new to come.  Rather, it's the anticipation, the electricity in the air that, for Rachel, has always been a part of the Autumn experience.

Let's begin this reflection with this: The Garage. 

I was able to witness the completion not only of this seemingly small and unobstrusive structure, but also the big final sign off and &*%@ you to Bank of America.  With a refinancing of my humble abode upon it's coat tails, BofA no longer serves its purpose as a wart upon my existential perimeter.  It was a "weight" of an entirely different nature, lifted not only off of my shoulders, but also off of my heart and mind. 

Sealed with a kiss and stealth middle finger, I must ask for the forgiveness of my more sensitive readers.  It's honest.  It's true.  And I flick them off still.  Buh bye BofA.  I never say never... for this I make an exception.  Never again.

I discovered a whole new level of resolve and motivation by completing a six week bootcamp with X-Team Fitness.  I was challenged, cheered, humored and accepted by a whole team of folks who helped me do crazy things like scale walls, swim in the river, run in and around all of the beautiful hidden places within this awesome river city.  I fell and got scraped and bruised.  I flipped my own mind to believe that I can do anything.  I have founded myself a whole community of people as diverse as diverse can be who all work toward a common goal... getthing through this hour alive and in one piece. 

And now, having been donned with a shirt that reads "X Team Leader"... I'm all the more humbled and excited about how I am able to encourage my team mates as they have encouraged me.  Reciprocity.  Yes please.

I spent some quality time with the Outer Banks, falling all the more in love with my nieces and nephew... not fully able to comprehend how much my heart skips a beat at the sight of that 13 month old mini-me.  Even when she is fussy and cranky... I just want to eat her up.  And the time with my cousins and those other people I'm related to too.  Did I mention I have a 13 month old neicie?

Knocked a few things off my bucket-list with a quick jaunt to the Big Apple.  Experienced the sensory overload of Roger Water's Wall and the all the theatrics involved in said display.  Got hit on by a drunken local who talked like "The Situation" and acted like a really terrible side-character from a no-name sitcom. 

Spied the Empire State building and Lady Liberty.  Paid homage to John Lennon's memorial in Strawberry Fields.  Posed with a half naked cowboy just cuz.  Actually touched and attempted to absorb the genius and depth of Carnegie Hall... I could just feel the brillance.  I ran my fingers along it's outer brick wall until we reached the end of the sidewalk.  Almost lost my life in a NYC taxi cab but atleast had my wine in a to-go cup complete with lid.  And lastly, visited the somber site known as "Ground Zero", and touched the only remaining tree that survived that day.

It was a tree-hugger's dream.

The summer concluded with a beautiful and Corrolla-like bang, complete with Gin and Tonic's, sun burns, wild horses and home-made light shows care of creatively intoxicated friends.  Whether Tool, Bats For Lashes or Lisa Loeb, I know a wonderful group of folks who not only exhibit musical prowess beyond delight, but a certain humor and quirk to boot... making it seem all the more "artistic." 

I take a deep breath, eased by the utter enjoyment that this summer has brought.  Sure puts last summer in the shadows... I was happy to have it over with.  I'm ready to move on this time too... except, with a belly full of contentment rather than angst. 

I continue to learn and grow.  I continue to participate in the sometimes tedious work of being self-aware.  And I have acclamated a certain liberty and freedom that I've never had before.  Perhaps it's because I now embrace my flaws?  Perhaps it's because I am no longer afraid of communication?  I don't know. 

What I do know is this: I'm pleased with Summer 2012.  Let's see what new adventures are in store with the advent of my most favorite season.  It's Autumn 2012 or bust.

Bitches.

Times.... They Are A-Changing

I loved their honey mustard. 
I frequently enjoyed the waffle fries.  Mix a little mayo with the ketchup and dip away... yes sir.
The chocolate milk shakes?  Man, completely delicious.

Then I stopped eating meat.

I haven't eaten there for over a year.  I've often reflected on the succulent chicken patty... sandwiched between two pieces of smushed yet warm bun, with that nice little sunken indention of the dill pickle slices.  You know, it makes the part of the bun green where it settled?  Yeah, that's what I'm talking about.

