Day by Day 7 - Seeing Ourselves in God's Face

Friday, February 20/09

We arrived at the last day of our trip, and it would prove to be a jam-packed day. After our breakfast in the hotel, we headed out to see the Shrine of Guadalupe. I was not expecting much from this tour, but it proved to be the most meaningful part of the day, despite the huge Catholic setting. I had never heard of this shrine or the miracle before, but I saw echoes of our own story in it. Guadalupe is actually a painting around which a shrine and a town were built. Many pilgrimages have been made there since 1532.

Our guides explained that Juan Diego, an indigenous Mexican, saw an apparition of Mary in a blanket which was carrying roses. This is the short version of the story. The Mary he saw had indigenous features on her, in other words, she was Mexican not Caucasian like the Spaniards. This had a huge impact on the spread of Catholicism within Mexico. Before then, Mexicans were suspicious of this new God and his dying Son. But when they saw Mary was like them, they began to believe, and they began to make pilgrimages to the spot where the miracle happened. It struck me that this was a perfect example of "transcend and include". They had to include their own identity in the new God before they could transcend the religion of their past.

As our guide explained this, I was also struck by our own crew at Watershed. In leaving the conference, we did not see our "faces" for a while in the new world away from what we'd known. For me, studying scripture in recent years and seeing Christ and the cruciform path in a deeper way is the face that helped me embrace the new. As I saw the statue of the pilgrimage the Mexicans made to Guadalupe (seen in one of the photos), I found myself grateful for my own pilgrimage along with you all at Watershed. 

Interestingly, as we looked at the painting commemorating this vision, our guides and other members of the group, whom I had not heard talk in "religious" language during the week, now began to talk of miracles. One teacher excitedly said that he had studied the painting and had heard how there is not known paint on her cloak. Scientists can not explain it. "And," he said enthusiastically, "Scientists have studied the painting under microscopes and have seen that the right eye alone has 12 people in it." Erik our guide said that we need to remain open to miracles. Marcos said that a cousin of his whose life was going downhill with alcoholism, became healed when he asked for a miracle at the Shrine.  Maybe these places of pilgrimage open us all up to the miraculous in life.

We walked around and I enthusiastically bought cross necklaces for the gals and had them sprinkled with holy water from someone who looked like a priest. I found myself praying for Paul here and asked for his healing. It was strangely a moving experience. 

One interesting fact from this tour was how the ancient buildings (hundred of years old) are starting to sink and lean dangerously. They are bracing up the church and trying to fix it, but it looked like a daunting project to me! I took a picture for Cal and Eldon (can you see the angle of the church compared to the straight building beside it?) 

From here we drove out to see the pyramids, about a 45 minute drive outside Mexico City. We saw a lot of poverty outside the bus window, very poor looking homes in grey, concrete ghetto like areas. We received a lot of teaching here in the pyramid area, and then we went to climb to the top. We made the trek up to the top of the Pyramid of the Sun, like I had seen in the Lonely Planet video with Lyle. It was getting hot out, but we all made it up the steep steps. Miraculously, we saw butterflies swooping around at the very top, not monarchs, but some other kind of butterfly. Erik explained that for some mysterious reason, these butterflies are often at this very location, doing a mating dance. It was quite beautiful up there.

Going down, we had to walk the gauntlet of shops and hawkers, ready to sell their wares. I practiced "ignoring them" by looking down and not offering any encouragement whatsoever, which went against the "be nice" attitude of a 2 :-). We were told that if we dared look at them, they would hound us to the ends of the earth until we bought what they were selling. Marcos told us, in his Mexican accent, "Stay-uh strong!" It was however, fun buying some last minute souvenirs, among which were the Aztec calendar for Paul and Bev, a t-shirt for Lyle, and a Mexican shirt for myself. 

Next on our whirl wind tour was our trip to see the Diego Riveria murals at the National Palace in Mexico City. I had heard of Riveria but only vaguely, and we saw these amazing huge murals which depicted the history of Mexico. It was fascinating but at this point I was on "information overload" and not much was sinking in! After this, we walked to see an archeological site where there are some Aztec ruins, found in the heart of Mexico when they were digging a new subway.

