Three Days. Three Vignettes. And a Subway.
Sharing a few moments that delighted me in the last few days. Because we need delight.
I have been in Mexico City – well, in Coyoacán, more exactly, for almost two weeks.
I wanted to escape the oppressive heat of the coast for a while, I wanted to recharge my art batteries, and I wanted to see if I could meet a few men, the company of which I would enjoy.
In that order.
So far, I have done well on all counts, with the art part being more inspiring than the men part. But I am still here a little while.
Museums everywhere, galleries, Casas de Culturas with their huge gardens, and rich welcoming and offerings. I love it here.
Specifically in Coyoacán, the beloved home of Frida Kahlo and goodness, I get it. Cobblestone streets, colored homes, music, cafés, parks, history, gentleness, food, art… a big contrast to the jungle life – which I also love. Because as it turns out, when it comes to places, I am fully non-monogamous.
But what I want to write about today is much quieter than how tingly I felt visiting El Museo de Arte Popular or standing in front of a Diego Rivera mural.
I want to talk about the tiny moments, the moments that wiggle their way into our Joy Container and refill it without making any noise or announcing themselves.
In this case, these three moments all happened over the last three days.
Vignette #1
Jardín Centenario, Coyoacán
Sitting at the park after a slow walk back from the market (oh, Coyoacán Market… how I love you) I am watching the world go by. Just like I did sitting at a Paris café terrace when I was a kid and took it for granted. A mom is throwing fire poppers on the ground for her young son to step on and make sparks. He is squealing with delight and allowing the joy to take over his body, all squirms and smiles and legs he can’t fully control. I wonder what it would be like to feel this free, to let myself flail around with the thrill of the moment. I wonder when that goes away. I wonder if it can come back.
I feel the smile on my face – my own domesticated grown-up version of being tickled by the world – and I know that this moment, this exact moment is what I think of as being happy. I have enough of everything I need right then, and peace is tucked safely inside of me.
Next to me is a garbage can and I notice a woman walking towards it. She is wearing a face mask, a nice skirt and has long, pretty gray hair. She is carrying a few plastic bags and when she reaches the can, she puts her hand in it and looks through what’s inside, the way one may look for the perfect tomato at the vegetable store.
It’s a funny thing, this moment.
She may be homeless, she may be hungry, she may be curious… I am not sure. But what I am sure of is that for some reason that I still can’t quite know, there is nothing weird or off-putting about it. Also, I am aware of how not-weird this it.
I sit on my bench, I look at her, I smile at the air and there is a knowing that here we are, two women at the park today, doing whatever we are doing. Me sitting, her looking through the garbage can.
A minute or two later, she stops what she was doing and gets ready to leave. Me, I am still looking at her, not thinking a whole lot.
As she walks past me, she stops and she says to me: “Tu cabello es tan bonito, todo amontonado en tu cabeza. No te lo toques nunca.” In English: “Your hair is so pretty, all piled up on your head. Don't ever do anything to it.”
Her eyes tell me that under her mask, she is smiling. I thank her, I smile too, and then she walks away. Maybe she has other cans to explore, maybe she is going home to make dinner, maybe she is going to sleep under a tree, maybe she is writing a book. I don’t know.
But what I do know is that in those short moments, at the end of an afternoon in a country I love, her woman-heart touched mine and maybe mine touched hers too.
Vignette #2
Casa de Cultura, Coyoacán
I had walked through the big wood-and-metal door of the House of Culture a few nights before and had immediately been enchanted. The sun had already set, the rain was about to fall and I felt as though I has stepped into a beautiful movie set, if a movie set could exist with all the actors but none of the crew.
A spectacular old house of many rooms surrounded by many casitas. A garden that would have its place in a magazine, leaves of every size and shade of green. Statues, stairs, I could tell that there were many hidden nooks, too.
In an upstairs room, I could see ballerinas leaning in front or mirrors while classical music filled the room and spilled through the open windows and a teacher counted: “ Uno, dos, tres…”
There was a quiet buzz as people - mostly in their 20s - walked in and out of “salons,” talking and laughing.
I just walked around, I was in a mild trance as though this was a place I had wanted to know but never had. A place of safety, of art, of community, of beauty and of simplicity. My Core Essences were purring, and there it was, less than a ten-minute walk from my little home.
I knew I had to be back and before I left I walked into the office and enquired about art classes. I was presented with a long list of invitations ranging from drawing to dancing to painting, meditation, ceramics, languages. and more. It felt as though The Center for Happiness had moved itself across the world and received a Mexican passport.
Then I saw a class for Repujado, a craft dating back to the 12th Century and which is still seen today ornamenting mirrors, furniture, paintings and more. I think the English equivalent would be “metal embossing,” and it is something I have I admired for years. It had never occurred to me that I could learn how to do it.
Because these Casas de Culturas are part of the government, the enrollement process requires a bit of paperwork. Nothing too crazy but enough to make it feel official and also in my case, like some sort of honor. Another level of belonging, maybe.
