Antigua, the romantic rhythm cobblestone rumbler

We be in colonial volcanic city,
Quantum cryptography physicist Hilel,
We brothers are muy similare,
Searching for the same thang,
Our purpose,
Looking inside for our personal Legend,
Lover language learners,
Espanol es sexy y es muy necessary,
For a connection in the land of Mayan highland gift givers,
Why must we search endlessly,
May be it is not part of our path for now to be sharing it with another,
How we want it badly,
Desire dream destiny manifest,
Dave Matthews sings my delightful dilemma,
"Old and wise, you can't see what I can.
So I blindly, throw my faith, to the face,
of the next good thang that comes my way."
How he knows the truth of soo many our hearts,
Watch them burn and yearn to see the light,
To be shown the mirrored moon perfection,
That we are all deserving,
To be honored, seen, worshipped, loved, found
Come find me,
I know you seek the same thang as I,
Which town are you residing in,
A fellow traveller or perhaps back in the the Cruz,
Possibly here in Antigua in a lake side village,
Do we dream the same dreams,
Have we met in some train station,
Ticket in hand warrior wandering in the clouds,
Destined for opposite destination location expectations,
Patience wanes with the moon smiles,
But with a wax in motion we grow,
In the estrella indigo evening I search endlessly for you,
In the crowds of sea filled fish,
Waiting for a bite,
How patient and alluring is the bait I hope to hook you with,
Sitting by the lullaby wise river, waiting & floating downstream,
Singing sweet songs, of melodies pure and true,
Wishing this reaches a heart that is true'ue'ue,
Help heal this heart cold,
Forgive my fever,
For it brings on visions of such delicious dancing dervishes,
My truth is distorted in the smoke filled prayer ballrooms,
Now I will whirl wishes eternally until the music ends,
Or my body collapses from exhaustion,
With fine feathered feelers that use the winds of distant hum whistle beats,
To grant thermal current ochestrated operas,
Cause only the finest symphonies are worthy of our flapping flights of freshness,
For we ride funk waves that shake the floors of cloud fields,
Requiring tribute in sunshine smiles & thunderous lightning storm winks
That pass with the blink of father time's eyes,
See he has a slightly nervous tick,
So we must keep on,
Drinking a cup of medicine from volcanic spring witch doctor pharmicies,
A toast to you and all the songs played until we be.

Flores, an Island of Maya, then Spanish, now Tursita

From the tranquil shores of Zipolite, Oaxaca with a week nearly under our belt of nude beach relaxation, overly tan bodies, warm water swims, and replacing my glass window plugs unwillingly donated to mama ocean for sea shells. Myself and rag tag group of six, two brujas from Madrid, Spain (Monica & Libertad), a hustler from Buenos Aires, Argentina (Pablo) and my two comrades from the compound in Santa Cruz (Shauna and Nick). We came together through snorkel adventures with sea sick may bes, while in the evening we watched the beautiful symbiotic dance of three races and formed stronger bonds. Running out of money and ready to continue on our journey we came to face bus strikes that seemingly sticking us in the small town of Pachutla for the night, just far enough away from the ocean with nothing desired to keep us there.

Suddenly though three spaces opened up for us so we departed for a may be transfer in Huajuapan or was it Huajixctl (spelling is terrible). There were spaces for us to continue on, but we waited till 4:30 in the morning with delirium overtaking us and half of us sleeping on the floor with a sweet lady and young man who swept and mopped it all, old school style. We arrived shortly after the sun had risen to the mile high, Zapatista presence of a mountain valley wonderland known as San Cristobal de las Casas, Chiapas. The first city that I felt I could hang in for quite a while, although our time was short we were happy to stay in the Hostel Posada Mexico lined with cobblestone roads. Going atop city grand height Cathedrals, visiting coffee shop museums that had the best coffee for 100`s of kilometers, listening to amazing music from the Veracruz Folk tradition, and dancing the night away to Cumbia/Bob Marley Cover Bands. Meeting characters from around the world, such as this funny couple from Canada (Celeste and Cody«?») and a troubled man from Zurich (Marco) who was crushing on our friend Libertad. A wonderful young lady who worked at the hostel, Yeni from Costa Rica whom Shauna and I will hopefully meet up with when we reach the CAN land of coffee.