We headed back to the hotel with a bit of time to get ready for our "farewell supper". We walked to a local restaurant. We ordered supper and people could say whatever they wanted to about their trip. Many got teared up as they spoke (not me though, I was too tired). My speech however was heartfelt. I said the quote about the pilgrimage which Lorna had given me, "What was the purpose of our pilgrimage? To let a new intelligence prevail." Over and over again people said how one of the highlights of the trip had been meeting all the great people on the tour. I agreed with them all about that. Marcos and Erik had made this a great trip with their knowledgeable teaching, sprinkled with kindness and humanity and wisdom.

Day by Day 6 - Time and Being Transformed

Thursday, Feb. 19/09

The week had already felt so full, and I was realizing that it was drawing to a close. Time was speeding by quickly. Only two more days and I'd be heading home. This morning I felt like I had received so much already that if the trip was over now, I wouldn't be disappointed. 

We had breakfast at the hotel in the city of Patzcuaro. (One of today's photos is taken off the balcony outside my hotel room. There's another of my hotel room door.) Breakfast usually consisted of lots of fruit, hot dishes such as eggs, hash browns and the ever present tortillas, yogurt, and great coffee. Today's destination was the the small city of Tzintzuntzan, located on the eastern shore of Lake Patzcuaro, the lake whose islands we had visited the day before. The city was founded in the 13th century by the Perepucha people and its name means "The place of the hummingbirds" (though I did not see any there).

Tzintzuntzan was the capital for the Perepucha people when the Spaniards arrived in 1522.I learned that when the Spaniards came, they were said to be all powerful and very destructive, but what really killed off 90% of the Perepucha people was smallpox during the conquest. Much destruction happened and the city was largely dismantled to provide stones for Roman Catholic temples and monasteries. Look closely in one of the pictures of the Catholic churches, you will see stones from the pyramids with ancient symbols on them. In ancient times these were covered up, but in modern times, these stones have been uncovered and are now considered a part of their history. 

We spent the morning in a local outdoor museum, where we saw the still standing ruins of 5 ancient pyramid-type structures called "Yacatas" that were not entirely destroyed. (You can see them in miniature in one of the photos). 

In one of the photos you can see Erik M. drawing in the sand. He is demonstrating the ancient way of telling time, not just daily time but time over the years. Imagine 3 wheels, each larger than the other (pictured in the sand). Each wheel has cogs so that as 1 wheel turns, they all turn. The smallest wheel is 260 days long and is considered the sacred year (some think it is because we spend about 260 days in the womb). The middle wheel is the solar year, 365 days and the largest wheel is the Venus year (584 days). When the smallest wheel turns 20 times (20 is the base number in ancient numerology, like 10 for us), the whole calender resets itself. It takes 52 years to do this, and every 52 years was like reaching a new century. Incidentally, one was not considered wise until one reached the age of 52. 

We learned that the year 2012 is another reset year, but bigger than that,it's another reset time within 2500 years. Some people think that something ominous will happen in that year. Erik pointed out that whether something happens that year or not, climate change is reaching its fullest ramifications these days, so it might be related to that. This whole talk was probably one of the most interesting parts of the day.

I haven't written directly about Erik Mollenhauer, our New Jersey guide. I have spoken of him as a "good soul" and a kindred spirit. He is very knowledgeable and very kind and human to boot. I very much enjoyed being his student for a week. (He might be coming to Wpg. this summer with his wife for the conference. He's the one I told Watershed would put on a feast for him...or at least have him for supper!)  I had an interesting conversation with him where he told me about some great books he's read. In one of them, he learned of the Buddha's story. What struck me was how the Buddha was told at the outset of his life to go and learn from everything he could. He did that, learning from difficult events, from storytellers, from suffering, from books. In the end, he was considered a great saint but he knew he wasn't really that at all, he had just learned from everything, not judging anything as good or bad.

Retelling this story to me, Erik paused and said, "I learned this late in my life, that I am to learn from everything. One of my regrets is that I learned it so late." My answer to him was that it was so great that he learned it at all because many people never see this lesson at all. It was a good interchange.

After the museum we went into the village where we shopped some more. There was a lot of weaving stuff available and this is where I bought the skeleton pipes for our guys. I also bought a woven skeleton for myself (and for school next fall). During this day I also saw a bird called the Vermillion flycatcher, my first time for this bird, so that was exciting.  We also saw a black backed Oriole. 

In the afternoon we drove to the present day capital of Michoacan, called Morelia. It was a large city and it was actually getting hot outside, so a few of us kind of wandered around without too much enthusiasm. I think some of us were realizing that the trip was drawing to a close. We were headed back to Mexico City later that day, and we were no longer in the beautiful mountains. I had a coffee that afternoon which later kept me up till past 2 a.m.

