Rekindled Friendship

 

Amy and I occasionally have the pleasure of meeting friends from the United States when they come to Oaxaca on vacation. This past week one of Amy’s dearest friends from her former life in Taos, New Mexico came with her daughter and daughters fiancé to visit. They booked a hotel in Centro. We arranged a tour guide for them, and spent precious moments going places together and visiting in our home.

A highlight of our time together was El Museo del Tallador de Sueños; A haven of whimsy and wonder, it is small museum of magical woodcarvings called Alebrije´s. Located in Arrazola, the village neighbors ours. 

The museum is a testament to the artistry and imagination of Oaxacan woodcarvers. What made this visit even more special is Amy's connection to the famous family of artists who own the museum. We are friends with the Jimenez family who own the museum. In fact, Amy made the illustrations for a book called Dream Carver published in the USA and made into a muppets play.

Now, a huge mural adorns the wall at the museum replicating her illustration from the book.

As our Taos friends marveled at the intricate carvings and vibrant hues of the Alebrijes, they couldn't help but be swept away by the enchantment of it all.

With carvings in hand, tangible mementos of their time together and the artistry of Oaxaca, they bid farewell to the museum, hearts brimming with newfound admiration for this corner of the world. The journey had not only rekindled old friendships but also deepened appreciation for the beauty that thrives in spaces between cultures and across borders.

For more about the magic . . .

To Be in THE DREAM

Just being alive is exciting, and my perception is that THE DREAM is a single entity. In other words, every moment is part of the one preceding it, and the one to come. I do not divide them but live in the universal. The present time gives me all that I need.   From My FairyTale Life, February 07, 2010 

During all of the year 2008 I travelled solo around the globe, completely circling the earth, mostly going eastward. I had so many fabulous adventures. They became part of this blog, which I call My Fairy-Tale Life. From the start of the sojourn, my consciousness shifted from deliberate planning to more of observer in a state of flux. The constant flow of surprising sights and sounds in unknown environments left me feeling as if I lived in a dream. This is what I adopted as normal⏤THE DREAM.

Me with Ash. I rented a houseboat from him on Dal Lake, in Kashmir, India. 10/2008

When traveling ended and routine life resumed, I noticed also my perceptions and consciousness slipped back to occupation with matters of health, income, community and family. Thoughts became compartmentalized again. Occasionally I remembered that I am dreaming in real life, but the sensation would go away as exigencies required attention.

Lately I have been reading passages from my days of being totally in THE DREAM. True now as it was then, living in Mexico I can see that THE DREAM has wonderful gifts. The lesson is to be grateful under all circumstances, not discriminate, and see that each experience is woven into all other experiences creating the fabric of existence called life.

Returning to the sea of life

Quotes from My Fairy-Tale Life, spanning years:

Life cannot be held, only experienced. To try and hold it is when we realize it is but a dream. - December 06, 2015

I shook off notions of nationality, race, wealth—all the usual prejudices that are obstacles to oneness. The more I let go, the more I realized the world is phenomenal, fluid—and ever shifting sands. -April 08, 2018

My mind shifted from analysis and planning to complete acceptance of the moment. I began having total trust in what was being presented to me, seeing the gift of life everywhere and in everything. Opportunities arose and I had no fear because I did not live with feelings of opposition or separateness. My surroundings and I were one, and as events unfolded and I met people, the experiences were more profound because I was open to them—even expecting them. Events and consciousness seemed continuous and woven together, full of wonder and surprise—as if in a dream. I was the dreamer bearing witness. 

