Well--i return from Mexico slightly darker, in slightly better shape, and with a few more skills, physical and emotional, in the old tool belt. How to describe what I learned? How about this, from a letter to a friend:
I dreamt heavily in Mexico. Often these dreams visited the same
theme--a presence of evil hunting me.
In one dream--my first there--it came subtly. I was a child raised in
an orchard, a garden, an eden, coming to manhood. my caretaker had
been a monster of a man in appearance, with all the gentleness that
monstrosity of appearance often brings. he knew the cycles of nature
and the ways of kindness and taught them to me. as i approached
adulthood, though, an old presence reemerged in my paradise--that of
my true father. he was overpoweringly evil--not in that all
encompassing demonic way, simply in the way that we humans so excel:
an ambiguous, unintentional evil of "flabby-eyed devils." And though
I despised him, I understood him. Despite this, I knew that I
differed in how I had been raised.
Nights later I was hunted by something ephemeral, that hid in the
guise of friends, attempting to lure me away from safety. Again this
malignance was mitigated by a benevolent presence that sought to
protect me. It kept me safe, but my me face this menace dressed as
friends.
And so it continued, sometimes subtly, sometimes with greater force to
haunt my dreams. And though it sought me, these were not nightmares.
Not those dark shades of dream that raise the pulse and the sweat,
that make you toss through the night. I was not afraid in these
dreams.
On my last night in Mexico I found myself dreaming of a group to which
I apparently belonged. We were exterminators--not of typical
"vermin," but of some unspecified kind. And walking alone, I passed
the entrance to an underground tunnel, and sensed a great evil
emanating from it. And knowing what I had to do I gather my group.
While preparing to face it, I realized my equipment, my pack full of
tools was in the cavern. And so I went down, the only one unequipped,
to search for my tools in the darkness. Strangely, though I lack
tools, I didn't lack courage. The tools seemed peripheral to the real
work. And as we wandered underground alone, the group disappeared and
I was alone. And wandering into the evil underground, I laughed as I
realized the dream-nature of my reality. I began my first lucid dream
in years.
I wandered underground, playing and enjoying the fluid nature of my
reality. And then I woke.
More than anything, those dreams describe the emotional evolution of my time in mexico. Interestingly, the evil reared its head again, this week, back in Vancouver. It came to me, but this time I saw a list of skills laid before me. Most I was not ready for, but one stood: walking. And so I contemplate how, when and where to walk. This next step of the journey is one of introspection, I think--of figuring out where I fit in nature, how to understand the four elements and how to go where the wind blows me. Most importantly, my dreams returned to me--this was the most significan dreaming I've had in a long time, and it was nice to feel these images in my head again.
I met a girl in Mexico too, Heather, who walked with me for a while. She shared my work and my dreams, and taught me things I needed to learn. And now, I walk alone again. I'm preparing to return to Denman, but not without some stops first. To Victoria next week, to Bamfield after that. Denman for a month or two, or maybe even three, and then, who knows? Ghana in the fall, and a whole new set of adventures.