During the long bus ride back to Mexico City, there were some excellent conversations on the bus. I was sitting with Mary Lenahan, a teacher with a strong accent from New York. She was very engaging and very kind. She was very curious about Louis Riel and the Metis in Canada. She was surprised to learn that Metis was not a derogatory term, like Mulatto was in the USA. This branched out to a conversation with others about Canadian vs. US politics, history. I was surprised to learn that there had been slavery in Canada. All in all it was a great way to pass several hours on the bus (during which we passed through a big rain).

A book called The Aztec Book of Destiny was being passed around the bus. This was where we could find out where and what we were on the Aztec calendar, based on our birth dates. I found out I was 12 jaguar (my totem identity). This is where I found out that Paul is 12 serpent. It described him as "very literate, and very gifted with words, and that he would use these gifts to help others." He was also destined to walk a spiritual path in his life, which would not always be easy, but would include the road of trials. This would form him as a spiritual leader. Given that he was on my mind so much with his illness, these seemed like good and true words.  

Some of what I read about my own totem seemed to hit home. One thing I remember is that they are philosophers at heart and ponder the meaning of life and their place in the universe, and may align themselves with religion or science. If they do not take the time and effort to pursue this they will feel unfulfilled and listless. This reminded me of the verse, "Do not be conformed to the pattern of this world but be transformed by the renewal of your mind so that you may discern what is the will of God." This verse is my personal totem.

Day by Day 5 - God's Abundant Hospitality

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

The day began with a prayer for guidance and help. No matter what the level of physical health was, I didn't want to go through another day with an undercurrent of anger to it. I also recalled again the nature of the trip - pilgrim not tourist, and aches or pains took a better perspective. The previous day's depression had been replaced by an outlook beyond myself, which I felt very grateful for - I could not have done that myself. As with the rest of the week, I was also carrying a new awareness of Paul's situation, and he was in my prayers. 

The destination of this day was our trip to the school. We had a short bus ride to a lake, where we all boarded a boat that would take us to an island called "La Pacanda", one of five islands in the beautiful Patzcuaro Lake. People of the Purepecha culture live on these islands, a culture which historically was not defeated by the Aztecs. Despite this proud history, the culture has been largely squelched over the years, much like our Aboriginal culture in Canada. Purepecha people who migrate to the States are looked down upon by their fellow Mexicans. They speak an indigenous language besides Spanish. Their language (also called Purepecha) has nothing of Spanish in it, showing their ancient roots. In recent years, the Purepecha people are making attempts to honor this ancient culture. The school we were going to visit was a Purepecha/Spanish bilingual school. 

The trip to the island by boat included a good talk with Barry and Helen, a couple from Ontario. They had deeper interests which they enjoyed talking about. Helen practices meditation and Barry works with delayed students and has a heart for them. He is a chemistry teacher. They both have a great sense of humor. I told them a bit about Watershed, and about Paul. For the rest of the week, they kept asking how he was doing. They came down with traveler's sickness the next day.

We arrived on the island and I for one was feeling nervous. We would be going into classrooms and sharing the material we had brought (my class made a book for the kids, plus I had Canada pins and flags). I also had a game to teach which didn't require too much language, since I didn't speak Spanish. I didn't particularly feel like taking a risk, but in we went. 

I learned this day what being a good host is all about. If I felt nervous, these kind, gentle people made it easy for us. We went into classrooms similar to what we taught, so I went to Grade 3/4. Students stood and introduced themselves and we began to mingle. My nervousness and hesitation melted away as students enjoyed seeing everyone's gifts. I never did the game I had planned because the students loved seeing Brownie the beaver. He was a hit among all the mascots because he was so life-like and he was a puppet. This silly mascot broke down barriers. I was digging up Spanish that I learned on the spot as I interacted. It sounds corny to say it, but the day began to have this magical feel to it. Maybe it was because of the connections we made despite our differences. 

We went to different classrooms around the semi-outdoor school. Friendly dogs wandered around and the sun was shining. Women were cooking our lunch in outdoor fire pits, and all in all, the setting and the hospitality combined to create a great experience. The lunch spread was amazing. The school put on a "show" for us, with traditional dances, which ended with all of us going up to do a group dance.

