Wounded Heart

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The Wounded Heart
A novel by
Nancy Joy Hefron

Table of Contents

Dedication
Acknowledgements
Introduction: The Dream

Part I: Coming Undone

Chapter 1: Waking Up
Chatper 2: The Faces of Anger
Chapter 3: Sweet Grief
Chapter 4: Shame on Me
Chapter 5: Letting Go
Chapter 6: Guilt's Lesson
Chapter 7: Leaving

Part II: Healing

Chapter 8: The Port of Adventure
Chapter 9: Dolphin Dreams
Chapter 10: Mayan Magic
Chapter 11: The Arrival
Chapter 12: Rebirth
Chapter 13: The Warning
Chapter 14: The Eye of the Storm
Chapter 15: The Key

Epilogue

The Wounded Heart
A novel by
Nancy Joy Hefron
Edited by Marie Hunt
Copyright © 2006 by Nancy Joy Hefron
Published and distributed by F.E.P. International, Inc.
www.fepint.org
http://www.fepint.org/wounded-heart/

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Printed in the United States of America.

For information write F.E.P. International, Inc.

941 25th Avenue, #101
Coralville, IA 52241
ISBN 0-9769689-3-2

Typesetting by Patricia Duffel
Cover Design by Daniel Hunt, www.sidekick-design.com

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Within my own heart
I bring compassion to all duality I encounter,
In myself, with others and everywhere.
I trust myself.
I invite that which threatens or frightens me
To show me myself
So that I may create a new reality.
Compassion embraces me.
I live with my eyes, ears and heart open.
I am constantly creating myself
As I have always intended to be.

Thank you,
Nancy Joy Hefron
September 18, 2005

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tend to make a religion out of them, which only strengthens their imprisonment. My intention is for everyone who reads The Wounded Heart to find wisdom in the adventure and tools to help them along their way. I ask that they will integrate the wisdom offered here and always continue to open new doorways. And I ask that the doorways never end as we expand and become more ourselves.

I am already creating my next doorway. I am discovering the value of the dark, and my next novel is being created from my experiences before this one is even out the door. And that is as it should be.

I leave you with this prayer that was given to me last year during a particularly difficult time in my personal life. May we all learn to take ownership of our pain and pull the arrows from our wounded hearts.

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EVERY READER WANTS the ending to the story. After all, each of you were drawn to Rose’s experiences and insights. For weeks after completing the basic story, I searched for the perfect ending. For days on end I asked, prayed, and meditated. I wrote four different endings but ultimately chose none of them because the journey to compassion is a never-ending story. Perhaps Chris died trying to reach Rose. Perhaps he showed up, and soon, she realized they had completed their journey together. Perhaps he remained missing. Or perhaps, as we would all hope, they were reunited and lived happily ever after. But the only happily ever after is your own creation. Compassion is the frequency that tunes you into what’s real. It is a doorway we are all seeking.

The real truth is the journey into your heart. Deeper and deeper you travel, unraveling your own mysteries, because the real story is you. It is about who you become with each new experience. This is what I know: each character in this story is actually a part of myself. Just like all the residents of the Caribbean coast of the Yucatan, we have a chance to create a new reality and new patterns every moment. Some of us will rebuild the same traps over and over again, in which we feel stuck. Others will dare to risk and create new expanded selves through conscious compassion.

Over the past fifteen years, I have been led on a journey into the gift of emotions. I wanted to share what I have learned with as many people as possible. I have always had an aversion to self-help books and systems of discovery, because, although they can be helpful, people

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journey. They are the breadcrumbs we created to show us the way back to compassion, the way back home.

As I swam to the shore, I was filled with a radiant excitement, knowing that everything was unfolding exactly as it should be. In the midst of the destruction and fear ran the river of truth, taking us all back to the source: ourselves. We had to come apart, again and again, to realize we were separate. I knew that I was ready to create a new reality and share my journey with all who had ears to hear, eyes to see, and open hearts to feel their way through with me. I knew I had so much more to learn, and yet, I already knew the answers. The journey to the doorway of conscious compassion takes you to the person you already are.

