Up close and personal

A few years ago, Ken and I spent a perfect afternoon with our good friends, Sue and Larry, on a pristine and empty beach in Mexico watching a pod of whales play in the ocean.

It was the middle of February — 85 in Mexico (Boca de Naranja to be exact) and 35 in Santa Fe. And it became a “marker” day, one we would always refer to when we talked about why Mexico was so special to us.

So fast forward to a sunny day last weekend — 85 in Chacala (one beach away from Boca de Naranja) and 40 in Santa Fe. We are on a small boat with friends from Santa Fe and Mexico heading out to see the whales up close and personal.

Our boatman Oscar said he  knew where they were and how to follow them without disturbing them. Within 30 minutes or so we caught site of them and tracked a few of them for about an hour. Pretty darn cool. We were probably as close as a half a football field.

I am really loving being this close to nature. It has its challenges (quadi/coati mundi), but the main thing I am learning is respect. We are, after all, living in their environments and must accept that there is adaptation, cooperation, and appreciation in order for all to live harmoniously.

Interesting, this sounds like how we need to work together in the Middle East, no? Well, gee, pick your place — having respect for your neighbors and living creatures is all it takes. If the relationship isn’t personal, perhaps it should be.

A nocturnal prayer

OK, this is funny…..I googled “quadimundi” to see if I could learn any interesting factoids about the critter (was it Machiavelli who advised warriors to know their adversaries?). And voila, there was my blog, #6 on the list. The first 5 were links to a couple of YouTube videos. 

Clearly, most of the world has not had interactions with quadimundi, because after my post the next links are those catchall pages that figure you misspelled the word and they can snag you in their site. Then, Google asks Quizas quiso decir “quadi mundi”? (Perhaps you wanted to say….), which goes to sites that have nothing to do with my quadimundis.

Anyway, I think I am getting a handle on this mentally and prayerfully, which is important, because I am not hearing them wander in at night. They still are, but I am not disturbed by them. The last time I heard them (yes, I think there is a posse/pod/gaggle/herd/gang but they take turns) was early Monday morning.

He (big assumption) was yanking on the refrigerator door over and over, thinking (I am trying to empathize here) if he pulled hard enough or often enough the door would fly open. Not gonna happen as it has a lock on it. Now I am thinking “surely he will figure this out and give up.” Nope. So mi esposo got up and shooed him away. And seriously, the refrigerator was 2 feet off the wall! Motivated little guy.

OK, this was a demand to stand firmer on what I had been thinking and praying about before because I knew it was a better frame of mind for me: the quadimundi are being cared for by the Provider, not by an easy-to-crack refrigerator. We are all living harmoniously in the divine kingdom, cared for, watched over, protected. Each in his/her place and satisfied. Abundance is divine and enough for everyone and everything. So this isnt just about taking care of me and my house, this is a more inclusionary prayer for the care and support of all the creatures. Good for all must be the law of life.

I’m thinking this is a more satisfying and sustainable nighttime prayer. I AM learning more about “my” quadimundi, and the most important thing is, he is not my adversary.

Que pasa?

What do you suppose it is that compels individuals to take the leap, to jump into a new experience and not stop mid-air?

I’m wondering this about myself, actually, because I have received a few emails from family and friends who are shaking their heads about this move to Mexico. The common theme is that at a “certain age” they want to be more comfortable, and learning how to navigate in a different country/culture/language sounds like more energy than they want to expend.

My dear sister asked me, “Cooodoes to your sense of adventure…..are you sure we grew up in the same house ???  Not sure if it’s our “birth order” (es mi hermana mejor) or your time spent at Berkeley or…?”

Sidenote: I attended Cal-Berkeley during the revolutionary 60’s and to this day my mom and two sisters are convinced that whenever I do things “out-of-band” it is very probably due to my college experience. Could be. It tickles me when they say that

All I know for sure is that there have been numerous experiences, big and little, in my life where I have thought, “Let’s try it!” because it was undiscovered (for me) and sounded like a fun challenge. The corollary in the back of my mind was always “How bad can it be?”

So, if anyone wonders,  there is a kind of mental “risk-reward” evaluation thing going on, however brief.

Through my spiritual study and development, I am also pretty confident that when my motivation is to do good and strive to be good, the Divine is hedging me about with safety and guiding me aright. 

This doesn’t mean  I have escaped trials and “what-the-hell-have-I-done-this time” moments. But even these experiences have taught me that there are necessary lessons to learn especially and only by pushing aside my mental comfort zone. 

There are definitely lessons to learn here in Mexico. I am energized to be closer to a different culture and learning to adapt. I am humbled by living more modestly and listening to learn how to bless my neighbors and community. And I am learning to slow down and make the most of each present moment — to find the spiritual meaning in real time.