After the lunch, our group presented them with school supplies and with a large cash donation. Speeches were made in Spanish and English, and some people had tears as they spoke. Many people seemed to be filled with gratitude as I was. Erik M. had a speech which I found the most moving, in which he quoted a poem written by an ancient Mexican philosopher emperor:

"Is it true? We are here for only a little while?

Let us at least leave behind flowers.

Let us at least leave behind songs."

These kind people embodied this poem for me, and were a witness to abundance.

We finally left the island around 3 p.m. and headed by boat to another island (seen in one of the pictures), the island of Janitzio. There we wandered around the shops. I should probably mention the phenomenon of "souvenir shopping". I had a wary relationship to this at first, but as the week wore on, I enjoyed shopping for people more and more. I was always aware of the tug between the temptation to buy everything and the pull to rest in being content with what I had. In the end, I actually feel I was a bit too cautious. I regret not having brought back more of a physical reminder of my time there. However, though it may be cliche to say it, the truest souvenirs are not physical.

In the evening, we went back to the mainland and drove to the city we were supposed to visit the day before - Patzcuaro, which was the original capital of the state of Michoacan. A highlight there was seeing lots of crafts from the Mexican holiday "Days of the dead". This is like All Saints Day. The souls of the departed are remembered, and the returning monarch butterflies are said to be the souls returning each Nov. 1 & 2. There are many skeletons in the crafts, and they are a symbol of resurrection.

Day by Day 4 - Murmuring Replaced by Hope

Tuesday, Feb. 17, 2009

A line from Burroughs gave me a way of starting this day's entry. On the evils of murmuring against God, he says, "To have a murmuring heart when God has been a long time exercising them with affliction is more evil." This day saw me giving in to this evil, but also forgiven. 

I woke with a headache this day, which had been my top fear about the trip. Though I have often written about all the things God has taught me during this affliction, I immediately felt angry and despairing. "Why now?" is what I murmured, instead of trusting. While I took my meds, and the symptoms began to evaporate, I still felt out of sorts emotionally, fearing a string of days like this would "ruin" the trip.

Nevertheless, I entered the day, and looked forward to going to our second monarch colony, at Sierra Chincua, the less touristy location. As I usually do, I tried to tune out the background of circumstances and attend to what was going on. The day and the setting couldn't have been more beautiful. I was reminded of the mountains of B.C. as my group hiked for part of the way along a mountain trail and then rode horses along the steep, rocky part (the other group rode horses the whole way). When we finally arrived at the colonies, we were standing among the clusters, and there were thousands of monarchs. This display was much more dramatic that the day before, and we stood in awe as the monarchs cascaded down along the mountains, in an orange stream. We stayed for about an hour and then slowly began our hike back, first with horses and then walking. 

On the ride up, I talked to a woman on the tour who was a mom from Atlanta. She had two young boys at home and she worked part time as a naturalist. We shared stories about our kids and our life back home. It was only once we'd arrived back that we heard about Ellen's fall off the horse. We saw people gathered around the truck and saw that Ellen, a senior on the trip, had broken her arm quite badly. As I shared at a Sunday morning, I am sad to confess that at this juncture, I reminded myself of George Costanza on Seinfeld, where he shoves people out of the way to get out of the fire, thinking only of himself first. When asked to give up my jacket, I had an inner moment's hesitation, thinking of my own comfort and when and if I'd get my jacket back. The anger I had felt at the beginning of the day was still with me, and the lack of trust. This moment was a snapshot of my soul without trust in God's provision.

As we waited for all the details of her transport to get sorted out (there were many attending her), I spotted a child and reached in my bag to hand out a Canada pin, as I had been throughout the trip. Suddenly this one, semi-cute kid turned into a throng of runny-nosed, poor, greedy children, wordlessly asking that they too be given a hand-out. There was no chance for romanticizing the foreign children here since they were not too endearing at this point! More likely, in them I saw my own greed reflected. 

The rest of the day's plans (which had been to go to M0relia, the present day capital of Michoacan), were put on hold as we began to travel to a hospital.  Someone had thoughtfully and hurriedly bought a stack of quesadillas to eat on the bus as we began our descent. The hours drew on and on as we detoured for Ellen. Miraculously, her friend had found some ductape and cardboard among the passengers' possessions, which helped her make a makeshift cast to prevent the arm from moving. Someone else had some high powered pain killers which the friend (a retired physician)  knew that Ellen could safely take. Finally, the bus met up with the Mexican ambulance, who took her to the hospital. 