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completely fragmented, forgetting my true reality. I felt abandoned, alone and very frightened. I stood in this dark space feeling so empty and alone, and then, over time, I began to take a step. I became conscious of my thoughts and feelings and a world was created around me. My creations and lifetimes spun around me at a furious rate. It was like being at the Imax and having the images speed so quickly that they become a blurred light. I began to get dizzy, and then the dream slowed down and stopped. I remembered the merry-go-round of my dream past. I knew I was finding myself in it all. I opened my eyes and returned to the cenote, finding it just as I left it moments before.

All my creations have value as I respond to them through feelings, patterns and thoughts. I understood that when Ezekiel had spoken to my heart just days before, the storm was explaining its value. I saw that every life that felt devastated and destroyed now had a rare opportunity to create a new life. This new life would either take them back into their old, fearful wounds and patterns, just like the people in my original dream, or they would choose to take responsibility for their lives and create something more harmonious and fulfilling. By facing my fear, I had the same opportunity. I saw ancient wisdom awakening in me. It was as if I had downloaded a new computer program. I was ready to experiment and learn a new, more expanded version of consciousness, filled with more opportunity than I ever dreamed possible. The soul agreements, the roles, the lessons of self, the acceptance – these are the gifts that truly bring us home. These are the steps to conscious compassion, and I now knew what was missing: the emotions. They are the key that opens the door. They are the only energy source that can guide you through the steps and fuel your

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pools in the caverns of the limestone. These where called “cenotes.”

I swam upwards, breaking through the glass surface toward the light, and rolled over and floated on my back. I closed my eyes, enjoying myself and feeling the sun on my face. The sun language created a dance of aqua and orange geometric shapes, floating around like amoebas under a microscope. Relaxing for the first time in days and allowing the sun language to entertain me, I fell into a sacred space of my own. I imagined that I was being baptized from the fury of the storm into a new life, one that I would create from a new understanding of conscious compassion. This fear I had been dancing with since the storm abated was the fear of creating a new life without Chris. But going even deeper than that, my core fear was one of abandonment. My father had left when I was a small child; Ron had deserted me emotionally, and now I was faced with the loss of Chris, my biggest supporter. I understood that the true source of this river of emotions was my feeling of having abandoned myself. Just as the Mayans didn’t know the source of the water in which I floated, perhaps I did not know the source of my fear. I floated among the people in the ancient and sacred waters, cleansing my emotions and my physical body and filling my spirit.

I drifted away to a time when I was just consciousness, without a body, completely connected to all of creation. I was part of everything, yet I was an individual spark of God. A call went out for individuated souls to become part of a grand experiment to expand consciousness … to expand all that was. I knew I would take that leap. In front of me appeared a ring of fire and I leaped through the ring into a physical body and a door slammed shut. I awakened in a world of duality,

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“So, Rose, this is great stuff on fear,” she said. “Who ever thought it could be helpful? That puts a new spin on it. Have you written more about these things in this journal? I have been fearful all my life, and so were my mother and my grandmother. Who would have thought we all could have created that to learn something about ourselves? Is this part of the Doorway to Compassion Rosa has been telling everyone about?

“Whew! That’s too many questions all at once,” I replied. “There are other journal entries on compassion and emotions. Feel free to read them. Then sometime when we have a moment to share, we can talk more about all of that. In the meantime, I am off to get clean and try to call Chris from the Omni’s satellite phone.”

“Thanks. I am just going to take a break and read some more of your journal while I have it,” Vivian said.

