I am grateful for so many things, one of which was the recent privilege of experiencing an incredible opportunity that most will never know—a trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, where, once again, I have grown as a human being.

I’m grateful for getting to witness a severe rainstorm in Cabo; the loudest thunder and lightning I think I have ever heard; the force of the water creating raging rivers out of ordinary streets and washing away entire cars. I’m grateful for the humility this taught me.

I’m grateful for getting to witness the ocean—her majesty, her beauty and her insistence of respect for the sheer power and magnitude of the giant waves crashing on the beach like twenty locomotives roaring along on the tracks. This reinforced in me, my smallness, yet my attachment to something that is so much greater than I.

I’m grateful for bearing witness to the splendor of the rocks of Land’s End. After not having seen it for several years, I was awestruck all over again, at her magical and mystical beauty that seems surreal—like a human-made sculpture or a painting rising proudly out of the sea and overwhelming me, encouraging me like a loving mother, to pick up my pen and write again because that is respite and freedom for my soul.

I am grateful for our friends who invited us to spend an entire day at their home in Cabo—a home with an entire wall of windows that slid open across the whole room—to a patio with overstuffed outdoor furniture, a fire pit, hot tub, infinity pool with its own swim-up bar, and an outdoor gas grille, overlooking the turquoise waters of the Sea of Cortez. The interior of the house was like nothing I have ever seen—heavy wooden furniture, a large kitchen with an island made of more dark wood and granite countertops—three huge bedrooms, two of which had sliding doors to the backyard overlooking the ocean. And all of it in traditional Mexican style, summoning images in my mind of long-forgotten conquistadores and beautiful dark-skinned señoritas with flaming red lips and brightly-colored flowing skirts. I felt like a celebrity there.

I’m grateful for the chance to lounge in the hot, hot sun by the pool at our hotel, to float in “my” lagoon, to enjoy too many gloriously yummy chocolate pan dulces (sweet breads), too many plates of delicious thick tortilla chips and creamy guacamole, sweet Miami Vices (half strawberry daiquiri and half piña colada) and wonderful bananas, pineapples and grapefruits.

To have gotten what, to me, was one of the best rooms the small hotel has to offer—not because it really is the best room, but because, to me, it is—with a large patio for sunbathing each morning, my body soaking in the healing golden sun of Mexico, while enjoying an unobstructed view of Land’s End (if there are no cruise ships blocking the view).

I’m grateful for the friends I have, most of whom I was unable to hook up with or was only able to see for a few moments because I arrived there much later than most of them and they already had plans in place. Still—seeing their beautiful faces, looking into their beautiful eyes, and getting long-overdue hugs, meant everything to me. These are people for whom I would do anything and vice versa. And people I would never have met if it hadn’t been for Sammy Hagar.

I am grateful to Sammy and his music, and for the opportunity to attend one of his shows while I was there because he changed my life years ago; he encouraged me to pursue my dream of being a writer and to never give up.

I am grateful to those who purchased a copy of my book “Dance of the Electric Hummingbird” because it has been a labor of love, one that Sammy once called, “your baby,” because he gets it. The book is now out of print, except for a few remaining copies,* so the ones I have in boxes in my basement, are all that I have left of the dream that I wanted so badly to share with others. There is a piece of one’s soul that goes into creating art—all the time, energy, personal pain and joy, money, etc. Most artists don’t make enough money to support themselves on the sale of their art—we do it because we must; there is no conscious choice in the matter, so when someone purchases your art, it connects creator and observer together on a soul level, and that has value far beyond monetary.

My visit to Cabo went by much too fast, just as my life is going by much too fast. But the older I get, the more I appreciate all that I have and know–and each day, I strive even harder, to be at least a tiny speck of love and light to others.

As I returned home the other day, I attended a memorial service for a friend who was killed in a motorcycle accident a month ago. She was much too young—had everything to live for, and was one of the kindest, gentlest, most loving and giving people I have ever known.

And I realize that what I am most grateful for, is to have awoken this morning so that I may live another day, to hopefully get to experience another Thanksgiving and another Christmas with my family and friends, or even just to hang out on ordinary days, simply being with them and taking in all the beauty that surrounds me, in the small things, in places I’ve been and in the people I love because one thing I know for sure–love is all that matters. 

For these and for each new day, I am most grateful.

*ebook version still available here: Dance of the Electric Hummingbird

or signed by the author copies here: Author Signed Copy DEH