Coastline Pilot

“Chasing Down the Muse”

 

June 18, 2002

Catharine Cooper

 

 

“We remember a place not for just it’s beauty but for the way that beauty made us feel … the most special places are the ones that give texture to our dreams, that ground us, make us whole, remind us of what is real.”

–      Jill Fredston, Rowing to Latitude

 

 

Dark volcanic cliffs reach high into grey clouded skies marking the edges of La Montaña Sacrada (the Sacred Mountain).  Lacey fingers of jacarandas, flame trees, plumerias, bromeliads and orchids plummet down its face like gentle waterfalls.  Beyond the peaks, an expansive verdant valley spreads beyond Tepoztlan, a small city of 13,000, southwest of Mexico City.

 

“What do you think?” my friend, Mayte Sanchez, asks.  We sit in the midst of her construction site, a soon-to-be weekend retreat high on the side of the mountain. It takes a moment to find a thought.  The view is breathtaking.  I drift in a gaze that takes in miles and miles of green – and with enough imagination, the Pacific Ocean, 200 miles away.  Mayte, an art history professor at the University of Mexico, is building a dream home, along with 35 other artísanos – poets, painters, philosophers – even a puppeteer.  Drawn to the area because the magic it purportedly bears, she and her neighbors add depth to an already thriving creative culture.

 

Tepoztlan is scattered with retreats such as the one my friend is building, owned by creatives seeking refuge from the city.  Narrow cobblestone streets, restaurants with excellent cuisine, a thriving marketplace, and quaint shops, remind me of a smallish Santa Fe or even Laguna Beach.  Crowded on weekends with tourists.  Quiet mid-week with local residents.

 

“I think,” I respond, “that you are luckier than most.”  She smiles, a quiet acknowledgement that does not undermine the immense workload she has carried to make her dream a reality.  We sit on the edge of her porch.  Her eyes reflect the unique light and she radiates a fullness in her heart.  She has found a place that makes her ‘whole’ just outside her urban roots.

 

Crowded is an insufficient word to describe Mexico City.  We return from the country to join the estimated 25 million inhabitants in the crush of automobiles, metro and foot traffic.  Seeking solace, my son, Cooper (who lives in the city), Steve and I head for Chapultapec Park, with its open space, extraordinary archeological museum and grassy areas covered with children. 

 

A photo exhibit, “The Earth from Above,” lines the periphery of the park.  Yann Arthus-Bertrand, a French man, has taken over 3000 images from a helicopter, recording the imprint of man and nature upon the planet.  The images are stunning: the barrier reef in Australia, underwater sand dunes in Mali, camels in shadow crossing the Sahara.  The image of an abandoned city near Chernobyl – a spot made uninhabitable by man – stops us on the street.  In contrast to the extraordinary beauty of the earth, this photo eerily reminds us of our power to destroy that which supports and nurtures us. 

 

I watch as others pause at the image, and with the same discomfort, fall silent.  Without vigilance, consciousness and life supportive actions, we could lose it all.

 

“Is there really any difference between watching the boulevard and staring into the river?” My friend Jeffe writes as I struggle with re-entry after luxuriously hard days in the wilderness.  I ponder his question as I dodge traffic on Avenida Reforma.  No, this isn’t the river, and the vehicles are not foaming rapids.  

 

Jeffe makes light of my discomfort – he and I both know that – yes, there is a tremendous difference between experiences in the city and those in the wild.  Thankfully, in Laguna, we have surrounded ourselves by a greenbelt – a protective zone – that provides solace when the summer throng winds its way into our village. 

 

As I hike our locale this summer, I’ll think of Mayte’s Sacred Mountain, the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon and the plethora of wild places I’ve had the great fortune to call ‘home.’  And I’ll remind myself to consciously and doggedly take steps to insure protection of that wilderness, so that those who follow my footsteps will never know that I was there.

 

--xx--

 

Catharine Cooper is a locale designer, photographer and writer who thrives on off beaten trails.  She can be reached at ccooper@cooperdesign.net or 949 497 5081.