As I walked through the missing front door to the road, I heard Emily and Vivian chatting about my work. It was obvious the two had already done some deep sharing, and it was obvious that Emily was no longer ashamed of my work. I smiled as their voices faded into the background.
_________________________________

AS I WADED INTO THE crystal clear pool of cold water, I was joined by nearly fifty other hurricane refugees doing the same thing. As the brisk water chilled my skin, I dove under for a quick swim. Javier had explained to me that through the limestone foundation of ancient coral reefs on which the Yucatan rested ran clear, fresh rivers that came from deep beneath the earth. He claimed that no one knew the source of the clear water, but that his people considered these waters sacred. In some places, the rivers came above ground forming clear, deep

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“Lots, actually. You are welcome to read my journal if you’d like,” I answered, handing it to her open to my latest entry. “I am sure if you guys had heard anything from Chris you would have told me by now, but I am asking anyway. Just in case you forgot.”

“Nope, Mom,” Emily replied, “but I really am sure he is just fine. We are looking for food. Puerto is organizing a food disbursement center so we can all share until things start to clear up again. I am supposed to fly home this weekend to start summer school. Who knows if that will happen, but in the meantime, Vivian and I are concentrating on the relief and recovery efforts. Everything is certainly up in the air.”

“That’s great. You two look so clean and refreshed. Do you know of a working shower?” I asked.

“We visited the cenote across the highway this morning and cleaned up there,” Vivian explained as she sat down to read my journal. “From here, just turn left out of Xel Ha and follow the foot path next to the golf course. It takes you right out to the highway. Look for the bright blue billboard on the ground and turn in there. That billboard used to be the Agua Azul sign for the cenote.”

Checking the time, I decided I could go to the cenote and still be on time to meet Jorge for our phone appointment if I hustled. I climbed the hanging staircase and rummaged through what was dry and found a towel and some shampoo. I even grabbed my razor. I just needed to find some routine in this mess. A breeze blew through the broken windows along with an assortment of bugs. As I observed them, I wondered how they survived the storm and were back already to annoy me.

Heading down the stairs, I stopped to say good-bye to the girls, and Vivian stopped me.

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created fear, if not to bring you back into understanding? The choice is yours. The power to use the message of fear to assist you on your way is right in front of you.

I realized that my hand was cramping and that I had been writing so fast, I wasn’t even sure what I had written. This much I did know – I felt so much better.

Suddenly my physical needs transcended my emotional needs. The one thing I really wanted was a shower. I hadn’t had one for days. And, I was hungry.
___________________________

SOON I HAD FALLEN into a long, peaceful, dreamless sleep. This was so long over-due that when I heard voices close by, I awoke to find that the day was more than half over. Emily and Vivian were inside rummaging through the cabinets.

“Hey, you two!” I shouted as I rose from my chaise. I rubbed my stiffened joints and picked up my journal.

“Hi, Mom,” Emily responded. “We called all over when we got here. I was beginning to worry. When we woke and found you gone, I assumed you came back here. But then, when we couldn’t find you … well, you know.”

“Actually, I had a really bad night,” I told her. “I was so filled with fear and worry about Chris that I tossed and turned until I finally decided to give up and walk back here to journal. I was on a mission to understand the fear that was overwhelming me, and I finally fell asleep out front on that chaise.”

“Well, what did you discover about fear?” asked Vivian. “That would be good to know.”

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is so simple. Ask fear what it is trying to tell you. Even if no answers come immediately, the very act of accepting and integrating fear into your heart will shift that terrible feeling gripping you. Because you asked, the answer will come soon enough.

Fear is a gift of great magnitude. It is a beacon calling you to step into, not away from, the very thing you are afraid of. For example, say you have discovered a physical issue that is frightening you. Right away your ego will step in and use the fear you resist to lead you on a wild goose chase of obsessions and scenarios that are purely fictional. Here is your power point of consciousness. Instead, acknowledge the fear and step into it. Go into the physical symptom, explore it, talk to it, and seek professional help until you understand the value.

