La Vida Mexico

…At The Inn At San Pancho

What It’s Like Now

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Light — at the heart of everything we see and always impossible to describe – is what woke me this morning.  Not just any old morning light. Imagine a light strong enough to wake you up. It was silver and had no edges, cast no shadows. It was just light, there in the room, like a piece of furniture. All three bedroom windows were open and a strong sea breeze, powerful enough to knock over my granddaughter Cassie’s picture on the bureau, swirled through the room and turned waking into spectacle.  I hesitate to use the word nature – so overused, as in “I like nature” – but truly you don’t expect nature to walk in, wake you up and take over your bedroom. At least I don’t.

But there they were the two of them, the splendid light and the swift, cool breeze blowing around the inside of my house. Not a hurricane, you understand, but a damned stiff wind. The white curtains were sailing toward the ceiling and the sheets were rising off the bed, and I tell you this was nature doing a jig. I heard something fall in the kitchen.  

Eventually, the luminous light evaporated and light itself became less of a presence as if a stranger had come and settled down for a brief rest – it being so blustery out – and then faded away.

Meanwhile, I am still in bed with the breeze drifting over me. To my right at the far side of the village I see a sliver of beach and a ravaged surf, white caps, one lone white sail. To the south, at the end of my bed, the Primervera tree — blossoms mostly gone — is swaying like an old gypsy at the end of a party. Beyond it, the mountain climbs crookedly toward a bluing sky.  The east window is a wall of foliage —  dead leaves dark as winter rivers,  others the spring green of five minutes ago. The bully wind is having a bit of fun with two yellow butterflies and the mountains you pass through on the way to Guadalajara are lavender.

Though astonishing, I don’t mean to suggest this blend of wind and light was a miracle in the way of the Lady of Guadalupe or the parting of the seas. My waking was not so much spiritual as it was spirited. I am still here in bed several hours later with the wind and the memory of the light, feeling quiet in a lively sort of way, and trying to describe the light ….and what it’s like now.


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