We ourselves also went to the hospital to see if she would be joining us. Marcos stayed with her for help translating into Spanish, and Arlene stayed as the expert medical person. (After an overnight stay, it was decided that both friends would travel home in the morning, since she needed emergency surgery for the shattered bone). After stopping somewhere for a late supper, we arrived back at the new hotel, tired but glad Ellen had found her way and was receiving care.

As if a mirror of Ellen's misfortune, this was the night that I found out about the seriousness of Paul's illness in a phone call with Lyle. He told me of the ambulance ride to the hospital, of Paul's worrying symptoms and his extreme pain. My afflictions paled in comparison.

One of the bits of wisdom I'd heard that day came from Marcos, who told us that the word for hope is the same word as to wait, in Spanish. The word "Espero" had this double meaning. And so it was that I went to bed with a prayer for forgiveness. Ellen's break had shown me the darkness of murmuring, how it disconnects us from our heart, and from compassion and connection from others and ultimately from God. I prayed to be forgiven for my selfishness. I also prayed that I might be given another chance. I also prayed for Ellen, for Paul and Bev, and all those in dire circumstances. I read the quote from the gals and waited and hoped in God. When I awoke in the morning, sick again, there was another presence with me. My complaining had been replaced with a peace that was certainly not my own making.

The quote which I read that night in the hotel room was one from Lorna, "And what was the purpose of our pilgrimage? To let a new intelligence prevail." This new intelligence certainly looks a lot like trusting in God in all of life, and totally opposite from angrily wishing life went "our way". 

Day by Day 3 - God's Expansive World

Monday, Feb. 16, 2009

This morning I woke up to roosters crowing outside my window, not to mention birds I'd never heard before (though I couldn't see them). I took a shower in the lush shower room and went to the restaurant where a cook would make anything you asked for from his spread. It was, as I've said, a mini-Eden we were in.

Today would prove to be one of the most enjoyable days, though I always have to be wary with that, because I am so prone to hanging on to that feeling of happiness. We boarded the bus and for the next 2 hours we heard the bus brakes squeaking as the driver wound carefully around tight mountain roads that were never designed for tourist buses. It was always a bit unnerving to look out the window and see steep drops off the cliffs.

As with many of the bus rides, our guides used the time to teach us about where we were going. Today we learned about land ownership in Mexico. In Mexico, there is something called an "ejido" (pronounced ee-HEE-do), which was a division of land given to groups of families prior to 1930. Fifty to a hundred families were given a piece of an ejido, and sometimes a family would sell their section of it. Each family had to choose which member of the family would farm the ejido. The who who farms their 5+ acres is called an "Ejitotario". 

The reason this was significant to our day's trip was that El Rosario, the most famous of the butterfly sanctuaries, is owned as an ejido. Even though El Rosario is protected by a modern logging ban to conserve the sanctuaries, Ejitotarios often want to reserve their more ancient right to cut the trees, even if the land is presently protected by the ban.  It is a battle that goes on every year, with police guarding the areas with guns, only to be bribed by ejitatarios with money. As we walked up the many stairs to the sanctuaries, we could see the heartbreaking evidence of clear cutting and trees that were now stumps.

The day became quite expansive as we entered the sanctuaries. The climb at over 9000 feet above sea level was, as I've said, daunting, and I paused quite often. Erik explained that everyone would feel this way, no matter what shape you were in since it takes over 2 weeks for your body to produce enough red blood cells at this elevation. So that made us feel a bit better with all our huffing and puffing. 

I have written already about the "moment" when I stood looking out over a clear cutted area which was dotted with the first monarchs, and I worried if I would "feel" anything. Despite this worry, my heart was feeling full of gratitude, and I had the strong reply in my mind, that "it wasn't about me". I felt that this was all so beautiful and miraculous that my presence was not even needed. The miracle of the monarch and its migration and seemingly impossible survival went on in the world without me even being there. As I've sat with different memories over the weeks, this one remains as one of the sharpest.

As I continued on the trek up, walking with some of the others, we were always passed by people on their way down who were smiling and telling us the trek was worth it. And then we arrived, and saw the rust colored branches, heavy with monarch clusters. It was different than I had imagined it, which was probably due to the tourist aspect. The area where the clusters were was roped off so we were "looking in". (The colony the next day would prove to be quite different, with us being right in the midst of everything.)

