My second week in Mexico

My second week in Ajijic went well on the whole, although the weather was not great and I got a cold myself the last couple of days. I moved to a new place, a guesthouse/AirBnB called Casa Aurora, and I loved the view from my bedroom and the central garden (although it was too cold to sit out there much, and there was no indoors shared space at all).

View of the mountain from Casa Aurora

Garden/courtyard of Casa Aurora. Steps to a communal kitchen are off to the right.

I did a reasonable amount of writing -- maybe not as much as I hoped. During this trip I've definitely written myself down a few rabbit holes into things that aren't going to work, but I guess that's part of the process -- that not everything I write with the intention of it being in the book will end up there. This whole process is so exploratory, figuring out what I want to say and how to say it. I am beginning to realize that some parts (especially memoir ones) need to be fleshed out more than I had planned, and some other parts (especially more abstract ones) end up sounding heavy and pretentious and probably need to be left out or scaled back. I never felt able to focus on research-y, historical material during my trip, but I'm giving myself a pass on that.

I had been very solitary the first week, and seemed to want it that way. I went into a very deep and rather painful emotional place, but I began to emerge in the second week -- not that I felt I left what I had been brooding on behind, but rather that I had gone as far as I could in my grasp of it for the time and could now (mostly) let it rest for the moment. I met up with two women who live there this week and enjoyed getting to know them. And I participated in two writers' groups, which was exciting not only as something to do in Mexico, but these were the first such groups I've been in for a long time. So it was the experience of feeling like I was publicly identifying as a "writer" and being accepted in that identity. 

I really enjoyed participating in the Lake Chapala Society's "write from a prompt" group (I wish I could have gone to it both weeks, but I was sick on the day it met first). This group follows what is apparently the Amherst Writers and Artists Method. A prompt is given, everyone writes in silence for 45 minutes, and then everyone in turn reads their piece and people comment supportively but do not critique. The prompt led me to write a piece about coming to Iowa after the trauma I went through in my first job in New Jersey, which might in fact go in the book. People seemed to like it, which was encouraging. I had coffee with some of the members afterwards, and found myself describing the whole project -- that people seemed truly taken with the few things I told them about Mary Dyer was also heartening to me. Then the next day, I attended the Lake Chapala Writer's Group (this might not be the precise name) which meets the first and third Fridays of the month in the beautiful garden of La Nueva Posada, where I had previously eaten twice. For this, people sign up to read in advance and then are critiqued by the audience. I was struck that people offered real critique, although I thought it was hard to do so after just hearing a piece and not reading it. Here I am sitting with some of the people I had gotten to know the day before.

Showing only part of the large gathering of folks for the twice-monthly writers' group

The weather was quite cold for most of the week, so I felt chilly all the time. It got nicer the last couple of days and I was able to get some great scenes. The first is from when I climbed partway up the mountain behind Ajijic -- not the smartest thing to do alone as the paths are tricky, but I wanted a chance to see the view.

View of part of Ajijic Village and the lake

On the last evening I watched the sunset with Susa Silvermarie (whom I had learned about through finding her blog posts on the wall mural I did my previous post on, and emailed), and we celebrated Imbolc/Candlemas, a holiday I had not been familiar with but found resonant with the stage I am in and what I was experiencing throughout the trip. On the last afternoon, sitting on the malecon by the lake, I started journaling which led into writing a poem which touched Lake Michigan (intense past memories), Lake Chapala (what I was looking at in the present), and the intersection of all these themes that had characterized my stay. Okay, I don't think it's a good poem, but given that I've barely written any poetry in years, it was exciting to be moved in that direction. And I'm not completely sure if my standards for a "good poem," left over from graduate school, might not be too limiting and academic. Something to explore more in the future....

Sunset over Lake Chapala

Ajijic was so fully of amazing colors and art everywhere you look. It was quite a shock to come back to Iowa and to a snowstorm. Now I look outside and everything is white and some tone of brown or the dullest dark green. Still sorting out what I feel. While I was in Ajijic, I felt clearly that my present life in Iowa is not enough for me, not adequate emotional sustenance, and that I am allowed to want more in my life. But being home again, I appreciate the familiarity of culture and place, and even the emptiness. Is it the beauty of a different environment I want, or is more connection and community what is more important? And where would I best find those things? A lot to think about in the months and years ahead.

Random wall art, near the malecon