Thoughts and emotions are not permanent. I have been looking to a higher reality to gain perspective—to find immutable truth. Everything depends on it or else falls apart. My life has come undone so I have been ardently going to the place of truth, longing only to stay in that sacred temple. The more I am there, the more I see that THE DREAM is not only the fleeting occurrences all around me, but the terrain of my mind as well. Truth is independent of mind, beyond time and space. I am not talking about relative truth but rather the absolute: God, the uncreated Creator Who dwells in all, and is first recognized by our souls. - April 05, 2015

THE DREAM, to me, is a function of consciousness and interpretation of perceptions. I prefer not to interpret and judge my experiences but rather live them entirely as to “know” them. THE DREAM goes before me and I trust it because it is myself, in dialogue with God. -November 21, 2009

Dar Timitar, El Kelaa M'gouna, Morocco

“We must give up the life we had planned in order to accept the one that is waiting for us.” -Joseph Campbell

For more: THE DREAM writing

¡Viva! Art On The Streets

 

Amy and I are artists who spend time together creating art in our wonderful home in a village outside of Oaxaca, Mexico. We go to the city at least three days a week and feel excitement. I always make a new discovery and am surprised by something I have not seen before. Much of it is art on the streets. 

The street art is awesome and mysterious because we assume it is done for free by artists who create masterpieces.

My daughter Sarah during a visit

One group, called Subterreneos, is a collective of artists. They have their own atelier and make woodblock prints, sometimes on a massive scale. Much of the work is of somewhat political nature, making social justice statements. The prints are for sale, but often also are printed on special papers that are then glued with a wheat paste substance on walls around the city. I have seen fantastic works. They deteriorate naturally, but are replaced with something new, often  in a different location. 

Mural being created by the group Subterreneos for a local food market

Artist working on mural

Native culture, heritage, tradition and “raíces,” or roots, all run deep in Oaxaca. Travel and Leisure Magazine has awarded Oaxaca first place in its annual best cities in the world issue⏤more than once. Amy and I chose to live here after an initial visit. We felt a definite allure. When we found our dream house at a price we could not resist, we made the move. It was like holding hands and jumping into the unknown, but trusting something bigger.

We live outside of the big city in a growing community called San Pedro Ixtlahuaca. Not much around but cornfields and rolling hills, but it has a town center with businesses and is not far from a hugely important Mexican archeological site called Monte Alban.

Oaxaca and its charms are all close by.

More about Oaxacan street art

To Paint A Dream

 

Since moving to our little village outside Oaxaca, Mexico, Amy and I have have been strongly influenced by our new culture. From our second floor studio in our home, we have been slowly but steadily producing “las pinturas con una diferencia.”  At some point we hope to mount a public show together.  Our styles and subjects are different enough to make it quite interesting.

Amy has completed a new work from our studio, called, Into the Mystic, acrylic on board, 24"x39".  She says:

"Xoloitzcuintle or xolo dogs are revered in Mexico since ancient times for their profound, otherworldly abilities. They are uniquely hairless and are considered to possess healing abilities, as well as guides for their Master on his/her journey to the spirit world. I decided to paint a dream I had of the end of the fifth sun, when the old paradigm departs and the sixth sun commences. In my painting, the xolos challenge Quetzalcoatl. The humans are in partnership with the xolos⏤conjuring the New Day. The female xolo with her newborn pups represent the coming of the sixth sun. We see the phases of the moon…the passage of time.
My true hope is to have a xolo. But for now, I can only visualize them as part of my world."

Bloom Where You Are Planted

Amy and I moved to our house in the village of San Pedro Ixtlahuaca 331 days ago. It is on the outskirts of Oaxaca, the famous city in southern Mexico. We love our home and agree it is the best we have ever lived in. Built by a Mexican architect and his German agronomist wife, money was not an object and great love was poured into it from the beginning. It has survived two earthquakes with barely a crack or dislodged clay roof tile. 

We are Americans in Mexico with permanent resident status. Amy read somewhere that the first year living in Mexico is the most difficult. Certainly it was shocking at first, and even now, there are some aspects we don’t like. The change has been more difficult for Amy. I don’t exactly know why, but I have adjusted from the start⏤even though Amy is much better at speaking Spanish. It is probably because I have reinvented myself so many times in life. I have been around the world twice, lived in many poor countries, been a homeless wanderer, and lost my oldest daughter to cancer at age nineteen in 1999.  I learned this life is THE DREAM, and we do not control it. It is phenomenal, surprising, sparkling, terrible, dark, light filled, wonderful and dramatic. It is best not to resist, but rather be in it totally and observe intently.

