I saw this young Mayan shaman in Tulum, Mexico, joining his friends for a few moments as dusk fell and the band played. Like any teenager, he hung out with his friends. I observed him, his parrot feathers making him beautiful, his bow and arrow making him seem powerful and dangerous to me. I observed him so briefly. He felt my eyes perhaps and he literally disappeared as I tried to keep him in view. Maybe he merged with the crowd or slipped into the night. The way I saw it, he vanished.
I think of him often-here in my suburban home, my cul-de-sac. Yes, I honor wildness in my gardens. It is represented as a house cat could be said to represent a jaguar. But I know there is knowledge and ways of being that I will never touch. There are landscapes more seductive than a lover. And so I draw, I paint. It is my way of extending my hand into the unknown. It is my call – and I wait.