If there is a situation you are avoiding, open the door and step into that situation right now. You will find the seat of your power, and you will have used the energy of emotion and the frequency of fear to arrive there. Do not force yourself into a terrifying situation, however. Simply know that it would serve you to take a step into it and explore, just as you did with Emily months ago, Rose. It is a scary ride until you learn to swim into fear and allow its energy to uncover the hidden wound. Remember when you learned to swim - water was a frightening thing in which to be immersed until you learned to use its buoyancy to float.

There is nothing in creation to be feared, only to be understood. Why would Creator have

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understood fear from an expanded “me”, and then I continued.

Rose, it is time to build a new relationship with fear - one based on the value of fear as an emotional tool. This shift takes you from avoiding it to using it for understanding. Your pain brings fear out of the dark realms and into the light of your heart.

Most people find the emotion of fear very unpleasant. Fear is one of the two major frequencies of your emotional body. All the dark emotions you experience grow out of fear. It is the negative pole of love’s positive pole. All of your light emotions emanate from love. Remember, your emotional field is energy.

When you feel the emotion of fear filling you, know that you yourself created that energy to alert you to something hidden deep within that is wounded and seeks your attention. Rather than repeating your usual pattern of obsessing and allowing fear to defeat you, become conscious at this point, instead. This is your point of power to use the energy of fear constructively.

Cross your hands over your heart and breathe deeply. Breathe the energy of this emotion right into your heart. After fear begins to feel more balanced, it is time to step into its message. It is not time to take a sleeping pill, have a drink, call a friend, turn on your TV or create busy-ness. Do not try to close your eyes and deny your fear. Don’t even attempt to choose love instead. It is time to consciously say, “OK, fear. I feel you, hear you and breathe you into my heart so that I understand your message.” It

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back to my center, and tell myself that it was probably just difficult to get down here after the storm. I had to admit, though, that I felt disconnected and empty as my mind dragged me through scenarios of what my life would be like after Chris – if something had indeed happened to him.

This continued for quite some time, and the only thing I had managed to write in my journal was choose love, not fear. I had heard that so many times. Of course, as I sat there in so much fear, choosing love was not a realistic option. So then what? I began to write. I would figure it out later. It was better than continuing this mind-funk I was stuck in.

Fear is a subject debated far and wide in our world today. There is so much to be afraid of: terrorist, the failing economy, job loss, disease, accidents, death. The list goes on and on, depending on each person’s own personal belief system and circumstances. We all know fear. It is the hollow feeling in the pit of your stomach as you experience or think about certain things. It can feel as if fear has your heart in a vice grip. Fear can wake you up in the night and keep you tossing and turning, as you obsess and try to make it go away. Fear keeps you from your true potential. When we are feeling fear, we tend to give our power away to anyone who can make the feeling go away. We avoid, deny and resist this emotion. Spiritually, we have been taught to choose love over fear. It is not so easy when we are in its grip.

I paused and sat in silence for a moment. I felt my inner voice fill me and calmness prevailed. All at once I

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“You would think experiencing the actual hurricane would have been the greatest fear, but that seems easy compared to what we all face now,” Jorge responded.

Without thinking, I said, “That’s because this is emotional fear. Physical fear comes and then quickly goes. Emotional fear lives on in many ways, bringing up whatever is wounded in our hearts. I guess in that way, this is an opportunity.”

“That’s worth some thought, I suppose,” Jorge said. “Who can really understand fear, anyway? It just is,” Jorge rubbed his eyes, which were watering as he spoke, “Come back later today, Rose. I may be able to patch you through to someone on our satellite phone who can help you.”

