Reflections on Maya Sites, Salsa Dancing and the Natural World

on San Cristobal . . . 

Hey Mom, Dad, Dan, and all of the other TTS parents,

This past week we left our campground at Palenque to travel to the beautiful town of San Cristobal de las Casas. As a side note - did you know that howler monkeys sounded like dinosaurs? At times, our camping area sounded just like Jurassic Park! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-vxlnZ8BihI

Anyway, our first night in San Cristobal was wonderful. We had a delicious pizza dinner, listened to a man named Jose Manuel talk about the EZLN movement (http://hemisphericinstitute.org/hemi/en/su10-tourism/item/879-su10-brief-historical-background-zapatista-movement), and walked through the town, glowing yellow with street lights. At one point, Ava, Mikaela, Simone, Anna, and I even salsa danced to live music in the central park! The town is alive in its colorful buildings and shops, and I´m so excited to learn more about the history of the Zapatistas and San Cristobal. 

Love to everybody at home! I miss you guys! Heart.
-Eliza, Junior, TN

 on a moment in Semuc Champey . . .

   Last night as a short flirtatious Mayan spun me around in my trackless Tom´s, I found myself more grounded than ever before (despite my lack of fancy footwork). Guatemalan salsa fed my ears in hues of roja and anaranjado. (http://www.addicted2salsa.com/videos/lesson/more-advanced-salsa-dance-moves) I was sailing in sands and tides of 1, 2, 3. Sand was moving below my feet and each time the waves withdrew and I kept losing my footing. Musical currents and someone else's hands and feet were moving my own. Tomatoes, onions, jalapenos - all the ingredients of salsa filled my lungs as the waves grew taller and the spins faster. A rain forest breeze from the open deck briefly cooled me like a spoonful of guac before it was back to the spice of salsa. "Mas despacio, escucha," broke the overwhelming colors of sand. "Stop trying to lead," Toto scowled in broken English. So I took my desperate feet out of the sand and let the ocean teach me how to swim. 

   I felt more alive as I let myself drown. I didn't notice that I was sweating more than the rain forest downpours. I didn't care that Toto probably thought I was a silly white gringa with no hips. I didn't mind that there was a room full of people watching, or that I hadn't showered in six days, or that Jon Smith in so and so thought this and that about me. I  cared where my left foot went after my right and where my right foot fell after that. I was present. I was smiling. All I could feel was my smile. All I could taste was picante. All I thought about were my feet, but in caring about them I had to let go of them completely. I was in a wheelchair of music, yet I'd never felt so grounded. I knew there was nothing else I'd rather be doing at 9:46 on that Saturday in that jungle of an ocean of sounds. In losing my feet, I found my ground. 

  So often I'm forcing myself, my own feet, into the moment, but I'm not really there. I'm caring about every other thing than what should matter. Being gone from the world of planning and conscience, into the land of presence was revitalizing. I've heard it said that dogs live their whole lives in the present - no daydreaming, no fretting over the past. Just here, just under this sun. By turning off the awareness of all of those eyes around me, I want to connect with the dog senses I've neglected while living so many years ahead of each day. I want to salsa the way through the rest of my life. 

  It's easier said than done. Here I am already reflecting, revisiting, daydreaming of moments I'm not currently living. Because, while as simple as being a dog would be, I have to appreciate my awareness of all the tenses. I can't live every second in the present or I would never grow, like I am while writing this. It´s knowing and continuing to find these moments of present "meditation" that are key to caring for myself. These moments of utter presence are the most sincere forms of relaxation and happiness. Being aware and open to finding them is the most I can promise myself right now.

-Emelia, Junior, ME

on Tikal . . .

About a week and a half ago, we all got up at 5:30 am and drove to Tikal. It was worth the early morning. The morning didn't get too hot, and we were able to focus on our tour. I loved learning about the advancements that the Maya people made, especially with reading and mapping the sun and the stars. For science, my assignment while at Tikal was to learn about and observe the relationship between humans and this environment and write a poem about what I learned. This is what I wrote:

            Roads carve through dense forests
            Winding through trees and back in time.
            And what do these roads reveal?
            Great holes - once reservoirs,
            Vast lakes that sustained life.
            Great hills that cover hidden structures,        
            Mountains that told about time and space.
            The roads wind on …
            Those people who used these roads were smart.
            They chose their corn so it would grow.
            They cut and replaced the forest.
            Trees for medicine and for food
            For dye and for building houses.
            The roads wind forward in time.
            The people steal trees from the Earth,
            And the Earth erodes and evicts its masters.
            Today roads wind by secrets of the Maya
            Still hidden by the environment
            Exacting its revenge for its suffering long ago.

-Ruth, Sophomore, MO