These are not solitary, on the mountaintop ponderings — we settled in a tiny town called, yup, San Francisco (or San Pancho to the locals) that is mostly Mexican-owned so that we can be part of the local community.

This morning, I sat in a local outdoor cafe, drank a cafe latte (Starbucks and Peets fans, this is way better and costs 20 pesos, which is about $1.70) and prayed in support of the community. While Mexico is not leveraged to the hilt (it is a predominantly cash-based economy in the small towns), tourism is the 2nd most important revenue stream. This area is very dependent on tourism and local stores and restaurants are feeling the effects of diminished tourism.

So I figure that in addition to buying locally, I can make a contribution by praying about the abundance of the Divine’s provision for each of Her loved ones. As I walked along the beach today I thought that the waves never stop their endless pattern….the sun never stops its path….and God never stops giving all good.

Hmmm, it just occurred to me that my mental evaluation should change from “How bad can it be?” to “How good can it be?” A much better lesson.

Quadimundis of life

A quadimundi visits my kitchen almost every night. He/she is a nocturnal animal that is a kind of a cross between a raccoon and a cat. He visits because A) he’s hungry and this is the dry/slim pickins season for whatever he eats in the jungle, and B) my kitchen is open to the jungle.

This is definitely a life lived close to nature and I am learning what that actually means. In our casa’s public space (living room and kitchen) there are no walls but there is a high-ceilinged palapa. The benefit of this design is that the house is constantly receiving the breeze of fresh air that cools the interior and minimizes potential for mold. Hey, this is not a Mexico thing — ask anyone who lives in the South about mold!

Downside is that there are “things” that can traipse in occasionally. Such as the quadimundi.

The owners of our casa gave us instructions on preventing the quadimundi from feeling “at home”: at night put food and garbage away  in one of the closed bedrooms.

OK, simple enough, but I could still hear him at night, poking around, wishin’ and hopin’, and it was incredibly annoying. A couple of nights I got up and turned on the light to shoo him away, thinking he would get the hint. One night he skittered away and I heard this prolonged “eeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyy”, which I am thinking is quadimundi-speak for “damn you human!”

But this particular night was the turning point for me. As I got in bed with a dark cloud over my head, I realized I had a choice. Continue to be annoyed and get no sleep or find some peace about this nocturnal visitor. “Resignation” is not my style — I had to come to some kind of positive place, and the only way I know how to do that is to pray about it, which is to adjust my thinking to be spiritually-focused, not matter-focused.

I reasoned that this creature is an idea of God, just as I am….and that he is doing what he has to do, which is find food in order to live. God is his Life and, therefore, Mind is directing his life and providing for him. This does not mean that the provision is in my casa — the quadimundi’s provision must be made available in his natural habitat by the Provider. This is right and good. It is what God, the divine Provider does.

At the same time, my house cannot be “invaded” by anything inharmonious. It is a safe and secure home, established and protected by Love for me and mi esposo.

Therefore, both the quadimundi and us can live peacefully together without trampling on each other’s spaces or needs — he is provided for by the Divine and so are we. All harmonious.

When I was sharing this story with mi amiga, she said it made her realize that there are so many quadimundis in one’s life that we just resign ourselves to living with — small annoyances that you think, “why do I have to deal with this!” and we work around them, but don’t deal with them. Instead, better to say, “OK, how can I find peace with this and resolve it harmoniously?”

It is another mental shift that should result in a practical adjustment of some kind. For me and the quadimundi, I will keep you posted. The last couple of nights I havent heard him, but he has been checking out the kitchen…so progress for me is a peaceful night. 

I am happy with that!

A fun place to be frugal

A new friend in Mexico said this the other day: Mexico is a fun place to learn to be frugal. I totally get what she means.

While many Americans and Canadians move to Mexico ostensibly to lower their cost of living, there is more to it than dollars-to-pesos (or loonies-to-pesos). Although, as of this writing, the exchange rate is about 30% positive for dollars, which is a nice surprise, considering the US economy.

The thing is, living here is more simplified, which reduces the demand on spending money. We are surrounded by a culture (I am only speaking of the small towns in my area) that gets by with so much less, so having anything that is well beyond the normal means looks totally out of place. And guess what? The desire for “more” isn’t even there. So, while simplifying, there is no sense of “sacrifice”. 

And, seriously, it feels way better with less.

This feeling started for me in September when we sold our house in Santa Fe. We didnt know what we were going to do next (or where to do it), so we just put all our stuff in PODs (2-1/2 PODs to be exact) and sent it down the road to a warehouse in Albuquerque. And we rented a furnished casita in Santa Fe.