There was a hushed tone to everyone in the sanctuary, as people naturally felt the spiritual nature of the place. The monarchs flying in the warming sun sounded like a wind around us, though no wind was stirring. I saw 4 Mexican men carrying a stretcher with a woman tied on to it, another moment I shared in my e-mails. They were very careful and quietly respectful of her as they untied her and gently helped her sit in a spot to witness the butterflies. I was very moved to see her. I could only imagine the lot she'd had to bear in life, and the planning and dedication and perhaps miracles that even got her here. She was definitely not defined by her illness and she was a great witness to me. I asked Marcos to ask her in Spanish if she would mind if I took her picture. "Tell her that I am touched by her courage to come here." Marcos quietly relayed my message and she beamed a smile at me that meant yes. Seeing her was in a way exactly parallel to seeing the miracle of the monarchs' survival and beauty.

People wandered around and spoke quietly and just witnessed the monarchs for about an hour, and then the time dictated that we start to head down. I was actually "on assignment" to buy some souvenirs to bring to the workshop this summer in Wpg., so I began to hurry down, but before I knew it, I got thoroughly lost in the woods. Don't ask me how that happened. I knew that the path was to my left where in the distance I heard voices, so I kept stumbling through the woods, without a path, and after about 10 minutes found my way back. I never felt worried.

The trek through the souvenir stands was a bit panicky for me, since time was running out and I had "money to spend". I didn't like that feeling (since I generally don't like shopping) but I was doing it for a larger cause so I stuck to my task. It turned out that as the days went by, I started to enjoy buying souvenirs more and more. 

I met up with Erik M. and some others in a tiny outdoor eatery and we all ordered a few quesadillas which the ladies made on an open fire. They were so great and we enjoyed our impromptu meal together. I shared with Erik my witnessing moment from earlier, and he said he appreciated hearing the story and shared one of his own with a similar theme which he had had a year earlier. It was a good conversation. 

There were other good conversations with people that day which I've since forgotten. My journal which were getting shorter every day, just says "good conversations, and good connections with people".

That evening after supper I began to blog for the students at school, and greatly enjoyed that. Writing from the perspective of the mascot was a very fun way to relate to the kids, one that I knew they'd enjoy at school with the help of the computer teacher. (When I got some replies the next day, it was even more fun.) I also wrote a few e-mails about the day to Watershed and to my sister Lorie. There were about 3 of us around the computers in the Internet room and we were enjoying writing to various people. One woman said, "I don't usually tear up when I write," and it captured how we all felt. My heart felt very full this day and I went to bed way too late. The "high" experience would come down soon enough the next morning when I would wake up sick. However, the thought was often with me of being a pilgrim not a vacationer, which always brought with it the reminder that, no matter the inner weather, it was "not about me". The day had brought with it a witness to the expansive reality of God's miracles.

Day by Day 2 - Accompanied

Sunday, Feb. 15, 2009

I woke up in my Mexican hotel room, forgetting at first where I was, as one does while traveling. What came back to me first was my memory of feeling lonely and depressed the night before. Then in that parallel way of a life accompanied by God, I remembered something besides the human angle of things - the quote the night before from the gals, and the prayers for God to be with me, and I joined the others downstairs for breakfast, more heartened and ready to greet the new. A spread in the hotel restaurant was waiting for us, and we began our day.

As would be the case of each day following, the Greyhound size bus was waiting for us outside. We filled our water bottles each day from a large jug (tap water might make us sick), and boarded the bus. I sat beside Kris Snavely, a blonde woman from South Dakota who became my "bus buddy" (a way of keeping attendance). We began our long journey to the state of Michoacan, the butterfly state which had the mountains where the monarchs overwintered. Leaving Mexico City was a steady climb uphill throughout the 3+ hour trip, and we passed out of the smog of the big city into beautiful mountainous terrain. Our first view of the monarchs was on the signs in the small mountain villages, where many shops had the name of "Monarca" in them. I enjoyed getting to know Kris, a Grade 7/8 teacher who made me appreciate a school system not created by Bush. She was laboring under some pretty crazy expectations.