Spontaneously, I through my arms around him, thanking him profusely. I didn’t feel so cut off and helpless anymore. Although this made him uncomfortable, he smiled and called me his “hurricane sister.” We agreed that I would stop back by around 4:00.
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BY THE TIME I made it back to Mariposa, the sun was actually shining again, for the first time since Sunday. The waves were still agitated, and the wreckage and debris seemed so incongruous to the aqua water, white sand and sun. I dragged one of the patio chairs down from upstairs and pulled it out onto the beach and sat there with my journal propped on my lap. As I surveyed the scene in front of me, including the remains of Los Spiritos, I wondered where Chris could be. Again, a huge lump formed in my gut, and a hollowness opened liked a cavern in my heart. My mind raced in fear as I began to imagine all the horrible things that could have happened. After each nightmarish thought, I would come

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weeks before electricity is restored. Many water mains were damaged, so there is not much running water available. They seem to be making progress on clearing the roads now, though. Most cell towers are down, so communications are mainly via emergency systems and satellite communications. This will be a long, slow road back to recovery – worse than Roxanne back in l995.”

“I am so sorry,” I said “I am only here for the summer, but I feel in my heart that this area will recover sooner than you may think. Have you heard anything about the Cancun Airport?”

“No, I am sorry,” he apologized. “Only places with emergency generators have power right now. I am not sure about the airport, but I know that will be a priority. After all, tourists are our business.” After a short silence he added, “And mine seems to be at a standstill. I am very afraid for my family and many families whose livelihood depends on tourists. And for many friends whose homes have been destroyed, as well as their jobs.”

“My heart goes out to you. My name is Rose,” I said. “I have been staying at Villas Xel Ha for the summer. Right now I am frightened, too. My husband is missing. He was on his way down here from the States and should have been here by now. Of course, there is no word and no way to find out what is happening.”

“Pleased to meet you, Rose,” he said. “My name is Jorge. I am so sorry to hear about your problem. There are so many problems for everyone here right now. Even though I know this too shall pass, it’s the passing that has me down.”

“Yes, fear is an interesting thing,” I said, still steeped in my own.

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still wearing the shorts and t-shirt I had slept in. “Oh, well,” I thought, “Hurricane clothes.”

Everything looked the same as it had the day before. It seemed as though not much progress had been made. I felt that most of the people must still be in shock and perhaps even suffering post-traumatic stress symptoms. Many of the local houses were in ruins, and as a tribute to excess, the opulent homes, hotels and condos were only damaged on the surface. Interesting, I thought, that so many people only show the surface damage of their beings while the deep and more revealing wounds are hidden from view.

As I cut through the Omni Hotel, I saw the manager, who had only yesterday been busily trying to put a dent in the wreckage surrounding him. Now he was cradling his head in his arms and listening to what sounded like an emergency radio station, in Spanish, of course.
“Hola,” I said, waving to him as I approached.

“I am so sorry, señora, but we are closed, and I have no way to assist you,” he said. Weariness was written all over him. His face was expressionless and dull and his body slumped, as if even holding it up was an effort.

“That’s fine,” I replied, gently reaching out and placing my hand on his shoulder. I was inspired to reach out, where normally I would never have done that, respecting his boundaries. Somehow Ezekiel had knocked down many of the walls and boundaries we all had in place. I felt his pain and my own and responded.

“I wondered what news you were hearing about the services being restored and about Cancun or the airport,” I told him.

“Well, the news seems all bad right now,” he said. “This hurricane approached a category four in intensity just before it hit us. They are saying it may be several

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house. How sad. You have to wonder why someone would take a risk like that. Was he alone?”

“No one knows for sure,” Rosa told us. “No one saw him leave. Last thing the harbormaster knew, he was still in a slip, waiting out the storm. He has a wife and three children. His wife has taken yoga with me for years. They are originally from Austin, Texas, but they have been spending summers down here for years, running the charter business. They built the boat themselves, and it was beautiful. It is so sad. And, even sadder yet, most of the homes and businesses in the Pueblo where the locals live are completely uninhabitable. This is a personal disaster for many without resources to begin with. The real death seems to be the loss of home and livelihood. The next few hours before we all fell into an exhausted slumber were spent sharing stories of Ezekiel. Vivian and Manuel stopped by, adding their pieces, and slowly the food and the energy disappeared completely. Rosa had wisely wrapped all her bedding in plastic so it was as dry as anything could possibly be, post-hurricane. After making our beds, we were gone to the world.