It is evident Mexico is poorer than the USA. We live amidst poverty here. A preponderance of streets are broken and dirty, maimed dogs wander around aimlessly, most people do not have cars and rely on little “moto taxis”. Homes are nothing more than concrete block walls or tin shacks. We live in grandiosity compared to our neighbors. 

Yet good values can be seen in the way love exists in families. Often people can be seen walking hand in hand. There is plenty of laughter, music, and occasions for celebration. Mexicans love festivities and participate whole heartedly.

The cost of food is about 1/4th what the USA charges. It is good and fresh year round. Oaxaca has fabulous restaurants. Archeological sites abound and indigenous cultures have deep historical roots going back millenniums. The climate here stays comfortable year around. There are two seasons; dry and wet. Our home is made of adobe and has neither heating or cooling systems. It stays comfortable all the time.

During my hippie days in the 60´s I read a slogan painted on a wall, something from the flower child revolution: “Bloom where you are planted.”

DreamCarver

Book making is a wondrous and beautiful process. The best efforts are preserved for eternity, but most fall into oblivion. The book Amy and I are working on, called DreamCarver, has already proven to be an enduring work of art. It was first published in 1993 and became a traveling opera, visiting cities across America.

Diana Cohn and Amy collaborated on it. Publishers Weekly wrote: “Inspired by the life of renowned Oaxacan woodcarver Manuel Jiménez, newcomer Cohn and Córdova (My Land Sings) tell of Mateo, a young woodcarver who bravely breaks with a generations-old artistic tradition. The subsistence farmers of the boy's village are known for their juguetes, tiny carvings of wooden animals "so small they could fit in the palm of a hand," carved by men and boys, and painted in fiesta-bright colors by women and girls. But Mateo dreams of carving life-size animals, with surfaces that tingle with vibrant, improbable colors and surreal patterns. "I see animals so big and bright that I will need to carve them with a machete!" he tells his disapproving father. When Mateo ultimately produces a glorious wooden menagerie—including a quetzal with majestic feathers—he wins over not only Papa, but the entire village, and a new way of carving is born. Cohn captures the boy's pursuit with straightforward eloquence, whether describing a child's heady experience of a fiesta or articulating the imaginative forces that set apart and drive a true artist. Córdova chronicles Mateo's artistic development in radiant, double-spread tableaux, setting off the text with festive decorative borders. She borrows the highly stylized characterizations and flattened perspectives typical of Mexican folk art, but she animates the compositions with big, bold shapes and electric, saturated colors. A fitting tribute to the energy and power of an artist's distinctive vision.” 

From our perfect vantage point in our home in Oaxaca, just a village away from Arrazola where the woodcarvers make the “alebrijes” magic animals carved of wood and decorated with complex designs in a riot of colors, we are remaking the book with new illustrations and bilingual text.

Amy said, “Back in 1992, my dear friend, Diana Cohn and I visited Oaxaca with the intent of creating a children's book about the origins of the fantastical, colorful alebrije carvings. We visited Manuel Jimenez , who is attributed with starting the entire movement. As a result of our love of the art form, we created the book Dream Carver, which was published by Chronicle Books, San Francisco. Since then , our agreement has expired and we requested the return of rights. 

Fast forward, rights granted ! Since then, I have spent the last many months reworking and creating new images, with the goal of enhancing those images and creating a bilingual edition. Diana and I have revised the text, so that the format of two languages is not compromised. Steve has spent hours photographing and doing incredible layouts of text and image. Pages now look breathtaking! I am still painting. A labor of love, for certain.”