The most enjoyable part of the morning for me was the official introductions of everyone on the trip. The bus microphone was passed from person to person, and each one told where they were from and what had brought them on this trip. I got a bit teary (I know, it's surprising) when I told my story of being supported by my church community and how despite the odds, you all supported my vocation by telling me, "You're going," when my administrator was cautious. There was some spontaneous clapping when I told everyone of your support. I also mentioned that this was a spiritual journey, for myself and for everyone in some way. A Canadian woman named Helen from Ontario later told me she was glad I had said that since no one else had mentioned the spiritual aspect of our trip. I really enjoyed hearing everyone's stories and the group I had felt disconnected to the evening before now seemed like a unique and human bunch of folks. I and the other 6 Canadians felt proud of being Canadian, and at least I reveled in telling people the stories of snow, and of our relatively short monarch season.

We stopped at a gas station for refreshments, then went on until we came to our destination, a small mountain town. We walked to the place that would be our lunch stop in a few hours, and agreed to meet back there after we all got a chance to tour around. The village was just beautiful, with Sunday outdoor markets in full swing. We had been told not to buy anything to eat from the street vendors, even though it looked so good, because it would likely make us sick. The highest point in the village was a huge Catholic church, made from the stones of the Aztec structures which the Spanish conquerers destroyed. There was mass going on every half hour, and many families dressed made their pilgrimage there for a short mass. We stepped inside briefly. A Saint named Carmen was the patron saint of this church, and the figures of Peter and Paul were carved on the side of the church. I was humored by a busker in the form of an old Mexican man, whose guitar was totally out of tune. But when I put 10 pesos in his hat, he sang his heart out for me.

Lunch in the small restaurant was delicious, and was my first taste of authentic Mexican food. The restaurant was extremely beautiful inside, and used to be part of the silver mine. I sat beside Arlene and Dawn, who were friends. Arlene was a retired emergency room physician and Dawn was the woman who would break her arm a few days later. Arlene told the story of her 4 year old grandson whom she retired to care for, who has a very rare disease which has made his development very delayed. At 4, he was just learning how to walk. I admired her resilience in the face of this difficult lot in life, and her obvious love for the boy.

After lunch (and our first experience trying to pay in pesos), we drove to the silver mine, where we learned of the mine which was shut down in the '50's and where many many young men had met a young death from lung disease. Not coincidentally, there was a museum of crucifixes there, each one testifying to the suffering this town had bore for many years.

After much teaching from Erik and Marcos, we headed back down the narrow mountain roads. We stopped once so Marcos could show us a typical Mexican cactus which had been used long ago to make the glue for the pyramid stones. On our way to the hotel, Erik told us not to expect the quality of hotel we had seen in Mexico City. We later saw that he had been joking, since this was the lavish resort. The best feature in my opinion was the Internet room where I could finally write to everyone and phone Lyle as well. It was great to talk to people. 

Later after supper, Erik invited anyone who wanted to to come out into the field for a mini-star gazing lesson. This is the one I e-mailed about back then. What stood out for me was Erik's lesson on the star Venus, and how at certain times it is a morning star and other times is an evening star. The ancient culture took that to mean the two faces of the gods, one was the god of choice and the other the god of fate. The god of choice gives wisdom and the god of fate is the trickster god. These are the two realities I had before me at the beginning of the day - human fate in all our weakness and the choice to trust in God. These two realities are always with us, inextricably bound. Thank God we are not left to our own devices.

Day by Day 1 - Claiming God's Hold on me

During this morning's meeting, I had the thought of how I could begin to sit with my experience more deeply, and that is to re-live the trip, day by day. I had the image of sifting through each day's experiences like a miner for the boon.  Today's post will be the Friday/Saturday experience of the trip (Feb. 13/14) Thank you all by the way for teasing me about my worries about finding the boon :-)

It felt like a dream to actually leave school early on Friday, say good-bye to the kids and bring my plans into action, but leave I did. I packed what I thought was too much stuff (and later I saw that compared to others, I had actually brought very little), and was ready when Lyle and Joel were ready to take me to the airport. I hadn't done anything like this (flying on my own), since going to Egypt/Israel so long ago in my early 20's. We had supper together, I gave my winter jacket to Lyle and we said our good-bye's (and said good-bye to Cal who called on the cell) and then I was on my own, heading towards the waiting area.

I met who I thought was a guardian in the waiting room, a couple from Winnipeg. When I told them I was a teacher on some PD to Mexico to see the monarchs, the husband began ribbing me quite a bit. "Oh, this is where our tax dollars are going hey?!"  He also teased me that I didn't bring the right ID, and that I'd probably get bumped off the flight . I laughed along with him, but he didn't know the double edge of his jokes - that I already thought I was breaking the rules by going, the rules of proper procedure and "what a teacher should do" (especially according to my boss). It reminded me that I was going as a pilgrimage, called by God, not as a vacation with permission granted from humans. In many ways, before, during and after the trip, I have been challenged to claim my "true reasons", which is to say, claim God's hold on me rather than humans.

