Though we hadn’t slept in 24 hours, our energies the morning after the ceremony were good, and a decision had to be made before long which road to follow next…
We had a full day at the hobbit-house to relax in, so the issue wasn’t immediately pressing, but, nonetheless, we considered every option that seemed to be unexpectedly thrown our direction.
The first was from a random dude Mantas chatted with the day before. The guy was beginning construction of eco-friendly domes on a property not too far from us, looking for paid help to assist in the work. Definitely interesting…
We also learned that two of the assistants from the ceremony the previous night were holding another circle of friends, a “by donation” ritual to share tepezcohuite, another psychoactive brew derived from the root-bark of Mimosa hostilis. Again, interesting, but perhaps too much too soon…
The third possibility was parting ways, as Manta Ray had friends from Lithuania coming to visit for 2 weeks, and I still had sights on Puerto Morelos, Holbox, and eventually Cancun to board a flight home.
We shared our morning fruits, and some random treats Mantas procured at the end of the event, including heart-shaped bites of incredible organic chocolate, before going down to the cenote to recharge and refresh.
If you remember the weasel from classic Looney Tunes fame, wildly licking his lips at the thought of devouring pretty much anything, constantly sharing his “yeah, yeah, yeah yeah!!!” eagerness like a jonesing crack-head being offered a fix, that might come close to describing Mantas’ enthusiasm over the cave-waters — replace “yeah-yeah-yeah” with “cenote-cenote-cenote!”
After dipping into the crystal-clear water, we made our way back “home,” to climb several floors of the artsy structure beside hobbitville to reach a tower, and sit atop the trees sharing insight from our experience the night before, swaying gently in the hammocks and warm sun.
A thought kept surfacing to my mind… how do I possibly describe this place without my camera, without a picture? Not that an image could do any justice… but it was more than that. How could I share the unlikeliness of my current surroundings in any relatable way to routines of society? One day a job in a kitchen and commuting on a bicycle defines reality, the next, hanging out in a tower-top above the canopy of trees in a Mexican jungle community feels like the most natural thing in the world. It all seemed too fantastical.
And of course it was.
But such is the power of following one’s heart. By boldly diving into life without succumbing to fears of the unknown, the impractical, or the “impossible,” there are no limits to what may be discovered. The magic always permeates us. It’s not until we take our blinders off that we become full witness to the gifts ceaselessly offered to us by a Consciousness that knows no bounds.
Though we’d each had highly personal experiences, sharing them with one another brought even more clarity and insight into our limited egoic minds, and tore down more self-imposed walls hindering expansion into a greater Universe.
With exhaustion finally catching up to us, a brief nap was in order before more cenote swimming. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!!!”
As if by design, heh-heh, we ran into the ceremony assistants again, the ones offering the tepezcohuite ritual, and they gave us a ride into town to find a meal to satisfy the new rumblings in our bellies after the many days of minimal dieting we had become accustomed to. I ate lightly again, but they heartily enjoyed large meals while informing us we could set up my tent on their small strip of land if we wanted to stay another night, and attend their “friendship” circle.
Hm. Why not? DTG (Divine Tour Guide, last explanation, I promise) hasn’t led me astray thus far…
Returning to the compound, it was time for more cenote action of course, and we slowly organized our belongings to set up shop at the new camp, breaking out my machete to clear a decent footprint for my tent to stretch out upon, discovering rocks while clearing the ground Mantas was sure were part of Mayan carvings. My jury was out on that one.
Looking for one more experience at the height of this world, we unexpectedly ran into our evening group hanging out at the tower-top, and enjoyed some improv violin, guitar, and singing. As the sun set, we made our way chaotically back to the other property in the imposing dark.
Still tired from the night before, unsure what to expect around our new campfire, new faces and new explorers arrived to share whatever fresh fruits or breads they had in their possession. A freshly peeled Chico Sapote found its way into my mouth, recalling sweet memories of El Mirador.
As my energy levels waned, and my tolerance for mosquito bites grew thin, I reconsidered taking part in this new plant ceremony. At some point, the vibe shifted for me, and I decided to retire to my tent for a peaceful sleep in the woods. Before long, Mantas had decided the same. We were already in a good place, without the need for additional medicines.
The rest was much needed, and I woke early and refreshed to begin more familiar packing, something of a staple for homeless wanderers…
It was time to take a colectivo back to central Playa Del Carmen to part ways, after a dip in the cenote, of course. The Ayahuasca adventure was an amazing experience, and my cup of Universal gratitude overflowed yet one more time as we exited the compound.
Riding the bus back to “reality,” I suggested we share a celebratory breakfast feast to complete the journey, and Mantas eagerly agreed. It would be our private ceremonial closing before we found our new adventures, mine to Puerto Morelos, his to Tulum to meet friends.
Mantas was an incredible friend and travel companion. Not only did I appreciate his skill to shoot-the-shit with any random local capable of providing us information, but also his energy and tendency to make unabashed conversation with any stranger just to see what the fuck might happen from the dialogue. Love that guy!
Another thumbs-up to DTG was well warranted. A possibility to meet again with Manta Ray on the island of Holbox was still on the table.
Pueblo Morelos is next, and some relaxed writing time, including a small logo design for a client back home that I need to delve into.
Life is grand.
Every moment I’m outside now, another recurrent thought strikes me… “I’m in fucking Mexico! How cool is this?!” And each time that happens, I realize I can substitute the word Mexico for Canada, or any definition in the world, to always move beyond comfortable routine the see the world anew through juvenile eyes.
Let’s see where the game goes next…