We loved the town all of us and I picked up a few new books, 1491, a book on what was going on in the Americas when Columbus came, recommended highly from Alan Richards, a wonderful human being, Buddhist practitioner, Professor at UCSC, and one of the most highly intelligent people I have ever met. The one that I just finished that I am in love with is Ender`s Game, by Orson Scott Card, WOW. Brilliantly written with excellent characters especially the Wiggins children, and at the end I really felt for the Buggers and am excited to get a copy of Speakers of the Dead, the next in the series. As excited as I was to get new books the time constraints of our group required us to journey forward especially if we wanted to keep our posse together for as long as possible. So we said good bye to the beautiful colonial town, with an optimistic vision we headed up North and East for the jungles of Palenque so that we may see the awe inspiring temples and take a little howler monkey hiatus in El Panchon, a few minutes outside of the town.

We stayed in an alright place called Rawshitki`s, with a message on the wall saying, "Watch out for scorpions, falling from the ceiling and shake your sheets for spiders" signed Anonymous. It was fine minus the howler monkeys that sounded like Monstros (Monsters). We were offered by a Golem some Hongos, but we declined and continued on even though it was hilarious because right that moment Shauna had told us that there are people waiting in the trees along the way to the ruins for a tourist to come on by. The ruins were amazing, beautiful, grand, filled with silent mysteries that had been silenced for centuries. Groomed so well that it was hard to imagine what it looked like when the jungle had taken back her land at least until we got to Tikal that is. This was our last day with Libertad and Monica, because they had to leave to go to Mexico City that night for their return flight was only two days away and with bittersweet goodbyes and a sick Moni we shrunk our group down to four. Ready to move on though we booked our trip from Palenque, Chiapas to Flores, Guatemala that would take us on an adventure from 6AM until 4PM.

We had spent too much time, money, beer drinking at Don Muchos, a restaurant about 60 meters away and after going into town one last time to mail birthday packages and postcards for the first time on this journey of 3 weeks already we finished our loose ends of Mexico. Awaking at 5 in the morning to begin our trip, with a sick Nick who we feared would not have a good trip we made the journey across the jungle. After a quick exit from Immigration we hopped aboard a skinny long like a bird beak boat and went up river, the dividing line between the two countries as we averted 100`s of whirlpools (no joke) we finally got on the shores of Guatemala. I had a realization as I crossed the imaginary boundary of these two seemingly same countries that I can actually do this, make it through all of Central America with the dream of making it through South America as well. At the same time remembering love and the bittersweet lingerings in our memory banks and missing the good while putting aside the bad or the hurt. Sending sweet thoughts to a wonderful mermaid whom has reopened his heart and taught the power of poetic playfulness and the puzzle perfection of two people whom an affinity had ordained as a magic marvel to come to fruition if only for a few delicious days and everlasting gobstobber wishing nights.

Suddenly like that I was in Guatemala the first place I had planned on visiting on this journey with a three week detour of delight now under my belt with most of the southern portion of the grand expansiveness of Mexico done. Immigration was quick with a snack shop, cow pasture and clothesline laundry being washed all on the property. As we entered deeper into Guatemala I finished Ender`s Game and was nearly brought to tears reading about the fate of Ender and the Buggers, a must read if you are at all into science fiction novels. So I continued reading my recommendation travel adventure/memoir, Secrets of the Talking Jaguar, by Martin Prechtl whom a dear sister friend of mind Johanna Hoffman (sp) thought I should go for. Ever since I started reading that book, which I do whenever I have gotten to the next destination that seemed appropriate a perfect fit was formed for me cause I have essentially done the same journey as my Shaman friend minus what has happened to me since Guatemala. Along the 4 & 1/2 hour journey to Flores from the river bank we saw a big crowd on the road and as we slowed to pass, with the policià`s waving through a dead man protected by a make shift hut. Life so precious taken again in the great mystery as I read the chapter where Martin enters the sweet honey nectar of nothing (oneness) as he was in death`s grasp and the perfection of the moment had me pulled in and I was trying hard to follow the spiritual flow of his words as one always tries to share the world beyond words and time known as muerte.

Eventually we got to Isla de Flores a beautiful Mayan town destroyed when the Spanish finally took it over after a hundred plus years of knowing it existed and now it is essentially a tourist island. We are supposed to be in a place at least a third as costly as our norther neighbor but it seems to be just as expensive as Mexico. We are all leaving tomorrow though and splitting up to go our separate ways, Shauna and Nick to Belize for a week, Pablo back to the Yucatan for more ruin exploration, with myself off to explore Guatemala and all it`s treasures. I am not feeling too hot right now, but better then this afternoon when we were at the jungle rich diversity of Tikal, an ancient abandoned archaeological temple infested wonderland that nerdingly enough was where Yavin IV from Star Wars: A New Hope was filmed. It was amazing to sit atop Temple IV the highest temple and drink Yerba Mate with my three friends, while dreaming of the world of Star Wars. All the while listening to howler monkeys in the distance, watching yellow beaked toucans flying from tree top to tree top and getting misted with the morning heavy moisture of the jungle. Met an awesome young couple from Eugene, Oregon who connected with my story of Star Wars as they too saw the planet in it`s imagined actualized appearance. Shauna and I headed back early cause I was feeling ill, a fever, aches, and now a stomach ache. I have been writing this travel blog for a few hours now and must say good bye until the next time cause, my stomach is growling and I think it just wants some food.

