landing has been a fog of trashy tramadol withdrawal. it was freezing while we were away but now it's warm and there's something so right and wrong about sitting on a platform outside the house in a tshirt in front of a corrugated metal sheet radiating light and heat while holding a burning stick of copal incense.
i lit a fire in the wood stove in the bus for the first time. the way the line of the mountains is framed in the windows is sublime. this will be a place of great inspiration for a lot of people. spanky even handled the popping of the juniper wood in the stove to lay by my side on the bed and hold guard.
there's a story about mexico when emily got her tattoo of gryphons and the wheel of fortune. it's always a crapshoot when i am somewhere where it is loud and bright and have nowhere comfortable to sit. one should just sit back and wonder what bett is going to be up to. the woman at the shop played florence and the machine for the whole 6 hours. I walked up and down the streets when I wasn't in the shock of the shop. i saw the shaman who guided the ayuhuaska trip and the woman who invited me. they looked so cute street urchin-ish. i saw them from a distance, didn't recognize them but got a heady body hit of the medicine, even thought to myself, there's the medicine, hello. and there they were. hugs and invitations to more ceremonies.
walked to go eat some barbeque at a place where there was some street music. five girls in shorts playing some political mexican music. they all had short hair. no one liked them or gave them any money. they were pretty awful, shrill and pinched in a joan baez sort of way. I felt very sorry for them. one, the dykiest one, had a drum around her neck that had an 8 pointed star on the skin. in a fit of mania from my sheer suffering from the music and the street and the hours, i paid her 200 pesos to come to the tattoo shop to "play for emily." bad idea. emily has a phobia of drummers. as do i actually. i don't know what i was thinking. i paid her 100 pesos to go away. she didn't want to take it but i insisted because i was so mortified.
my body releases toxins from traveling. my psyche sheds the stress of being in such mediated tourist space. ultimately though, tulum is a space of freedom beneath its heady commercial fumes of gasoline, copal smoke and alcohol. it is populated by people who do not acknowledge borders. upon returning i have been looking at my land and seeing it in a very different way. i cried the other day when i saw i could not walk freely to the mountain ahead, because i could not cross another person's land. this seemed insane to me. something in my body has relinquished ownership of my property and now i live as a caretaker. the property where i live has lots of rules. my bus is definitely not allowed. i have decided i am going to consciously break the rules. i am stealing my own land back. i slipped in through the cracks into a privileged little neighborhood. i will let this land fully exist as a place on the earth for all beings.