Vagablond Journeys

"You are strong" the Mayan man deduces, his moon-shaped face filling the gap between the kitchen sink and myself. "Mmm" I respond, preventing a torrent of toothpaste gushing from my lips like tepid, white lava. "Very strong; I can see you."

Pajtoshli is a small, delicate man with a big, powerful gift. Meaning ‘rabbit healer’ in Mayan, he sits politely in the camp kitchen of our Mexican paradise. As he talks his face twitches, seizing his quivering cheek hostage for a second and curling his lip into an involuntary snarl. His chocolate, glossy curls bounce as his eyes roll skyward and his lashes flicker like erratic butterflies. I move toward a seat; he’s added another to his audience.

"I was in a psychiatric facility, numbed by medications to make the visions stop. I liked the pills; it was so calm, so nice," the husband and father of three pauses to roll a cigarette. His gesticulation is languid despite trembling hands that lift the fragile, crisp cylinder to his lips. We ask how he left the facility. "Taxpayers pay for the hospital. It was too much money for me to stay long time. One day, they came and told me to go." I notice his gloomy expression and question this bizarre attitude to the concept of freedom. "You do not understand what is like for me. I see good and bad. I can never turn it off. It is too much. I cannot be vegetarian; when my system is clean it is like staring at the sun." He raises his hand, squinting his eyes as if re-living the pain. "I need to be eating meat and smoking." The table falls silent, contemplating how his gift is his prison. Between puffs of smoke he explains he is in Tulum because a friend wants to know what he sees for him. Pajtoshli accepts his life’s purpose is to help those needing guidance.

My immediate reaction is to 'reserve a session'. I draw an enthusiastic breath to express this, but it catches as I consider the softly spoken man in front of me. I see in his eyes a sadness not entirely concealed by determination. "If he is meant to talk to you, he will. Don’t push, it’s not all about you." I scold myself, embarrassed by my ego. I rise from the table to grab my toothbrush and head to the sink.

"You are strong" Pajtoshli states. His eyes no longer appear resigned but twinkle with knowledge I suddenly need to learn. My toothbrush in hand, we move to a private spot beside a tree. As the minty foam slowly dissolves in my mouth, so too do any doubts of who this man is or that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.