I would have loved a peaceful, dreamless sleep of healing and recuperation, but instead, I had very fearful dreams. I returned to the aqua sea and kept searching the deserted waters for Chris. I swam, dove and jumped, with my eyes scanning the horizon everywhere. The space where he should have been felt so empty, and I felt so disconnected and alone. It was a long and restless night for me, and I awoke with a splitting headache and a sick feeling in my gut. It was still very early, and everyone else was still asleep, so I decided to head back to Mariposa and retrieve my journal. I felt a great need to write, and perhaps, there would be answers for me there. Leaving a note, I silently moved out the door and down the steps,

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You can charge your phone there after we eat and rest for awhile,” Rosa said.

Feeling better after sharing, I realized how rude I had been. I hadn’t even asked Rosa how her friends had made out during the storm. “Is everything OK with your friends and the people in Puerto?” I asked.

“Nothing is OK, really, because everyone has experienced damage and loss, but as far as I know, there have been only two deaths,” Rosa answered.

“Two deaths!” shouted Emily. “How did they happen?”

“One was a young boy from the pueblo who snuck out of the community center during the storm to try to go home and rescue his dog, who had been left behind in the hurry to evacuate. His body was found under a collapsed cistern. His mother has worked for me from time to time. She is a single mom and has one other younger son,” Rosa said. “Of course, she is devastated, as are we all.

“And the other death was Phillip, who runs a sailboat charter for the tourists out of Puerto. He thought he could make it back into the harbor after having gone out against advisories. He missed the inlet and the wreckage of his boat was found on the rocks and strewn along the beach near the Omni Hotel. They haven’t actually found his body yet but chances are slim that he could have survived the storm.”

“Oh, my God,” cried Emily. “Was his boat named Los Spiritos?”

“Yes. Do you know Phillip?” Rosa asked.

“We don’t know the man but we are very familiar with the boat,” Emily said, staring at me.
“Yes, Rosa,” I said. “We just dragged a small part of the bow and broken mast of his boat out of our living room this morning. It’s now on the beach in front of our

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“No Chris, huh, Mom?” Emily asked, already knowing the answer.

“No Chris!” I sighed and put my head into my hands as I rubbed my eyes, which were heavy and tired.

“You know, Emily, I have no reason to be afraid that something has happened to Chris. He travels around the world experiencing all kinds of situations, and he is always just fine. If anything, he should be worried that something has happened to me,” I said. “Of course, I am sure he is.”

“Well, you know, Rose,” Rosa began, “There is no way he could possibly be here this soon after the hurricane. The power is out from Cancun to Tulum and as far inland as Merida. Many of the roads are still blocked with debris, and there are no cabs and probably no car rentals right now even if he had managed to land. Without electricity, how can the airport even be open? I am sure he is safe and sound and just as frustrated as you are.”

“Of course, you are right, and my head knows that, really. I don’t know why I feel so shaky. I wish the phone was working.”

“I heard that two of the cell towers have gone down along the coast, but I will bet that Cancun still has cell service. The brunt of the hurricane didn’t hit them. Perhaps their tower is OK,” Rosa suggested.

“Mom, it really doesn’t matter, because you can’t charge your battery,” Emily said.

“How about the car? I can charge it in Rosa’s car. Have you checked on your jeep, Rosa?” I asked.

“Yes, I checked it out immediately. It has some bad damage where a section of tile roof blew off our building and slammed through the windshield and damaged the roof, but I cleaned it up and, the good news is, it starts.

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AS I MOVED BACK into the present space and time, I felt renewed at a very deep level. The destruction around me hadn’t changed, and yet it looked hopeful. It had purpose within me now. I sat there in the damp night staring out at the garbage and staying with the space I had achieved. As I sat there, I realized that my dolphin friends were safe and had actually communicated with me in the vision. That felt good. Then, like a dam breaking, a flood of anxiety rocked my calm, and the emotional waters I had been riding the past seven months once again began to surge as Chris came into my mind and slammed, full force, into my heart. Fear – that’s what was grabbing me. I had no logical reason to be afraid, and yet I was.

