فصل 6

6

South of the Border

The summer of 1971 was approaching, and I would soon be free from classes. I was in my second year of graduate school, and though my attendance had not been that regular, I still managed to maintain my high grades. I was studying just enough to do really well on my final exams and written papers. There was no question about what I was going to do with my summer—more meditation and yoga. The only question was, where would I do it?

That was probably the first time in my life that I consciously began to notice a distinct, recurring theme in the events unfolding outside of me. It began when, out of the blue, a classmate asked me if I had ever been down to Mexico. He said it was an interesting place to spend some time. Shortly thereafter, I was in a bookstore and practically tripped over a book about touring Mexico that someone had left on the floor. This started me thinking that maybe I should get away for a while, and maybe Mexico would be a good idea. The final straw was when I went to a gas station to fill up, and someone had left a map of Mexico on top of the pump I was using. Those were enough signs for me. I decided to go off to Mexico.

I didn’t know where I was going—Mexico is a pretty big place. But in my state of mind, it really made no difference. I would just go and let it unfold. My friends and family were not all that excited about me going off to Mexico alone with no agenda. I got a lot of warnings about banditos and cautions about avoiding strangers. I spoke some classroom Spanish, just enough to get in trouble. With little more than that, I headed off to Mexico.

My trip took me along the Gulf Coast states and down through Texas. While driving, I would focus on my breath and utter Mu in my belly. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was listen to that voice in my head chatter all day. Each night I would find a place to pull over in the woods, meditate, and go to sleep. At that pace, it took a few days to drive down to north-central Mexico, which was where I ended up.

One evening, deep in rural Mexico, I couldn’t find any woods to pull into for the night. I didn’t feel comfortable just pulling over on the side of the road, so I didn’t know what to do. I ended up driving off-road and climbing one of the more gradual foothills until I reached a glorious vista on the crest of a grassy pasture. There were no fences or houses in sight, so that is where I spent the night.

The next morning was breathtaking. A mist floated above the fields, and I could see all the colors of the sunrise. It was so beautiful that I did my morning meditation and yoga postures outside. I went very deep, and an echo of the peace I was seeking overcame my being. I stayed on that grassy hill for many weeks without ever leaving. Each day I increased my periods of meditation and yoga. My mind was quieting down, and my heart was starting to breathe again.

One morning I was startled by a tapping on the side door of my van. I became very scared. Had the banditos finally found me, or was the owner of the land going to throw me off at gunpoint? Upon opening the door, I found a young boy about eight years old standing outside with a container in his hands.

“Esta leche es de mi mama para el Americano en la colina.”

I struggled to translate, “This milk is from my mother for the American on the hill.” I was so moved, and I thanked him so much. Here I had thought the worst, as usual, and it turned out to be an act of kindness in the middle of nowhere in Mexico.

I was gradually learning that life was not as fragile as that voice in my head would have me believe. There were experiences to be had, but only if you were willing to have them. Most important, that was the first time I can remember crediting life for the flow of events that had unfolded. After all, I hadn’t arranged for the perfect place to pull over and spend a few weeks in meditation and solitude, not to mention to have that kind visit from the boy. Life had provided those things to me; I had just followed the flow. I was beginning to see all these experiences as a gift from life.