The Dream Carver tradition is alive and thrives today. The original artist, Manuel Jimenez, now deceased, passed his tradition to his sons, and one of them, Isaias, continues with his family to produce marvelous works. He opened the DreamCarver Museum and had students create murals based on Amy’s illustrations. He is very eager for the book, originally in English, to be published as a bilingual.

Our goal is to have books in hand for a big celebration at the Museum during the Dia de Muertos festival November 1 and 2, 2021.

Immigrant

I am now an immigrant, along with Amy. We have “Residente Permanente” visas from Mexico. It all happened rather suddenly but a huge change is happening to us. 

During travels over the past 15 years occasionally a thought would come that I might move from the USA—to Italy, to Thailand, or Ecuador. Amy and I have been married three years and after a trip to Oaxaca I casually looked online at properties down there and found one that grabbed me from head to foot with a price tag that, compared to similar properties here in Santa Fe, was an absolute steal. (See: Mexican Home)
That was over a year ago. Now we own the home and property—outright. It is our dream home and 3 times as much space as we currently have. We can live there for about 1/4 the monthly cost we are currently spending, in a culturally rich region with pleasant climate and easy access back to the USA. Our realtor, John, (see Real Estate Oaxaca) said it is the nicest home he has sold. (Does he say that to all his clients?) His partner said it has "soul".
Further, I have found most of my income is coming from sales of my work online. Amy and I now have better studios, a wonderful home and can continue being creative—expanding into new venues as well. All the while sharing our work online worldwide. 

In order to qualify to move all our belongings into Mexico (one time) without hassles and taxes, and also get free medical and dental care, as well as easy access in and out of the country, we needed a special visa. To begin, we found the nearest Mexican consulate. It is located in Albuquerque, New Mexico, an hour drive south of Santa Fe. They informed us of the requirements to start the process:
• Fill the Application
• Copy of passport (NOT EXPIRED) and COPIES of all the pages that have any visas or stamps.
• 1 passport size photo
• Past 12 months of bank statements (checking’s/savings)
• Social security administration letter with monthly income if applicable
• Pension income letter if applicable
• Proof of purchased property in Mexico, Escrituras, if applicable
• Letter from the bank, stating NAME, ACCOUNT NUMBER/S, LENGTH OF THE TIME YOU HAVE BEEN BANKING WITH THEM (MUST BE IN A BANK LETTERHEAD & SIGNED BY A BANK OFFICIAL).
• Typed letter stating reason for wanting to obtain a temporary or permanent visa (MUST BE SIGNED BY YOU & 1 PAGE MINIMUM)

•Marriage certificate if applicable (ORIGINAL)            

  
Once our application was approved, our passports were given a special stamp. We were told that we had 30 days (from our first entry into Mexico) to obtain our official “green” cards. On January 31 we flew to Oaxaca and six days later returned to Santa Fe—new homeowners and with our residente permanente cards.

To end this story, let me say that lately, every evening, Amy and I have been watching a program called Finding Your Roots on the PBS website Thirteen; “Presented and written by Professor Henry Louis Gates Jr., this series journeys deep into the ancestry of a group of remarkable individuals and provides new understanding of personal identity and American history.”  I have gained an invaluable perspective on the varied diaspora of immigrants that have come to the “new land” of America since before it's beginning as an independent nation. The people that were not slaves, prisoners or indentured servants, came looking for a new start at a better life. They came to escape dire conditions in their homelands and would face any hardship to pursue a dream of renewal and fruition. Often they arrived with nothing, strangers in a strange land, and it is a miracle to see present day descendants of these people discovering their ancestors for the first time on the program.

Me and John

Now, I know firsthand what it is to be a “stranger in a strange land” and feel kinship with all the immigrants of every era. Without our realtor John who is an American fluent in Spanish and lived and worked in Mexico for 36 years, along with his Mexican partner Luis, Amy and I would have been completely lost. We both agree that the hurdles of bureaucracy in Mexico for us—with limited Spanish language capability,  and all the appointments, waiting, and lacking necessary knowledge to attain our goals would have left us feeling helpless. At one point I admitted that without John, I would have given up in exhaustion and walked away from the deposit I made on the house. 

