Now

Every day here is magic. Some new friend, new sight - or insight. Mexico is a country of now. El Ahora. What is happening right this second? Nothing else matters. It is not a place of planning.

Now, I am thinking about the boy who gave me a kiss the other night.

Now, I want a glass of freshly squeezed mango juice with lime.

Now, the temperature is perfect, with a blue sky touched with breeze.

Stormy birthday to me

I celebrated a birthday this past week. I tried for some magic. But I got rained on, instead.

Nothing felt right that day. I felt weepy and lonely and decided to get dressed up (mascara, even!) and go to a special restaurant. I followed someone's hand-drawn map and - ¡Es no hay! It wasn't there. It wasn't anywhere.

When I started walking the 20 hot and dusty blocks back to my hotel, the skies opened up. I got back to the restaurant next to my hotel - the best food I've found in the city so far - and had my dinner back where I'd started.

Three good things happened on my birthday: I found an awesome yoga class. I had an awesome piece of Mexican corn cake. I looked awesome in my birthday outfit, even a bit rained on.

Bienveniedos

I made it. Not sure what day it is, what time it is, or who I am anymore. Somehow I lost all these things in flight, like wayward luggage.

But I do know I am here. Specifically in an internet cafe writing to you and staying at the hotel whose courtyard you see up top.

It's impossible not to be in a place that is so totally, vibrantly alive at all hours of the day. When my body and spirit catch up with each other ... you'll hear from me again!

A last thought

I've let go of detailed intentions for my trip. Maybe it will be one week - and that would be great. Maybe it will be three months - that would be great too. No more trying to structure magic.

My desires are:

To be warm.
To laugh.
To surrender & receive.

Thank you, Maine

For the brilliant stars. For the hush of snow. For time and space to see myself. For time with my beloved family. For the sound of waves crashing during a Nor'easter. For the friends I have made and the love they've given me. Six months has somehow become the beat of a wing.

Maine, you've prepared me for whatever comes next.

Thank you.

And now, off to Mexico.

Packing up

Yesterday I started organizing my things for the trip. As I began to peek into drawers, unearthing useless objects I'd hidden away six months ago, I heard the roar of heavy machinery across the street. A crew was demolishing a small inn that had stood empty all winter. Getting rid of something old to make room for something new: a lovely omen. I got it, I got it!

Jodi, Marlee Matlin's wonderful character on The L Word, said something just gorgeous to Bette during a seduction scene:

"The more I'm afraid of something, the more I know I have to do it. I figured that out when I was a kid. I can lead a protected life, hiding away from the scary world. Or, I can take on the things that scare me the most. The more it might hurt, the more I might die doing it, the more worth doing it must be."

And that resonated as much as the snarling metaphysical demolition taking place within me now. Oh, fuck.

Blue sky, red dress

What a glorious day. It was the first time my toes had seen sun in six months. My toes and I enjoyed dark chocolate ice cream sitting on a park bench, watching people stroll through the center of town. Watching bikers cruise by in leather.

I heard someone exclaim "oh my gay GOD!" in a very loud, very gay voice. (Was it the leather that prompted that?)

Later, I took myself out to dinner in The Red Dress. I sat in a room with a tree completely adorned in white Christmas lights. A chef I will call the Dessert Fiend tried valiantly to get me to eat cheesecake peach tart chocolate mousse cheese plate ANYTHING! But I was content with the wild mushroom soup and the perfect scallops and bok choy.

Life is coming back to Maine.

Blank canvas

Back when I went into my office job each day, I just knew. I knew, for the most part, what awaited me. The bad included unreasonable executives, sitting in a cubicle, body aches, the commute, panic. The good included yoga, seeing a friend, or wine and food at an expensive bistro. Or maybe just lots of wine at said bistro. The ache of frustrated dreams plagued me, as did loneliness, but a comfortable predictability reigned.

What about once I venture to Mexico? A great unknown. I can feel it but I don't know it. A sage might ask, well, Kelly, what do you want from your time in Mexico?

That I do know. Adventure. A big book deal, and soon. And love. The love of my life.

I feel a pushy urge for the trip to be monumental, in exchange for all the emotional currency I've laid down. I want certainty! I changed my entire life for this book. Threw off the shackles of comfort for not knowing.

Knowing everything would take away the magic of surprise, whispers the sage.