Home allows me to feel. I am enough.

I first became entranced by The Legend of Popocatépetl and Iztaccíhuatl when fixing my impressionable adolescent mind on the sexy image of a fainting princess in the arms of her hunky warrior lover. The princess proved to be dead of broken heart illness, which quite irked me at the time.

Something about the stories of the people of this place and their floating garden city, golden stepped monuments, and ritual sacrifice seized my small soul. I sensed I would find a bit of home in this unknown place.

Two decades later, of all the places to stay in Tenochtitlan, I camped right at the foothills of the montana and volcan that inspired this love story in the first place. I did not realize this till the seventh day when I was finally able to venture to the market place of Amecameca, where the images from the book of long ago were reproduced in convenient take-home illustrations. 481159_10100713823942891_180838489_n I had long-forgotten their Nahuatl names. I was later informed that this place is considered the navel of the world; thus, bringing full circle my childhood intuition that it would be here I would feel at home.


A reflection gathering first thoughts arriving in Amecameca for a retreat my friends organized. That very first day I wrote this poem. This poem is dedicated to those friends.

 Mi recuerda mi casa



To go walk in fields

Sit facing the sun


Eyes closed


And to open those eyes

To home


There cannot be a more affirming feeling


To work steady with joy



And home offers just those delights

I no longer take for granted

Nor wish to


Ive been searching my whole life


Am I enough?


To hear the rustle in the wind

A bug crash into a flower


The mountains are benevolent



People are playing and conversing

We could be lazy

But there is nothing lazy here




In every kind word

In every gesture

No reproach


I who have been paralyzed for too long


Am I enough?


I will be moved


I will too move


I will move toward these gentle folk


Nestled amongst the foothills

Amongst stirring trees


My mood is turning to one of fullness

One of joy


As I wish to always be

I sit with my belly relaxed

All tightness gone




Like a teasing butterfly

A smile present at my mouth


This is home


I am enough.



I perform it here with Caroline Charbonneau:

from wiki: In Aztec mythology, Iztaccíhuatl was a princess who fell in love with one of her father’s warriors, Popocatépetl. The emperor sent Popocatépetl to war in Oaxaca, promising him Iztaccíhuatl as his wife when he returned (which Iztaccíhuatl’s father presumed he would not). Iztaccíhuatl was falsely told Popocatépetl had died in battle, and believing the news, she died of grief. When Popocatépetl returned to find his love dead, he took her body to a spot outside Tenochtitlan and kneeled by her grave. The gods covered them with snow and changed them into mountains. Iztaccíhuatl’s mountain is called “White Woman” (from the nahuatl iztac “white” and cihuatl “woman”) because it resembles a woman lying on her back, and is often covered with snow. (The peak is sometimes nicknamed La Mujer Dormida (“The Sleeping Woman”).) Popocatépetl became an active volcano, raining fire on Earth in blind rage at the loss of his beloved.