My greatest two experiences doing stand-up comedy in the 1970s both happened on evenings when I had zero material prepared. I winged it. (Wung it?) The results were cataclysmically delightful.
And that’s how I’ll begin this post. The heavy work was done in the making of the video. Preparing for it, booking it, shooting it, editing it, posting it. Today, all I have to do is put it out there (again) and respond to it in the moment.
San Miguel de Allende is a place where people come to be reborn. That’s what our host Julio posits in the video above. I know when I heard that, I felt moved. It rang true, even if I’d only been in town 3 days.
We shot this video in January of 2020, weeks before the Big Shutdown. I’ve returned to San Miguel in 2023, 2024 and 2025. Each visit has confirmed Julio’s rebirth statement. There’s a freedom I feel there. A kind of playfulness too. A lightness. (Oh, and the light! Artists absolutely love painting here in this light.)
To improvise, to play — that’s where a Higher Power takes over. I let go of trying to force outcomes, and I just let it rip. Yes, I have a loose plan. The plan is to post a few photos and write about them. Or, more accurately, write about me in response to them. I don’t know where it’s going to go. But I do trust that magic will result. The raw material I’m working with is divine.
I walked past this mural on Calzada de la Estación just east of the main bus terminal. In 2024, this was my regular route every day. It’s a major thoroughfare populated with many little stores and businesses. It’s not fancy. I enjoyed the hubbub of activity, the buzz of humanity. When people ask me how my time in Mexico was, I tell them how I felt a friendly presence with me wherever I was. A presence that was always on my side, invested in my well-being.
There it is again. The friendly presence. En masse. On the wire. As I walked through the neighborhood (Colonia) of Guadalupe in San Miguel de Allende.
It’s a great town for walking, though not for everyone. Cobblestones abound. Lots of hills. You gotta watch your step. Just don’t forget to look up from time to time.
Here’s my place in Colonia San Antonio. The place was not available last year. But in 2023 and 2025, I booked it and made it my home for nearly a month each time. I’ve always been enchanted by the indoor light as evening descends outside. Cozy, right?
Having a place you like to hang in is so important. I slept well here too. And morning quiet time was very relaxing, very supportive. Downstairs was the kitchen. I’d cook down there most nights. Sometimes pollo from the local rostizado, sometimes al pastor. Sometimes huevos or frijoles negros. The place had a double hot plate and a microwave. Plus a full-size fridge.
Tending to my meals was a daily series of acts of self-care. Self love, even. To feed myself, to take the time to eat healthy foods, to take action of disinfecting the produce by soaking it in water infused with special drops that kill bacteria, this too was self love. And humbling too. I had to slow down. I had to pay attention. I was not invulnerable to Montezuma’s Revenge. I was one of many who could have gotten sick, had I not taken precautions. So I took precautions because…well, because, I guess, I thought I was worth it. Oh, yeah, and I do hate being sick!
The result of this self-care was a deeper appreciation of Everything. I didn’t need margaritas or blazing hot salsa, or enchiladas mole every night, or Mexican-made Coca-Cola with real sugar. No. There was plenty to love and be grateful for in any given moment. Without embellishment. And, note this, without any sense of deprivation. I mean it.
The thing I’d love to experience now is to savor this kind of appreciation here, at home, in Evanston, Illinois, on a chilly, damp Monday morning in early May. Today. And why not? Because today is all there is, right? Just another ripple in the single continuous take that is Being.
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