Once you are enrolled, the classes are not very expensive and there is an endless menu to choose from.
But I am leaving. For now. And so enrolling with the government didn’t make that much sense. I explained this the nice woman in the office and she told me to just show up at class time in a few days, ask for Sra Guadalupe, then to work it out with her.
Show up I did.
This time, it was the middle of the day and while the place was still buzzing with a beautiful energy, the people were of all ages. Coming and going, laughing and generally exuding the vibe of people who are engaged in something they enjoy in a place they love. Some were sitting on benches, others gathered around tables, and others going to various classrooms.
I stopped by the office to ask where “my” classroom was and was escorted by the lady I had first met to a small house in the back of the huge garden where Sra Guadalupe was standing in the middle of many wild-looking creations and art tools. The woman told her that I had something to ask her having to do with the Repujado class, and then she left.
I felt a little intimidated and wasn’t sure how to ask to take just one class. Once again –there I was coloring outside the lines and was she going to like that? She seemed like an artsy tough cookie.
I think I said three words before she led me to a tiny room in the back of the house, introduced me to the young man who was sitting at a table creating magic on shiny sheets of soft aluminum and said: “This is Antonio. You’re going to do what he does.”
Then as I started to tell her that you know… I wasn’t really legit, she answered: “Hey, we’re Mexicans. We’re welcoming. You want to learn, I teach you.”
And so that’s how I spent the next hour going through phase after phase of embossing curvy lines on metal, talking with Antonio and not quite believing my luck.
At the end of the hour she said I could come back next week, as long as I enrolled properly or I could buy some of the aluminium and practice at home. I bought a big old sheet and believe me, I will practice at home. I am already dreaming of how to incorportate the technique into my art - and of at some point staying here long enough to enroll and learn, learn, learn.
Vignette #3
The Metro, Mexico City
I had spent the day exploring museums, getting happily lost in many streets and when the rain started pouring down, I and many other people ducked into the subway.
I slipped my recently gifted metro card into the little metal turny thing, looked at the map of what-line-goes-where the way my Parisian grandma had taught me as soon as I could read, and made my way to the appropriate platform.
Me and what seemed like 200 other people, all of us very wet from the downpour.
We were squished, and it seemed like a long time before we heard the sound of the train arriving from the belly of these undergroundd tunnels that feel like my childhood.
But we did hear the sound as well as the strident whistle from a security person announcing that “we had to let the people get out before we get in.” Which made sense and which I didnt think, needed such a loud whistle.
As the train approached, we could all see that suprise, surprise, it was empty.
Amazing. This meant that 1) we could skip the “let the people get out before we get in” part and 2) there may even be room for all of us wet bunch.
Less amazing: the empty train slowed way down as it passed us, slow enough that we could almost read the posters on its inside walls and then… it picked up speed and within seconds had disapeared into the belly of the tunnel while 200 heads turned right in disbelief.
Then. Get ready for it… a huge, roaring communal laughter erupted.
People looking at each other as though a really good joke had just been shared over some loudspeaker. Men, women, kids, everyone was laughing. Wet, cold, squished and filled with hilarity.
Me, I melted.
Looking at all these people, not one of them complaining, taken over by the ridiculousnes of the moment, the surprise, the … life. Once more I was reminded of why I live here.
Mexico. With its inconveniences, its chaos, its irreverence to just about everything but death (which it manages to not turn somber). Its “no pasa nada” too, which have occasionally infuriated me, especially in the early days before I surrendered, before I had been here long enough to really, truly get it: most things are not that big a deal.
So here you go, three little vignettes I wanted to share with you. I have about a dozen more but I think it’s enough for today. Maybe you will recognize yourself in some of them, maybe they will inspire you, maybe they will make you smile.
Oh, and I asked Sra Guadalupe (who told me to call her Lupita after I surprised her with a grateful hug on my way out) if she would come to our Sacred Spark Retreat in November and teach us this beautiful “repujado.” She said she would!
***
Back to Me is tomorrow! We have a great group and you can still join us. Just use the QR code on the poster or email me and I’ll send you the login info. And if you can’t make it and still want to take the class, it will be recorded.
“Back to Me” is a powerful course that will give you a ton of insight into who you are and why you live your life the way you do, along with a simple way to make some deep and lasting change.
🟡 If you are at a place in your life where knowing yourself intimately — in a way that you likely haven’t yet — is important, whether you already “Speak Essence” or not, I warmly and excitedly invite you to join me.
🟡 If you are at a crossroads and know you need to get really close to YOU before making some big decisions, if you yearn for Clarity, I warmly and excitedly invite you to join me.
🟡 If your life includes guiding others through big choices, I also warmly and lovingly invite you to join me.
(The class will be recorded in case you can’t be there live – And if you take the class and feel that you haven’t gotten something powerful out of it, I will send you your money back. Because I really want you to be there)