The day before returning to Santa Fe we had breakfast with a young man who has a moving business. We found him honest, eager and straightforward. He is recommended by John, and soon will be coming to Santa Fe to get our goods to take to our new home in Oaxaca.

See: Steven Boone artwork

A Shooting Star

 

The mid wife looked up at me from where my newborn child lay and asked, “Do you want to cut the cord?” It was a special moment in the living room of our little house. The doctor stood nearby and my tired but happy wife lay on her back with the baby on her stomach.

Doctor, at birth of Naomi

Morning light streamed in the bank of windows nearby. I took the scissors offered me and cut the cord—separating mother and child. About a foot of cord stayed attached to my daughter’s navel. I hardly could take my eyes off her, marveling at her perfection. The day: January 11, 1980. 

Newborn

Tomorrow would be her 41st birthday. Naomi died when she was but nineteen.

There are countless mysteries in life, and most of them will not be unravelled. I will have many questions when I cross over to the other side to reunite with Naomi and my ancestors. Then, as I stand in the light of truth and divine love, understanding will be given.

Colored pencil drawing Naomi made hours after learning of her cancer

One mystery that haunts me is the dream I had when Naomi was 12. I woke up with a feeling of extreme sadness and dread and then wrote the details down. It was a marvelous dream in all respect—full of awesome symbols of power and beauty—yet in the end the death of a child occurred. I could not understand its importance and even went to a psychologist to unravel the meaning. I made a painting using its images. Then, when Naomi was diagnosed with terminal cancer at age 17, I thought about the dream again. 

I will carry this mystery with me until the end of my days.

In the dream, which occurs at dusk, after witnessing an amazing flock of birds fly by, I ask for a sign and it is given immediately—a shooting star racing through the evening atmosphere, fiery, fast and bright—just above barren winter tree tops. More events unfold, before the sudden surprise ending that left me gasping when I awoke.

And so too, Naomi’s life was short and bright, for especially in the two years of her struggle at the end, she incandescently shed light as her life burned up. 

I am filled with a wonderful sense of happiness. It is an indescribable sense of utmost freedom and joy. When I am in touch with it I just think, Oh, God, thank you for this beautiful body and life. I have learned how to use THANK YOU throughout everything.
  —Naomi, age 18

The book I wrote about Naomi is available in print and digital edition: A Heart Traced In Sand

A Mexican Home

It all seems a dream. About six months ago, I saw a Mexican home listed for sale online. It is on the outskirts of Oaxaca, Mexico. The pictures showed a house Amy and I loved. Furthermore, the price is about 1/4th the cost of a similar home in Santa Fe. We both feel the situation in America is getting too weird, and for the same amount of money, we could live much more lavishly somewhere else. 

Now we are in Oaxaca for a week. Our first visit was to see THE HOUSE. It is as described on the website. Three bedrooms, two studios, two bathrooms, chefs kitchen, plenty of nooks, crannies and storage, extensive grounds with exotic plants and drip irrigation . . . we feel it is for us. The house was built by a socially conscious German couple, who hired the same architect that designed for Lila Downs, a world famous Mexican-American singer who has a home in Oaxaca. When the owner's partner died, she returned to Germany and left the house with a caretaker. 

Amy and I both agree that love surrounds this place and is evident in the fabric of its life. The German woman worked passionately to help rural cooperatives get on their feet. An indigenous caretaker is in the house, and is from an agricultural collective a few hours away that grows coffee, vanilla beans and spices. 

The property is perfect for two artists. We need to make big adjustments to leave our home country but in the end it's worth it. The village is called San Pedro Ixtalahuaca—about 1/2 hour drive from Oaxaca. 

Nothing around but a church, school, and a few tiny shops. 

The house and land is ringing our bell. Now to decide.

(Note: Since writing this post, amy and I have bought the home and are preparing to move there.)

