The last post I wrote before going off on a long road trip and dropping all pretense at keeping up with anything was titled “Mexico Calling.” If you didn’t read it then, it’s easy to find now. And then, as I said, I went off on a long road trip not really understanding what I’d written or what might come of it. But keep the idea of the words, “Mexico Calling,” in your mind. As I didn’t.
On our road trip, we stopped in New Mexico, in Arizona, and in Southern California, or SOCAL as it’s called by local news reporters. We were around a lot of Hispanics. And had a wonderful time, by the way – really “vacating” heads and have-tos except Mexico kept reverberating in my head. On the journey, and in some state or another, my friend Kate, who lives in Montana, called me on the cell phone. Kate and I met some twenty-five years ago in Mexico. She on sabbatical and me being an ex-pat living in Mexico. She was coming to Kansas and wondered if I’d be home and if we could see each other. Of course!! I would be home by the time she got here. Kate was a big part of my life in Mexico as Mexico was a big part of my life from 1985 to ’88. And then, after arriving home and before Kate arrived, while sitting in the office daydreaming as Cliff sorted through a massive pile of mail, I suddenly saw the format for “the Mexico book” as it’s come to be called over the years (I’d written an early non-fiction account of my life there and then a novel, neither of which worked). And then Kate arrived and we spent three days retelling stories and adventures, mishaps and happiness. And then, as if all that were not enough, I read in the news that Popocatépetl, the volcano just outside Mexico City and which I could see any day the air was relatively clear, sent up a plume of ash and smoke for the first time in many years. I can’t remember how many years and I can’t find the reference from just a few days ago because the days have been really really full.
Suffice to say, I’m back at work on the Mexico book this week.
I went to Mexico to make a movie, found my hair-dresser was a curendera, or healer, who initiated me one night as blood-red streaks chased ravens across the sky, and after returning to New York City, where I lived at the time, I kept going back – “called” as it were. And then, on one trip, I didn’t return. I just stayed, gave up my acting career in NY, and lived in Mexico.
Mexico was where I learned a deeper resonance to Spirit than I’d ever had before and where the path to becoming a healer began.
It’s hard to know a signpost when we see it. Usually the message “is written on the back in an ink destined to remain invisible for some ten or twenty years” as I wrote in Standing at the Crossroads. And now I’ve been called again. Only this time, while the original call was pretty invisible to me at the time, it only took some three weeks to get the message: Get back to the Mexico book and finish it.
We all need to pay attention these days to the signs we’re getting, the calls that point to a crucial mind/heart connection. Many of us have a dawning realization of how our lives must be different. Where are your whispers from Spirit pointing? If nothing else, make a list – the list is the mind connection. Draw a line down the page and zigzag across. Where’s the journey leading? And if you still can’t see, be patient. The way will be made clear. Someone else wrote that line a long time ago.
Years ago there was a film titled, “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.” And while the film may not have much connection to what I’ve written today, we are in a “funny” time – and anything can happen. Our lives are moving faster as well as the messages. Our job is to pay attention.