I decided to walk back to Rosa’s and check on Emily and friends. We had all agreed that would be the gathering place. As I arrived, I was relieved to find that, while we had been cleaning up Mariposa, the tree had been removed from Rosa’s doorway and the patio had been cleaned up, too. I was exhausted and needed a good night’s sleep and some food. And yet, I felt I couldn’t leave the marina, the dolphin sanctuary, or Rosa’s, where Chris and I had agreed to meet.

Emily and Rosa were busy cleaning and mopping, and they both looked so tired and weary. They had food out on the counter, and they were ready to sit still and share their stories with me.

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glass was fixed, and the foliage more colorful and full. I noticed immediately that the sliding door facing the ocean had a beautiful red heart etched in the glass, right where Emily had drawn hers. I realized that we had spiraled into the future so I could see, first hand, the expanded beauty that had been created from the chaos of Ezekiel.

“You see,” I heard my inner voices saying. “This is the compassion of Mother Nature: the soul agreement between earth and her creatures. Many changed forms as great pressure brought darkness and chaos to expose old wounds and places where people were not in their hearts. After all, that’s what life really does, doesn’t it? Its painful passages expose the wounds, and with time, they heal to become more whole, more powerful than before.”

I could feel my words inside me, and I felt so uplifted. The doorway to compassion did come through the willingness to experience the journey, and the gift was that you became so much more than you were before. I began to understand that the darkness and the light had value and our true job on earth was to heal the separation within ourselves.

We have all created a reality that mirrors back to us our pain so we can see it and find ourselves once again. I knew this in every cell of my body. I felt the truth vibrating within me. Then my little girl squeezed my hand in recognition of my wisdom. The loving energy enlarged me, and I clearly saw the depth of the hurricane’s destruction as it moved into my heart. And as I breathed out, I saw the resurrection that had occurred. There was a point to life. There was a purpose.

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I scooted down off the post and lay down with my head against the beam and lazily drifted away from my aching body and the chaos surrounding me. I floated, and returned to the beautiful sunlit turquoise waters that drew me here in the first place. I let go and allowed the sun and water to embrace me and love me. Slowly, I was becoming euphoric. I expanded, until I could no longer tell if I was the water, the sky or myself. An amazing feeling of oneness touched every cell of my being. It seemed as if there was nothing hidden from me at all. I spun out of my body and looked back at myself floating on the sea and soon my angel and my little girl were once again with me. They each took a hand and we began to fly. I looked below and saw Estrella and Sol leaping and playing with other dolphins. They were connecting with me, and soon, I saw the baby, safe and sound by her mother’s side, protected within her pod. I knew in my heart that her name was Ezekiella (Ella), named for the storm in which she was born and the gift of freedom it gave her family.

Suddenly we began to spiral, and I could see nothing at all but bright light, blinding me as I moved through space. Eventually, the sensation slowed and cleared, and I saw Puerto from very high above. We were so high I could see Cancun and even Tulum. Gently we fell closer and closer to earth until I could finally see the amazing beauty of the Yucatan I had grown to love. It was lush and even more spectacular than I remembered. As I zeroed in on Puerto, I caught a glimpse of the Xel Ha complex. It was expanded up the beach, and there were waterfalls and a cenote that was now integrated into its landscape.

The beach was once again clean and beautiful, but a bit narrower than before. And Mariposa was all repaired, and a new butterfly flag waved at her entrance. All the

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would magically appear, I rubbed my sore muscles. My arms and lower back were stiffening up from all the physical labor I had put in. I ached even more as I thought of some of the big boulders we were able to roll and move with a simple wedge. Most of them were now back out on the beach. Even the ill-fated Los Spiritos was no longer gracing Mariposa’s great room. By placing much of the contents in the far back master closet upstairs with Rafino the morning before, we realized that we had saved a great deal more than we had remembered. By the time we quit, we had even put the somewhat dry mattress and bedding back on its perch in preparation for us remaining there, if at all possible. After all, to us it was home.

