Another Way of Life

I’ve been in Mexico for over a week, enjoying the sights and sounds of El Centro Historico de Puebla. It’s a gorgeous city with a slightly unnerving view of an active volcano. There’s no mistaking this thing for a mountain; the ribbon of smoke is clearly visible.

I’m here for a Spanish program, but I’m finding myself learning more than language. The culture here is palpable and embracing. The people are proud of their city, and they want to show it to you. The history, the churches, the art, the music, it resonates with me. Beautiful murals, graffiti art, and street vendors. The smells of grilled meat, car exhaust, and fresh crepes. Cobblestones, brick, slate, and marble; iron balconies with canvas awnings, and cabbies dodging in and out of traffic like they were trained in Manhattan.

But everyone is calm. No one is stressed about their jobs, their lives, or their circumstances. No one rushes down the street. People stroll. Couples walk around holding hands, or arm in arm, and they whisper while stealing kisses, unaware of anyone around them. Children tote balloons of their favorite cartoon characters, as they walk with their parents around the Zocalo.

Walking into any of the 300 iglesias around Puebla, there’s a sense of quiet reverence. Lit candles, people having confessional, others taking pictures of the ornate and elaborate ceilings and fixtures, gorgeous chandeliers, and quiet mass services. I even walked right in and witnessed a wedding on a Friday afternoon. It was different than others I’d witnessed in a Catholic church, but it was gorgeous. I could feel the nervous joy of the bride and groom, the amusement of their families, and the excitement of the children trying their hardest to keep still.

The music, almost competing from the four corners of the Zocalo, is rhythmic and romantic. The mariachis play, and then a drum line appears, and crowds gather in appreciation. It’s hard to decide which one you want to listen to. Hearing the different bands play at the time still sounds like music, and not just a bunch of noise. I have no idea how that works, but it does.

Street vendors, performers, and people handing out flyers. People sitting at patio tables under big umbrellas eating ice cream cones. Folks standing in line for street tacos. The scents of chocolate and mole sauce as you pass the closest restaurant. Museums standing open, waiting for you to come in.

It’s a lovely place. If you haven’t visited, you should.

Hotel Palacio San Leonardo

Zen Moments

The last few months have been complete craziness.

As much as I want to say I never think about those butterflies I used to feel in the past, I really can’t say it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I’m not over it. I don’t think about it all the time, but once in a while it just hits me. Needless to say, I’ve made every attempt to find other outlets of fascination.

Work has been up and down; the question of relocating has been on my mind, but I’m not completely sold on moving just yet. As more and more work piles up, I’ve tried to quiet the worry in my mind and keep from stressing the little things and the things that are outside of my control.

I’m about to be a godmother… again. This time, I’m not as worried, because it’s my best friend’s son. I can’t wait to meet my little guy. He’s going to be so loved.

I’ve been reading books on meditation, and I already love my yoga. Taking mini moments to reflect and just breathe, when normally I would just blow up at someone, shows that something is working. Every day is a work in progress, a page in this chapter of my life.

If nothing else, I’m more comfortable with me, and I’m more open to whatever may come. Whether I’m reunited with butterflies or go in a completely different direction, I’m open to whatever may come, and I refuse to force the situation or bend to something that runs contrary to what I want or who I am.

One step, one breath, one page, one day at a time. Woosahhhhhh.

Flake-ish

Are you the dependable one or the flake?

I find that, oftentimes, I am bothered by even the idea that people will say they’re going to do something and then they don’t. Without notice, without a reason, without any consideration for your time. And it could be anything — meeting you for lunch, calling you, going on a trip. Don’t put me in a position where I’m waiting for you, and you don’t even have the courtesy to call.

Worse still, don’t call me at the EXACT minute you’re supposed to be somewhere to tell me you’re running 20 minutes late. You probably knew that 30 minutes ago. At this point, I already know you’re late.

I do my best to surround myself with like-minded people, but it takes time to weed out who I can rock with long term. If you can’t respect my time the way I respect yours, this friendship will be short-lived.

I guarantee it.