I felt privileged to meet Verda's co-worker while waiting in the TO airport for my

luggage, who told me about her brother in TO who was diagnosed with cancer. Terry was visiting her brother Tracey, and bringing a break to her mom who was worried about losing a second child (Terry's first brother had died suddenly only a few years ago). I felt like I could bring a bit of Watershed to her as I asked about her brother and told her I'd be praying for Tracey (who has since died, Verda said the other day). This felt like a meeting of the heart. She too was not on a vacation, but also a pilgrimage.

On Saturday morning, despite a bad sleep in the hotel, I made it to the airport and met my first traveling companions also bound for Mexico. All 7 of us were on the same flight. Linda's prayer from the little book of quotes from the gals had said, "Jesus be in my feet, in my hands, in my eyes, in all that I experience today," and it suitably framed the experiences ahead of me for the new day. I boarded the plane, and was greeted by a sniffer dog who must have smelled my newly acquired pesos. I thought perhaps he was another guardian, who asked the same question, "Are you sure you haven't broken the rules by coming?" The police told me, "It's all ok." Again, I was reminded to see the trip as the expansive prayer"God in all that I experience" rather than the fear based thought of "All that I've done wrong". 

I felt God's mercy when, despite a bad sleep, I felt very peaceful and felt this focus to read Burroughs and start my novel, for a good chunk of the 5 hour flight. (I had not had this reading focus for a while.) Towards the end, I looked out the window and saw with a start, the Mexican mountain chain below. Walking through the Mexican airport was much more calm and peaceful than I had imagined, and we soon found ourselves in a taxi headed towards the hotel. I was happy that, though we were a bit later than I expected, the Monarch  group had waited for us before heading out to the Anthropology Museum. I met Eric M., the host and guide of our trip. After stashing away my belongings in the hotel room, off we went, via another taxi. It was nice to be in a summer climate, though not unbearably hot. Comfortable t-shirt weather.

The tour of the museum, now led by Eric and Marcos our Mexican guide, was a suitable intro to how the days together would be - a lot of great teaching on Mexico's history and culture. It was more than I expected, and I (not a history/anthropology buff) found it interesting albeit somewhat overwhelming at times. I said later that it was like a really good documentary. I remembered some of the scenes from this very museum which Lyle and I had watched together from the Lonely Planet documentary. We learned about the Spanish conquest in the 1600's and about "Meso America", a term I had never heard before. I usually thought about Mexico as Spanish-speaking people, but of course there was a huge history before then, as there is of Canada before the Europeans, dating back to the Aztecs among many others. One of the scenes that stands out from the Museum was the huge Aztec calendar, which Eric explained we were all on, including the Creator at the center.

That night back at the Hotel, we gathered for our first meal together in the Hotel restaurant, and Eric gave us many intros and details about the trip. Introductions from each other would come in the morning on our long bus trip. At this point, I had this dull feeling in me of not wanting to be there. Too many new people (over 30) and I felt this sudden homesickness as the day felt overwhelming. Strangely, my phone card didn't work and the Internet room was locked for the day so I couldn't contact Lyle to let him know I got there safely. I chalked my homesickness up to just a full day, so I packed it in and it was a comfort to read over the next quote from the gals, which as each of them proved, was a great word to hear. Strangely, I can't find the little book at the moment, but I remember Bev's quote of a prayer for the new day, praying to bring God to all we meet. Again I was reminded of the focus being off my comforts or anything to do with "me", and that this trip was somehow a spiritual one, seeking the will of God. It was good to have the accompaniment of prayer, knowing that God was with me esp. in the prayers of you all, and that I could pray too. 

P.S. I just about forgot that before I went to bed, my new friends from Ontario, Barry and Helen (who I felt more of a connection with in the days to come), and I went for a walk down a main street close to the hotel. It was bustling with activity (Valentine's Day and Saturday night), with street vendors and many people selling their wares including mothers who had their cute, poor looking children come up to us and ask us if we wanted to buy things. There were also many couples, including many gay men and women openly affectionate, which I found curious considering what I thought was a more conservative culture. Barry and Helen were good to walk with, just some kind souls. Incidentally, they may be spending a night or two with us this summer as they travel to B.C.