IN THIS ISSUE: "SO LET THE BIG CAT JUMP!"
WISDOM: Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.
Helen Keller
COACH'S CHALLENGE: If you have something you have always wanted to do; do it.
SOUL TRAVEL: WITCHES AND A SWEAT LODGE
SO LET THE BIG CAT JUMP
Shortly after 9/11 I was listening to a West Virginia reporter being interviewed on talk radio. He spoke of the coal miners of West Virginia and how the miners live with potential tragedy as a daily companion. As a result, people who live there are amazingly resilient and rely philosophically on a greater belief in fate than most. As his grandmother used to say, "If you were born to hang, you'll never drown; so let the big cat jump!"
That saying stuck with me. It was just crazy enough to challenge any fears and keep my common sense reasonably defiant. I live somewhere between tempting fate and trusting the universe. My daughter tells me someone must be watching over me. She recounts some of my more dramatic misses. I arrived in Nairobi one week after the U.S. embassy was bombed; trekked the mountain gorillas in Uganda two months before Rwandan rebels slaughtered tourists in the same camp; landed in New Delhi the day the plane from Katmandu to New Delhi was hi-jacked - the same plane I was supposed to be on ten days later.
The fact is we all constantly have near misses. Sometimes mere seconds save us from disaster. Sometimes we know it; sometimes we don't. Fear of events in the outside world that might put us in the wrong place at the wrong time can be paralyzing.
There can also be paralyzing fear from our inside world. The most basic fear common to almost everyone is, "Am I good enough?" This fear wants to protect us from disappointment, not being accepted, loved, approved or understood. It is a trap. If we don't test it, we are not living. We are denying our essential nature.
Listen to Jack Nicholson: "I'm 65 years old, and I'm still thinking, 'Am I good enough?" Or Meryl Streep: "Oh, I always think I'm going to give up. You get cold feet. You think, 'Why would anyone want to see me again in a movie? And I don't know how to act anyway, so why am I doing this?' It is something I confront at the beginning of everything. I have to start out with nothing each time." Pretty amazing (and comforting), don't you think? -- these very talented people who think they are not good enough! Thank heaven, they both "let the big cat jump". Sounds like a New Year's resolution to me!
SOUL TRAVEL: WITCHES AND A SWEAT LODGE
Catemaco, Mexico, town of 35000 is the witchcraft capital of Mexico and is located on the side of a beautiful lake. Toward the end of December, 1998, my friend, Maudie, and I flew TO Veracruz and hired a taxi for the three hour ride to Catemaco. Catemaco was a side trip en route to Jalapa to meet Far Flung Adventures for a white water raft trip on a combination of three Mexican rivers.
Catemaco is clean, friendly, colorful and lively with few American tourists. It didn't take long for me to be known as "The Red Head" about town. Mariachi bands with marimbas frequented street corners and the sound was enchanting. Many young people, dressed in animal costumes, paraded around the streets as part of the New Year festivities.
Intrigued by the town's reputation for witchcraft, I started making inquiries. A very important warlock owned a motel down the street but, unfortunately, he was out of town. They suggested I ask the waiter at our hotel for a recommendation. That inquiry led me to the office of the notary down the street who made a telephone call. Within 15 minutes, I was meeting my first witch (that I know of). Maudie had bowed out of this adventure so I was on my own. The witch and I entered a room conveniently located behind the notary office appropriately decorated with candles and religious symbols. After presenting me with a small, hand sewn red satin heart stuffed with Kleenex (I later discovered), she made several incantations and passed her hands over my body. This was all in Spanish so I missed a lot of what was said. Next she sprayed me with water and poured some green stuff over my head which looked like liquid Palmolive.
Now it was time for the Tarot cards. The language barrier, however, got too much for us both and she decided we had to go to her house where her daughter was who spoke English. Off we go in a taxi. Her home was very comfortable. (This witch business apparently is very lucrative.) Her daughter proceeded to read the cards, tell me I had good signs except for some evil spirit lurking on my left shoulder. I was to jump a certain number of times over some ashes sprinkled on the floor, first backwards and then forwards, in order to ward off the evil. She instructed me to continue this exercise for several weeks just to make sure. Since she was going to be traveling to the States, she wondered if I would like her to come see me just to reinforce the spell. I politely declined. By this time, the novelty had worn off and I was ready to leave. My wet, gel filled hair was demanding attention.
The next night was New Year's Eve. Outside of Catemaco is Temazcal, a traditional Mesoamerican sauna that "purifies body and soul". Maudie and I thought that would be a perfect way to bring in the New Year and taxied out to Temazcal. The entire place had been rented for the evening by a large Mexican family with several children. I begged and they graciously allowed us to participate. We were served a tasty Mexican dinner. Meanwhile, the sauna or sweat lodge, a circular hut made of stones, was being heated.
After dinner, we donned bathing suits, entered the "oven" and sat on benches arranged in a circle around a fire pit that was topped with very hot stones. It was pitch black. An Indian shaman chanted incantations; people sang and sweated. A small child cried, perhaps somewhat frightened by the experience. Periodically, someone poured water on the stones; the steam rose and we got hotter. I finally had to leave. Purification apparently is synonymous with meltdown and I felt as though I would soon be sharing the same fate as the Wicked Witch of the North. Welcoming the chilly air, I dipped in a cold pool, which wasn't quite so welcomed but part of the ritual, and dressed. Hot chocolate and snacks awaited.
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Our taxi driver forgot to return for us but we finally conjured up a ride. Back in town, we noticed small bonfires everywhere. During the days, we had observed dummies of old men stuffed with straw on almost every porch in town. Representing the old year, these "scarecrows" are burned on New Year's Eve. Church bells rang and rang. What a splendid New Year's Eve!
The photographs below are not the usual quality. They had to be scanned from prints. I have included two from our lunch of langostinos and chapolte soup prepared by a charming woman we visited who lived in a modest, experimental community in the rainforest outside Catemaco. This community was attempting to be environmentally self-sufficient. But that is another story.
DO YOU KNOW OF OTHER UNUSUAL NEW YEAR'S EVE CELEBRATIONS OR TRADITIONS? DO YOU HAVE TRAVEL ADVENTURES TO SHARE? I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU.
Great Reads
Recommendations from readers: "By the Grace of the Sea", by Pat Henry.
"Red Walls and Homesteads" by Helena Thomas Rubottom, "I'll Gather My Geese" by Hallie Crawford Stillwell, "A Day Late and A Dollar Short" by Spike Van Cleve, "Seabiscuit" by ?
THOUGHT FOR THE MONTH: "When we passively wait for things to change, we are living in fear." Rhonda Britten from her book "Fearless Living"
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WINGS Vol. II, No. 1, January, 2003