It’s pretty interesting to see what you take when you are living in temporary digs. For us, it was computers, some books, a few clothes (yeah, regardless of what the Border Guard thought!), gym clothes, some critical cooking utensils and the espresso machine.

And after 4 months, I didn’t miss a dang thing. 

At the end of December, all we brought to Mexico was what could fit in the car since we have rented a furnished place here for a year.

I imagine the situation will change when we have our own home (wherever!), but we have already learned we can live in a way smaller home, with a drastically reduced amount of stuff.

My friend Carol will be happy to hear about this evolving sensibility. And Carol, guess what! No use of the clothes dryer — all the washed clothes hang out to dry. You know, the clothes smell so fresh! Electricity is so freakin’ expensive here that you figure out quickly what is important to use it on.

Here’s another thing: conserving water. Growing up in California, I dreaded the periodic water shortages and subsequent “military” showers. (That would be a euphemism for not running the water while sudsing up.)

In our little community here, the water is not consistently available so many houses have cisterns as primary or back up resources. (Cost is not an issue — availability is.) So we figured out pretty fast where we could conserve. Helloooo military showers! Of course, it helps when you live in a warm climate (did I mention that the showers are open to the sky?).

Stripping away the accouterments  of an urban life is a process — and it’s fun to see what comes forward that is way more satisfying.

One thing that has emerged is focusing on talking with people…not rushing off to do an errand, make an appointment, get something done. Be present with friends, shop owners, service people. Listen, share, learn.

Hah! I get it — learn to be frugal only with resources, but not with the time to make new friends

Crossing the borders of thought

Getting prepared to move south of the border turned out to be a bigger shift than I thought it would be.

At first, there were lots of details to consume my time: change of addresses, getting Mexico car insurance, getting a permit for the car, figuring out what would fit in a large SUV– the rest goes in storage — what kind of tourist visa to get, opening up bank accounts, set up billing and payment instructions….the list seemed to be endless.

And the thing that consumed me most of all was, Which border crossing to use and What route to drive? Everyone I knew who had driven to Mexico in the past 5 years I buttonholed for their tips. No one had done EXACTLY the route/destination I needed. Since the journey would take likely 3 days, where to stop? How long in a typical day’s journey?

One thing everyone agrees on is that you should not drive at night and you should only use the toll roads. So how far could we get in a day…in the winter…going how fast?

I was getting pretty anxious, to be honest. And the regular news reports of drug gang violence in cities along our route was not helping instill confidence.

Finally, I decided to do what I should have done long before. I prayed for guidance and peace of mind. I started by figuring that the allness of God’s love and goodness doesnt stop at the US border (phew! seriously, this thought was a BIG slap in the face to me) and that not only is He caring for me and my husband wherever we are, He is caring for Mexican citizens too.

This simple shift in thought was pretty huge for me. It set up a whole new, expanded way of thinking and caring about my new community. It tangibly expressed a more global inclusivity about God in a practical way.

Some specific shifts: I resolved to not compare a “US way of doing things” to the Mexican way of doing things, whatever they might be. For sure there would be differences, but they are not inherently negative. As a result, I have seen more sophisticated technology applications and cellphone services and better banking services/products. Already.

I also decided to pray specifically to support the Federal Police who are on the frontlines of the gang wars. When you see the Federales there  are typically 6 of them in an open truck with big guns at the ready. Can be disconcerting. Then again, I remember visiting Paris the first time seeing the same thing…

More examples in the future, but already this has given me so much more peace and satisfaction.

Now, about the route: it occurred to me to ask ONE MORE PERSON, my good buddy Susan Cobb who lives down here too and has already been so incredibly supportive. Turns out her neighbors across her street drive down from Canada each year taking the route we were considering.

Right away Bruce the neighbor gave me EVERYTHING I was wanting to know: the specific crossing, the hotel to stay at the night before, the  layover town for the next night (and recommended hotel), how long it would take, where to get the tourist permits, the amount of tolls, everything.

Bruce even told me what might happen at the border if/when they wanted to see what was in your car. Since we had packed to the gills, this would not be fun to unpack if required. Sure enough, the border guard pulled us over and asked to open the back. The look on his face when he saw the stuff was, like, kind of ticked off. Then he asked, “Solo ropa? (Only clothes?)” Keeping it simple, my husband Ken said, “Si, mi esposa.” 

At that, the guard burst out laughing and said “Yo se! (I know that!!)” Waved at Ken to close up the back and get moving. He was still laughing as we pulled out of the parking place.

This Mexico adventure is very different in so many practical ways, not the least of which is learning a new language — but what is going to be the best adventure is breaking down any borders or limitation in my own thought.

Hasta vez proxima.