So good.  So yummy.

But it's so 365 days ago. 

This was a decision based solely on my own leanings toward vegetarianism.  I have my reasons.  I'll keep them to myself at this time as my vegetarianism is not the purpose of this posting.

As a matter of fact, I'm still trying to figure what the point of this entry actually is. 

It's not news that Chic-Fil-A is making headlines due to the company's stance on gay-marriage.  Just about every location in the Richmond/Tri-Cities area hosted lines upon lines of folks just waiting to sink their teeth into the very same sandwich I was once so fond of. 

And I can't say I blame them.  It's a good sandwich.

A very good sandwich.

And I find that it's a shame, even for this meatless eater, that the sandwich is now shadowed by the perhaps "soured" flavor of it's president's political/religious beliefs.  I mean, it's not the sandwich's fault is it?  And what about the waffle fries?  Should they be punished?

I know it's not about the chicken.  Nor is it about the fact that the very same restaurant is closed on Sundays (which may or may not be for the purpose of religious observation though it's mostly safe to assume that it is). 

I feel the issue we have here is Freedom of Speech, which, without apology, I support 100 %.

It is my opinion that the moment this freedom is questioned/challenged, it is of utmost importance that every American(regardless of political party and personal beliefs) should immediately pull out the picket signs and stand firm.  To threaten this precious freedom would be a sort of regression beyond sexuality and contraception; beyond one's interpretation of "family values" "Christian principles"; beyond religion, race, creed and the like.

It is the oppression of our voice.

Your voice.

My voice.

The distraction, I feel, is in this hubbub... this attention... this energy from either side given to this man's comments.

I get the fear and agitation on either side of this issue.  This is a very personal and private topic for some, a religious issue for others.  But what, pray tell, is really being addressed by this display?  That a company's president chooses to uphold "traditional family values"?  Is this really new? 

Probably not.  As a matter of fact, you probably work with someone who believes completely differently than you.  Your kids play with the children of political polar opposites from you.  Some of these people you actually like, click with, get along with. 

I've been to two PRIDE festivals.  Those within the safe perimeter of the LBGT gathering may not look or act quite as one might think.  If you've never been, go.  Many look normal.  A lot are heterosexual.  Whole straight families with 2.5 children and a dog and cat attend as a show of support and solidarity.  These displays of nuclear family-ism at an "alternative life style" festival would suggest to me that "traditional family values" aren't threatened at all.  Family values can very much be the same, even if they look different. 

Along the outer perimeter typically stands those who picket, using their freedom of speech to articulate (though it's more yelling) their views, typically religious in nature.  But here's the thing... there's no communication.  And that goes for either side.  There is staring; yelling; mocking; and venomous slurs that are tossed back and forth.  There is no real conversation, no attempt at understanding and no interest in building any sort of rapport.

So it would seem very much the same with the debaucle of the tasty chicken sandwich's president.  He has his beliefs.  I have mine.  And as citizens of the same the nation I would also like to think that we could agree to disagree and still dine together at the same table... much like the story of Jesus and his 12 smelly buddies (or "disciples" as they are known in most Christian circles... but let's face it, they were probably a little ripe... which also further supports why they enjoyed the social luxury of wine... yes, I said wine).

Who knows, perhaps it could be in such a setting, maybe even within the very threshold of this corporation's premises, that a conversation could take place? a relationship could begin? and understanding might even ensue? 

Or perhaps standing in line, sandwiched between the very one's who wouldn't be caught dead at your cousin's gay wedding?  That doesn't mean you have to convince them that gay is okay... it simply means that those with varying opinions are, at the very least, still human. 

Very black and white in thinking?  Maybe.

But human. 

I'm not quite sure who needs Jesus more.

Sigh.  If it's a pipe dream then so be it.  I believe in hope and I believe in humanity... even when we continue to treat each other like assholes and claim to always be owners of the "Truth". 

It is my human right to dream this.

And dream it I shall.  If the lion is truly to lay down with the lamb... then for the love of All That Is... someone make the first move.