Un besos, Amore, and a prayer for protection and for your paths...

Skywalkers on Mayan Alien Planets
From atop these altars to the skywalkers we watch and wonder,
Honoring the past long abandoned,
For they were foolish in their thirst to expand and grow,
Paying homage to the heavens,
Kissing the sky,
A blurred line when we rest above the jungle top cradle,
Toucans playing as they sing their morning songs,
Highlighting the sun that dreams behind foggy fast moving clouds,
Howler monkeys swing from tree to tree,
Making deep monstrous rumbles seven times their size,
Meanwhile the Jungle, Mother who gives all life,
Knows their secrets as the day moves spiraling forward,
Our creature friends begin to take a rest,
Nap time calls so with mats of leaves, trees, and deceased ants,
They clock out from the constant rhythm of working to survive,
Though they may not seem sentient to we bipedal aliens,
They have a deep connection,
Simple but layered far beyond what we see,
In love with their kingdom for what other truth is there,
No thinking or reflecting on what they are,
Why they are here,
Or does it cross their minds,
Do they unable to unfold before us have an unconscious knowing,
It lies past the reaches of these human eyes,
Disturbed and disrupted for a time, a blink in the continuum,
The flow of the river continues onward,
Always making its way eventually back to the sea.

Lightening Strikes, A Flash Flood of Memories

A Mad Man with Mixed Marbles of Marvel

The locals here say he´s crazy,
Cause he mumbles slices of stories,
Weaving in mythical creatures, ancient locales long gone,

Future may be´s, the local news, and unclear utterances,
Well they´re really just whispers,
Of a woman in another place from another time,
The one who fractaled his being to the point,

Where all he can see is infinity,
Cause her divinity shocked his sytem beyond comprehension,
Overloaded it with playful delicious healing vida y sol y luna,
In the aftermath of the great storm, having made all things new,
Uprooted tired trees overly ready to be recycled,
Tossed away old houses no longer taken residence in,

For only ghosts live there still,
Silence abounds except for the siren song of sister sea,
The world can finally rest, with a little shut eye well deserved,
Say what of our mad man,
What will become of his heroic heart,
Will they humpty dumpty put it together again,
Or is he lost to us all, still wandering the beaches aimless,
Looking for the sea shells that she sells down by the sea shore,
Unable to discern the difference between her mighty depths or shores,
He wanders in reaching the drop off, beyond is the dark abyss,
When suddenly he gets flashes of her figure + face,

Like a strike of luminous lightening,
Reminding the world that we are all electric fire marvel,

& can move @ superhero speeds of light,
This shocks and startles him cause he swears for a moment,

she was right beside him here,
But as thunder takes time off he looks to the sky,

Remembers he is away,
Off on an exploration of great discovery, charting new territories,
Uncovering the significance of long lost loves, past life knowings,
& story telling significant substance,

In which to expand the great library of our lives,
Still though,

Who was this one that jostled all preconceptions out of being,
He remembers wings, white with gold that shined & glided gracefully,
Remembers eyes that sparkle like diamands,

They would peer into your well to it´s bottom,
Then fill it overflowing with the sweetest satiating nectar,
Flooding you with a cool sense of comfort, of safety, of open,
Remembers a smile able to melt any ice age freeze,

For she´s filled with a fiery warmth,
One of ancient elder full moon story telling midnight meetings,
Remembers a union of temporal temptuous temples,

With more meaning & intergalactic design that even the gods and goddesses,

Of all the worlds could not have created a better fit,
Remembers a mouth portal housing two formidable guards,

With centuries of training for the meeting of another up to par,

It was never dreamed to find a match of equal perfection,
Remembers a heart that beats rhythms of old sing song,
Keeping this groove thang on it´s track,

Chugging choo choo all down the line,
Her musics a guide for the members of the earthen tribes to follow,
He remembers her magic, barely contained in the holiest of vessels,
A shamanic warrior, an elemental queen, a deity manifested goddess,
He remembers... ¡¡¡FLASH!!!
So if you see him on the sand, the one who seems to have lost his way,
Know that he´s searching for pieces of she,

They come to him in sudden flashes by the sea.