Beyond my physical aches and pains, I was emotionally drained and just wanted to reconnect, especially with Chris. I found it disturbing not to know where he was or if he was even in the Yucatan yet, let alone making his way down the coast to Puerto. I remembered my dream during the storm, in which I was searching for something I couldn’t find, and I wondered if it was Chris or part of myself.

I began to hum absent-mindedly and drifted away from the still, garbage-laden waters of the dolphin’s captive home. I noticed that the rope enclosures were down and floating uselessly, tangled and caught on pieces of fencing and marina moors and posts. I wondered if the dolphins were free once again. I hoped so, and yet, at the same time, I realized that if they had never been captured and trained to engage with humans, I would never have had the experiences with them that I did. Perhaps they, too, had soul agreements, and some of them agreed to come and teach us. I silently thanked them for being willing to play that part so many more humans could grow.

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Sighing, Emily looked over at me and said, “What next? I can’t imagine that anything we could possible do here would matter or even make a dent in this mess.”

“I know what you mean. I guess this is one experience for which I have no benchmark in my life. Part of me wants to pack what’s left of our things and head back to Iowa, but in my heart, I know we are needed right here. Anyway,” I conjectured, “I would imagine that the roads are impassable and transportation at a standstill.”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than my stomach lurched as I thought about Chris. It was Monday and he was going to try to get down here as soon as he could. I checked my cell phone again and still had no signal. Turning it off to save the battery, I checked the time. It was almost noon already. I made up my mind to head back to the marina before sunset and check at the dolphin enclosure for both Chris and Estrella and her family.

Emily and I decided that we would pile everything that was ruined beyond repair out front and sweep up as much broken glass as we could. Both of us were getting hungry and realized that the cooler of food was still at Rosa’s. Scrambling around in the kitchen ruins, Emily came up with a canister of dry cereal and some juice boxes. I found some canned goods and together we whipped up a survival meal. This would prove to be our first of many to come.
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AS IT TURNED OUT, the rest of the day flew by as we cleaned, cleared and mopped. Although we didn’t put a dent in the severe damage, we did a great job at beginning the clean up. As I sat alone on my post looking out over the marina and hoping that Estrella, Sol or Chris

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mud flowed outward, creating a strange pattern as it drained from the cracked pot. I wondered what the upstairs looked like.

“Let’s check out the upstairs,” I suggested.

“I don’t know, Mom. Do you think it’s safe?” Emily asked.

The spiral wrought-iron staircase hung from its upper support. The force of the storm had ripped the bottom bolts from the floor where it was anchored.

“Well, let’s give it a try. One of us can hold the bottom while the other climbs up. We’ll just go slowly and get a feel for it. If the top supports are OK, it should work,” I said.

“That sounds like it may work. How about I climb and you hold? After all, I have you by a few pounds,” Emily said, laughing.

As I held fast to the bottom of the staircase, Emily stepped over me and began her ascent. Turning halfway up, she looked back and said, “I can’t see how we are ever going to get this mess cleaned up. I am almost afraid to look.”

But she soon disappeared above, and I decided to let go of the bottom stair and began to climb myself. I was sure the staircase wasn’t going anywhere. As I joined Emily, standing in the place where the deck once stood, I saw an empty space where the sliding glass door had been blown away. Now, looking at nothing but air, I felt a little sad. My special retreat by the sea had been devastated.

The upstairs was blown apart and wet with rain, but at least there were no boulders, seawater, seaweed or dead fish hanging around. After exploring, we sat together on the edge of the bed frame, which was actually a poured cement slab on which the mattresses were once supported.