Tonight a Wind Will Come

A young man, Agostin, dreamed of discovering a new land. His thoughts so compelled him that he gathered his belongings, packed them into his sailboat and set out to sea. At last he was free, on his voyage of discovery. The broad, limitless ocean bolstered his ambitions and he felt certain to achieve great discoveries.

When night fell, he sailed under the starry heavens with a sliver of moon offering its beacon of light. After such an eventful and arduous beginning to his sojourn, Agostin tired and fixing his rudder to hold a straight course, bundled up, lay down and fell into a deep sleep.

The little boat sailed silently onward. Then, from the fathomless ocean came a wave that caught up the vessel and engulfed it, carrying it into timelessness. 

When Agostin woke he stood upon a broad shore, his boat resting high upon the sand. He had aged considerably and thought, surely I am an old man.

Gazing to his right and to his left, he grabbed his hat and through it in the air—thankful for his health and discovery. Then he set out walking. 

The land was rocky, with sparse shrubs and small trees. Occasionally he saw a butterfly, and a bird or two flew by. Soon Agostin came to a trail and began walking on it toward the western horizon. Reaching a hilltop he could see a village in the distance. As he followed the trail, a man with his wife and child appeared, coming toward him. They all held bundles and when they met, told Agostin not to go further. “There is a plague in that village! So many people dying . . . better if you turn around and go back to where you came from.”

Agostin knew he had to go forward, for this is where his fate took him. Soon, he came to the village walls, and knocked at the gate. The big door creaked open and young man stood gazing and asked “What do you want? Don’t you know strangers are not allowed here?” Agostin stood firm and said, “I have travelled from afar, I need somewhere to rest and eat. Perhaps I can help.” The young man, who looked feverish, said, “Go away old man!” and shut the gate. There was nothing to do but stand there. Agostin stood, praying to be shown a path forward, and also how to help the people. Suddenly the gate opened.  A girl looked intently into his eyes. Behind her was an old woman, her grey hair falling disheveled over her shoulders, gazing quizzically. The old woman spoke: “You came to me in my dream last night! The ancestors have sent you to help us. Come in!” 

From the moment Agostin stepped in the village , he could see clearly what had happened and what needed to be done. The streets were lined with poor dwellings. Further on, bodies were being loaded upon carts to be taken for burial. An eerie quiet permeated the air. Not an animal or even bird was to be seen. Above the hovels, stood a castle and gated homes. There too, bodies were being tossed upon death carts. 

Agostin saw in his minds eye a month of strong winds, carrying small particles of toxic red dust. He also saw how the kingdom had become lost, isolated, forgetting to thank the ancestors or make offerings to them. A drought had come—then the red winds.  

A crowd surrounded Agostin. “Tell us who you are!” shouted the young man who had opened the gate. Agostin knew the people had lost hope. “They must believe,” he thought. Grasping his cape with one hand, he twirled it over the ground. Lifting his arm and the cape, a blooming flower stood on the spot. Everyone gasped. Now with the villagers full attention, Agostin spoke:

“I have been sent by your ancestors, who take pity upon you. My voyage here has given me the vision to help you. Each home must have a shrine, to bring ancestor spirit back.”

The king and his court had now arrived. Waving his cloak again, an ancestor appeared beside Agostin, and spoke: “We have seen the misery that has come here. The earth became tired of your footsteps and nature has turned her bounty to dust as a warning. You must make a council from all the people. This council will be for the good of all, and call the Creator into its chamber during consultation. Men and women are to be considered equal, wealth to be share equitably, worship will commence and the good of all considered at all times.”

The ancestor looked directly at the king. At this, the king bowed and knelt with his knee to the ground. “I swear by my life, I shall be the instrument of your message. Thank you!”

The ancestor looked around him into every face, then said, “Tonight a wind will come and lift the scourge that has beset you. It is time to begin anew, remembering to give thanks and keep your hearts pure for the new days ahead.”

With that, the ancestor vanished . . . and so too did Agostin.