The day before we went snorkeling and rode the mighty tumultous sea, she was slightly worked up on account of our wanting to sea turtles, whales, and dolphins, so she was having performance anxiety and instead just gave a bumpy rollercoaster ride. Diving off of rocks, I and the guide were the only divers, all others jumped in feet first, for I thought I could fly if only for a moment, and instead flew under the blue salty kisses, meanwhile saying good bye to mi expansivos (my glass plug friends), for she swallowed them up and claimed them back to their origins. Now rocking yellow plugs made from mi madres pluma, plastico es muy diverse. It´s fun watching people trip out on you putting big things in your ears, even though most mujeres have earrings, it will be many years till they could with or with out wanting to put anything that grande in them, gravity and time have a funny sense of humor.

I made some new friends from Argentina and Spain, mi amigo Pablo tiene un estomago de enfermo (perdon para mi grammar) GSE (grapefruit seed extract) is such a blessing por que for the first time in three days he is feeling better. How blessed we be being west coast cali kids. One more day of mellowness here, tomorrow we go to Mazunte to see the sea turtle farm and see a more mellow non touristy beach town a 10 minute drive away and manana en la noche we go San Cristobal de las Casas in Estados de Chiapas. High mountain cold forested jungle adventure calls and I welcome a fresh breath of mile high air or at least not sea level although it has been reinvigorating and a nice vacation of mellow sea time lullabies.

How the time seems so much longer than two weeks, but still it has only been un media de mesa. We journey through this place called madre tierra, soaking up the sun, the sea, the sand, the wind, the songs of the shore dancing with the moon. How blessed we be whether its working, studying, playing, dancing, struggling, fighting, creating, or most importantly loving. Saying this from a priveledged place of travel and journeying on a vision quest to find my purpose.

In, The Alchemist, it is written when you say yes to your personal legend that the whole universe conspires to help you bring it into the now. I am not sure what that is because for soo long it has been to solely love, be love, and give love. This feeling I have though is that there is ways in which to concentrate it into a skill, a role, or an ability to help others. Teaching in a school has been a dream, but now unclear to me if that truly is what I should do for will I be truly utilized to my fullest potential or is there more for me. Creation has played a vital role in my progress and medicine for my soul as well as a conduit and a vessel for the universe to work through me. These things will become clear in their due time, but still I wonder what oh what is my purpose. With endless gratitude, love, hope, faith, and holding you all in mi corazon.

see, she sparkles spectacular

Written before forgetfulness
Strolling in the moon drenched sky,
drunk with a blinking beacon beckoning forth,
A vague rememberance stirs,
those quiet caresses,
Holding a may be in between our breaths,
Surrendering to the wonder of a yes,
Unleashing a long lost longing,
It was bottled with a note of wouldn´t it be soo amazing if...
Then thrown into mama ocean, only to circumnavigate the seven great seas,
Back again finally washing ashore to be found by the one it was written for,
The essence of a time so tender still remaining,
Could it be enough to awaken the dream of a dormant desire,
Stir up your blood, boiling to the point of action,
That your seemingly subconsciously triggered,
Now finding yourself walking down a cobblestone road,
It comes flooding on back and you remember it all,
The Kiss, perfect between a pair of puzzle piece lips,
With chemical confirmations, pointing all signs to, Ohh my God, Yeah!
Electricity sparkles between our paper skin as we help one another recharge,
With enough power to keep our town lit all the night through,
As fingers rediscover the canyons, hills, and fields of our marked canvas landscapes,
We make our way back home again,
Trusting in our own ways of knowing that we all too often forget,
But Intuitions been waiting for us to let go of this foolish desperation to know,
Umhmm, there you are, I think I remember us meeting a long time ago............

In a little town by the sea...

