On the Road

I wanted to make sure that I caught the 6 AM  water taxi out of Puerto Jimenez on Thursday morning because Panama City was minimally 12 hours away, assuming that all connections were short and smooth.  My backpack seemed lighter every day, and it was a short walk from my hotel to the town pier, but as I approached, I noticed that the pier was already crowded with passengers and well-wishers waiting to see them off.  With no way to tell how many of each there were, I grew a bit anxious that my journey across the Golfo Dulce might be delayed for more than 4 1/2 hours until the next taxi´s departure.  My anxiety increased when a short, stocky man with a family of five pushed his way through to about mid-queue.

This, then, was one of those opportunities that Pema Chodron writes of.  He, the man with the family, was one of the Juans who pushes my buttons, so that I cry out in my mind about injustice, or I get angry and respond in a way that I regret, or I get sullen and stuff my odious feelings toward the Juans that push their way to the front of the world, disregarding everyone else´s well-being.  Ms. Chodron tells us that this taxi line    incident was creating a mirror for me to examine an aspect of myself that I have rejected long ago, a chance to make peace, an opportunity to be grateful to everyone, beginning with myself.

As soon as this realization formed, my self-talk changed.  I looked him up and down, thinking: ``He is protecting his family.  He is a good provider.  He has a sick child, or values the importance of education and wants to get his kids to school on time in Golfito, or is taking them for a family outing that has been promised for a while``. Other story lines came to mind, focusing on the positive aspects of the Juan who had unknowingly been pushing my butttons.  Because the buttons were definitely mine.  The buttons were on MY shirt, MY coat, MY skin, MY psyche.  I became grateful to Juan for the opportunity to take one small step to disconnect the button from the buzzer.  Shortly afterwards, I stepped onto the boat.

The water taxi driver was an accommodating man, so very few people were left on the dock.  I needn´t have worried.  Some 15-20 people got on after me.  In certain places along the boat, 3 people sat in seats designed for 2.  Several people stood in the center aisle.  One woman sat up front on the prow.  The taxi seemed overloaded.  I began to worry that with the Golfo running as choppy as it was that day, that there was indeed a chance for a serious accident.

 Are you beginning to catch a theme here?  Part of the reason that I`m writing this blog is to expose my inner workings to the people who are reading this, most of whom I assume are people whom I know and love.  One of my major quests on this journey to Central America is to reveal myself to you.

The other major quest is to make these small steps of self-forgiveness. I have been such a stress puppy all of my life, and my reactions under pressure are usually events that I regret later.  They are the ugly deeds that I want to hold to the mirror and forgive myself for so that I can move on.

So the taxi is overloaded, the gulf is choppy, and after getting up to full speed, the boat begins bouncing and side-slipping.  What are my options?  What can I control?  Can I call out: ``Turn the boat around!  Put me on the dock!  I`ll wait for the next one!``?  Good luck with that one.  Can I magically transform myself into a basilisk lizard and walk on water?  Oh, wait, I forgot.  They can only do that for about 10 meters before they have to start swimming.  So what can I do?  What can I control?  Only the limits of my awareness and appreciation.  I can expand my vision to the beauty of the gulf, the daylight on the water, the lush forests coming right down to water´s edge, the search for dolphins, the appreciation of conversation and laughter around me, the appreciation of life jackets above me.

Time is transformed.  No longer are the seconds like hours.  This is not to say that time disappears completely.  But it slips away and hides for much of the trip, finding some convenient hammock in the back to snooze in until it is needed.  We pass the point which protects Golfito´s bay from the winds and waves driven in from the Pacific, and the waters calm.

Minutes later, I step up to the dock and the beginning of the rest of my journey.