I've settled into the rhythm here in Sayulita. It took a few days as we were concerned and slightly on edge about the hurricane, which never arrived. Yesterday the arms of the storm reached the town late in the day and we had a good drenching. Everything shut down, we stayed in the hotel, writing and reading in the inner courtyard, windows open. Now I'm just in the being, letting the day happen without expectation. I'll swim today, get sun, drink beer, read.
This morning we woke up early, got coffee and sat on a log the beach. The sun finally broke through the clouds and it was idyllic. I sat on a log on the beach late yesterday afternoon as well, watching the ocean. The sea calms me, always has. I try to lock the peace into me, hold on to the moment so that when I'm frenzied I can revisit it. In the breaking waves large fish were chasing smaller fish. Pelicans sailed over the waves, skimming the water for a meal. High overhead frigates circled. I love the shape of flying frigates, black angles turning on the currents. I was surprised how empty the beach was while we were there. Except for a few surfers and workers setting up beach chairs, it was empty. If I lived his close to the beach I would spend as much time there as possible.
I haven't brushed my hair since Monday and it has reverted to curls. I rarely let my hair go natural. It looks good, away from a hair brush and taming. Vanity is a strange thing. I don't think too much about how I look and feel awkward taking pictures. But I know later in life I'll want a record. I prefer to feel good. I look forward to getting back to the gym this weekend, challenging my body.
I haven't done much writing but I've done a lot of contemplating. Good and uncomfortable contemplating. I'm in the middle of a sea change, the waves come and go as I look to what's next in my life. I have to relearn the whole being in the moment. I think too much at times, get too wrapped up in what if. The questions, I have to remind myself, are more interesting than the answers.
My dreams have been more intense here in Mexico, as they always are. More vibrant and meaningful. I go again and again to the same place in my dreams, the same landscape but the emotions have been stronger.
Ex-pat towns are always odd. People who live in another country but choose to isolate themselves in a community that has little to do with immersing oneself in the culture. Why move to another country if you don't like the people and don't want to learn the language? Yesterday Cecil snapped at a man who didn't even know how to say the name of the town we're in.
I'm reading Saturday night at Vermin on the Mount. I've not decided what I'm going to read. I have options, and am leaning toward a short fiction piece. I'm billed as a poet, which I am but I haven't written much poetry the last year. I've tried to go into storytelling. I'm contemplating reading a short story I started on Mexico a year and ago. I started it because of a song I heard sung by a family member. I have an idea for a novella based on my favorite Mexican songs.
Tonight we'll be the only guests in the hotel. I don't think either of us mind as we have isolated ourselves. I don't feel particularly social and don't feel like engaging in vacation conversation. I haven't taken many pictures, I rarely do. I don't travel to being home souvenirs or photographs, I travel to get into myself away from what I'm used to. My experiences on this trip haven't been anything extraordinary but I'm enjoying the pace of it. The days are long and slow. Heading home tomorrow. I have a little acid in my stomach over it.