Ohh what a journey we meander, as I go farther and farther from my town by the sea a modest book/vegetable seller who had stared up at that tower for soo long. Daydreaming of the wandering mountain gypsy who could fly as gracefully as a red tailed hawk on a wind charged clear sky. From those first skips you made through the lonely floors of Logos an affinity was affirmed that she was one that a magical lasso has been thrown over and miraculously was thrown on moi aussi. But this seemed not to be fore we are of seeminly different worlds as well as time had decided for we to be with different lovers. There was a tale of a book in a mythical place across the other end of the world, which would grant the reader wings and the gift of flight. Although their time together was bittersweetly short he then was so determined to find those wings he left his beloved and the sleepy town by the sea filled with it´s magic and mundane for his great adventure. Holding her in his heart and leaving with only a few books, some clothes, and a few other essential items (minus a headlamp and some titanium utensils) he embarked on his journey and left knowing he would return when the time came except he would have wings to fly with a winged angel from the familiar of his growth. This journey would be filled with characters galore, teaching him all about the different ways we love and the power of love, and the necessity to love, told in the most delightful epic poetic prose, a journey to say the least.
Here our pico sits, on the shores of the sea. A new yet familiar feeling connecting him to the town, which he left. Wishing he could see her fly and skip and smile, but instead holds them to his whisper memory dreams and continues forth. All the while learning to be in love with himself more & more, ohh to live in the moment, working to be more comfortable with the new possibilities of the stranger and all that it entails. A time will come when they may fly together and soar under the pale mirror moon, may be fly through the waterfalls of south america for a quick clean, a dive down into the caves for some ancient pillar formation adorations, rest a top the peaks of macchu picchu and marvel at the mile how creation of ancient elder star worshippings. When the wind blows through the palm trees I hear a distant song of a creative sort that´s all about the spontaneous magic of music and it stirs a depth in my heart that pangs with longing, but continues to beat and knows that we makers of music are always a note away from the family we have called creation.
(Inspired from, The Book of Flying, by Keith Miller) A Must read, por serio!!!
This adventure has been a great one, challenging at times, filled with new friends, sparkles of beauty, learning, longing, loneliness, but gratitude for the opportunity and the priveledge of being able to decide to go and commit to this mission of self discovery, cultural understanding, and love (in all it´s different incarnations and meanings)! I am with Shauna and Waribu, on the beautiful tropical beaches of Zipolite, one of the most southern parts of the country of Mexico, swimming in warm beautiful ocean, laying by the beach side, eating wonderful food, sleeping with an amazing overlook of mama ocean, fighting the mosquitoes that love my asian-welsh blood (pero I think it is the asian cause my dad hardly ever gets bug bites). I just finished reading this book, Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchet, definetely recommend if you are in the mood for a good laugh about the apocalypse and written by two amazing fantasy science fiction writers. Tomorrow we go Snorkeling and off to the next great adventure, but now I must go get my laundry, completed for the first time since before the New Year. A little sun burnt, extremely ecstatic, and ready to go sing a song to mama ocean to a far off sister he has much mucho amor para en a little town by the sea, where there are people who fly in the setting sun...

Huajuapan, Bart, and Cactus

After nearly giving up on the idea of meeting up with my good friend bart, a Happy Boy Farms co-worker and old Trailer Park neighbor. I heard from him right after Shauna and Nick, my ole compound housemates took off for Cuernavaca in search of Capoiera compadres. Checking my e-mail one last time before leaving the Hostel de Catedral at the Zocalo in cuidad de Mexico, a message from Bart arrived that he just got back from Chiapas. He attended the first ever La Digna Rabia, Dignified Rage, a world meeting of the Zapatistas with other international organizations to check in about the work being done and what their is still to do.
So I attempted to take a bus to downtown Puebla, pero since my spanish is mas o menos i decided to wait to hear from bart again so i waited at the station. Taking out my trusty moss agate pendulum from Austin, Texas. I wrote down the words Puebla and Acatlan de Osorio in big black ink to see what the guides recommended. They were saying no to Puebla and yes to Acatlan, which is one city over form Huajuapan where Bart and Cactus were. Even though it said yes, not hearing from him personally made my fear win the battle, especially because the ORO bus line attendant told me that because I waited I would have to race ahead by taxi to get to the next pick up station some 15minutes away.
Needless to say I ended up staying the night in Puebla at the Hostel Santo Domingo, a few blocks away from the Zocalo. Just to give you all a heads up if wanting to bring a combination lock for Hostel lockers, definetely pick one up in the states because it has been nearly impossible to find one here in Mexico. The closest I got was a Sponge BoB Square Pants kids combo lock that looked more like a practical joke than a real secure device. I used my Happy Boy, wake up at the butt crack of dawn, mental powers to wake up as to catch the 6AM bus from Puebla to Huajuapan, pero I decided to sleep more and have some amazing dreams, jaguars, chases, and cobble stone paths.
After watching two Will Smith movies, Soy Legendaria y Soy Robot, two very similar themes with crazy robots and crazy mutated humans climbing up buildings to kill Will Smith. I arrived at Huajuapan, a little big town a half hour away from Ibarra, donde mis amigo/as de Happy Boy are from. Bart and I should make our way today and fiesta tonight, pero I am leaving manana to go to Oaxaca City, Oaxaca and explore Monte Alban and the other beauties of this grand adventure. Finally feeling more at ease and stoked to be with mi hermano, Bartolo, now the adventure continues...