In 2006 I received notification of a “power journey” with the Toltec nagual don Miguel. The trip was to include several Yucatan peninsula pyramids, especially Chichén Itzá. I had wanted to visit these pyramids for a long time, so I signed up for the trip. I tried to convince my wife to go along with me on this tour, but she wasn’t interested. I ended up going by myself.
As the day of the trip grew closer, I started to worry that I had signed up for a “tourist trip” rather that a power trip. However, I finally decided that any trip was going to be interesting, and if it is just a tourist thing, so be it.
I was very pleased to discover that my fears were unfounded; it was indeed a “power journey” with don Miguel, his son, daughter-in-law and several Toltec teachers.It turned out to be a marvelous time with a whole new group of strangers from all over the world. I found that I was blessed with joining a group of very spiritual and fun loving people. Once again, I had worked myself up into a worry that was totally unfounded – I was glad that I had decided to stop worrying and just go with the flow.
While it was a great trip, not a lot of overt “magic” took place as is sometimes the case with don Migual. We had fun touring the sites, thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company and had great discussions with Miguel and the others – but I didn’t have visions or experience other interesting spiritual events. I enjoyed visiting the ball courts, various pyramids, and the peninsula, but it wasn’t really a life changing experience. However, I did have one very important epiphany on that trip that has changed the way that I think about much of what I do.
Chichén Itzá is a restored pyramid ceremonial complex that was built more than a thousand years ago by the joint efforts of the Mayans and the Toltecs. It has been cleared out from the lush green, jungle-like surroundings. The days of our visit were warm and comfortable, with clear blue skies.
Our tour of about thirty people broke up into two groups, a men’s group and a women’s group to do some spiritual “work.” The men’s group was led by a teacher who instructed us in meditation, becoming centered and similar activities. He did a good job and was interesting, but since I had been working on these kinds of things for the past forty years I really didn’t find anything particularly new. While there wasn’t anything “new” in his teachings, the location certainly was new to me. It was beautiful sitting under the big shade tree next to the base of Chichén Itzá, listening to the lessons and watching the people in the large grassy area around the pyramid. The day was a beautiful warm day in a magical location, enjoyed with loving people. I just settled in to enjoy the experience.
After resting for awhile in the shade the tree, we were asked to walk by ourselves around the pyramid, stopping at each side to contemplate whatever came up. I walked around the first two sides, mainly in awe of the work and workmanship evidenced by the structure. I found it amazing that the builders had gone to so much effort, at such as huge expense, to build – what? Is it more than just a big pile of stones? Obviously this thing had a great utility in their lives, but what could it have been?
As I walked along I started to wonder if there was something that I needed to know that I might learn in this place. I recalled a problem that I keep running into about my “creative side.” I have always wanted, yearned, and desired to be “creative” in an artistic sense. I believe that I am fairly creative technically (I am a creative builder, designer, engineer and craftsman) but don’t feel competent when it comes to artistic endeavors such as drawing, writing, painting or doing any other “creative” activities. I realized that I want to do these things, and was trying to do them, but was not feeling successful in my attempts. My entire relationship with “art” was as a person trying to do something. For example, when I talked to people about my movie making efforts, I explained that I was in the process of learning how to make videos – rather than that I was making videos. The same thing applied to my drawing efforts. I claimed to be doodling to learn how to draw, not that I was drawing.
Over the years I have been told that I am a terrible writer, and that I had no chance of ever getting better at it. I was told by an art teacher that I had no talent and shouldn’t even bother with it. I have been told many of these things, and agreed with the tellers.
With these thoughts drifting through my head, I sat under a big old shade tree and fell into a meditation while contemplating the pyramid.
All of a sudden it dawned on me, the problem that I have with my relationship with art isn’t that I can’t do art, it is that I am always trying to do it, rather than just doing it. I realized that of course I can be artistic, I can do art.Maybe nobody but me will appreciate it, but so what? All I need to do is do things for myself, nobody needs to know, and I don’t have to judge it based upon what I think their opinions will be. I don’t need to try to do anything, I just need to do it the best that I can at the moment. That is all that I can do and it is just right.
Maybe it won’t be as good as I would like, maybe others will think that it is childish or amateurish, but that doesn’t mean that it isn’t art or that it isn’t important to me. It all seemed so obvious and silly all of a sudden. All that I had to do was stop trying. It isn’t even that I had to start doing, I was already doing art with my videos, writing, doodling, woodwork, and many other things that I do in my life. Rather than stop trying and start doing, it became more like “stop trying, and let it be.” Nothing has to change except for the story in my head.
This little awakening made me feel like my feet had been loosened from the ground, I felt lighter and freer. It was as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. The outcomes of my efforts no longer mattered so much, I could stop “trying” and start just being. I could move from the future when I might learn to do these things to the present where I do them.
When we got back to the hotel that day I went to my room, got out my sketch pad and went back to the pyramids to see what would happen if I just started to draw and not worry about learning how to do it, or trying to do it right. I decided to just let it come without forcing or really worrying about it. I could always tear it out and throw it away if I didn’t like what I did.
I went back and sat under a big sprawling tree and started to sketch one of the pyramids. What to my wondering eyes should appear but a reasonable sketch of what I was looking at. It didn’t look at all bad, and in fact was a pretty good rendition of what I was seeing and feeling. A couple of kids noticed what I was doing, and came over to watch. A small boy stood behind my shoulder watching the drawing appear with me, while his little sister sat on a large limb not far away. All of us watched in fascination as the images formed on the paper. I think I was probably more fascinated than they because they didn’t understand the mystery of it – to them I was probably just a tourist who came to draw the pyramids.
As I drew the sketch, I noticed a very unusual thing about it – the vantage point was all wrong. The drawing was from a point very close to the height of the pyramid while in actual fact I was sitting on the ground at the level of the base of the pyramid. I could not see the view that I was drawing, that view came from someplace in my mind’s eye, but not from what I was actually seeing. I realized that part of the “art” of this drawing was in creating an interpretation of what I was seeing, rather than just making a crude photographic like image of it. I was unconsciously selecting objects and vantage points to render something other than just a rendition of what was entering my eye.
During the rest of this trip I purposefully took the time to sit and make sketches of things in my surroundings, such as the ancient “observatory” almost hidden in the dense foliage across the road from the front door of our hotel. I found that making these sketches had a way of slowing time for me, it seemed to open a space for me to more closely observe and feel the place where I was sitting. Instead of rushing from place to place, thinking whatever thoughts were rushing around in my mind, stopping to sketch allowed me time to stop and just enjoy where I was.
Looking back at those sketches brings back the feelings, smells, temperature and experiences in ways that photographs or post cards cannot approach. Somehow the simple act of sketching the scenes formed memories that go much deeper and are more lasting than I normally form while moving through life.