Isa, or the rune of danger, is the last rune you want to draw on a travel day, and so far, with all the flight delays and great storm upon my arrival in Cancun, it was living up to its reputation. As with everything, however, there are always two sides of a coin, there is always some good and some bad. While Isa is not a good sign, it doesn’t mean disaster is eminent either, rather that precautions should be taken.
Isa is just one vertical line. It stands for ice and cold. Its month is January, and it represents the Snow Moon. It is also associated with the number seven. Drawing this stone means that patience is required. It is not the time to act in haste. It has unstoppable power, like a glacier, but events will take their own time. When it comes to relationships, it may signify a cooling off of them. High expectations may come to nothing. Emotions may run cold. It is a time to take things slowly. Trying to rush across treacherous ground may lead to a downfall.
According to a healing interpretation of the stones, Isa represents fear. Again, this may just mean that caution should be exercised. There are things to be feared, and then there is fear itself. There is a difference between skepticism and paranoia. Fear has taken control when it shuts down life and the decision-making process entirely. Although one should always have a healthy respect for one’s intuition, it is important not be let fear take control. Things rarely turn out as badly as you may fear. In fact, it is often quite the opposite.
Fear had been a huge and unhealthy part of my life, and I was usually catastrophizing or imagining worst case scenarios. Some of them, like my current state of instability, and the fact that no one had ever paid attention to my writing, had indeed come true, yet I was still out living another adventure, and had made it to Cancun. It was absolutely pouring out and didn’t look like it would be letting up anytime soon, yet the plane hadn’t crashed, and though my feet were still messed up, at least they were functioning.
The bags had gone around the carousel three times, before I recognized mine. It was a small suitcase to have been living out of for a dozen years by now, and somehow looked even smaller and more battered on this day. When I took it to the exit there were only independent taxis out front, and one young guy kept pitching me a ride into the city for twenty-five dollars. That was too much, but the way it was storming, I didn’t have much wiggle room. I blew him off and asked two or three other taxis. None were much cheaper, and every time I turned around, there he was. Finally, I relented, only to have him call an Uber for me.
The driver showed up with a shaved head and grim countenance, and then the tout who’d pitched the ride tried to get in the front seat. I wasn’t having that, paranoid by now, looking at the skull that ran down the back of the driver’s skull. I gave the tout the cash, but demanded he stay put. He asked if I didn’t want company. Absolutely not. The driver and I pulled out into the pounding rain.
The last time I’d arrived in Cancun, only two years ago, it had been a bright sunny day, with a bunch of drink vendors outside the gate, selling pina coladas and mai tais, and a shuttle bus right to the center of town. Now I didn’t know where we were going. The driver could’ve been taking me anywhere There was almost zero visibility.
We stopped in a shady neighborhood in front of what looked like an abandoned building. It was the hotel. I had to jump over puddles to get to the door and my clothes got soaked. There was a gate at the door. I rang the buzzer three times and someone finally came down from the top flight of stairs. He was wearing a baseball hat and never smiled once, seeming to wonder what I wanted and why I was bothering him.
If it hadn’t been raining so hard, I would’ve just taken off and looked for another place. Instead, I waited for him to open to the gate and followed him to my room up three flights of stairs. There was a big puddle in the middle of the floor, as if it had been raining inside. Outside of that, it was plain, but adequate.
I needed to get some food and the guy let me out the gate. He didn’t give me a key for it. Every time I wanted to get in and out, I would have to buzz him. That was beyond inconvenient, especially since he hadn’t smiled once and acted as if he were doing me a favor just to open the door. Crossing the street was like trying to leap across a river. Both shoes got fully submerged.
There were two children at the store I approached, only an iron-barred window to look into and order from. The girl might’ve been twelve, the boy perhaps five. I got a bag of chips, a cup of ramen noodles the girl heated in a microwave, some cookies, and a bottle of water. The boy stood there shyly on a bench and counted out my purchase as his sister helped. As I was leaving, I got drenched by a passing bus.
Once back in the room, I left my wet clothes on the wet floor, and discovered there was no hot water in the shower. There was only a sheet in the bed, so I got beneath it and lay there shivering. The next day the air would be hot enough to boil potatoes, so the fact that it was now so cold was just perverse. It had been an Isa kind of day.