We close our eyes to remain open, we cover our ears to listen within,
we hold our breath to embrace the spirit, we stay silent to speak volumes, and we remain still to move others and begin again.
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As we walk the earth,
we trod its outermost layers,
and it touches us back on our innermost levels. We may step with a heavy foot, or we may leave no trace of our existence for for future generations. We may have sea legs, working hands, or ears tuned to cascading waterfalls in those hills we love so much. We may have a heart that holds sunsets, a soul that yearns for the solitude of the high desert, or feet that prefer to breathe and be laid bare before the cycle of existence. Every blade of grass, every cloud, and pebble left in peace wish to touch us back, and teach us what they know.
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When you scratch beneath the surface of existence, searching for the truth that lies beneath, you may just find wells of splendor, springing forth to challenge expectations. Springing forth to challenge assumptions. We may just discover how we are connected with what we discover. How it lives in us. How we live in the truth together.
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~ Graceful Survivors ~
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“…Those who owe unpayable debts of emotion, those who live with stamps of darkness upon their hearts, and fields of black lilies being constantly uprooted within their toxic nerves of rust, those should be given no reverence. Those should be pitied. Those should be turned away from. …”
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~ Acertado ~
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Why on earth are we afraid or to speak of each other’s pain?
Why do we hesitate to acknowledge each other’s wounds?
Can a pill solve what deep meaningful connection can’t?
Why are we squeamish to create convo surrounding regrets?
We benefit from buying new outfits. We grow by apologizing for wrongdoings.
We are lifted up by a sense of urgency to fall into each other.
Let us be real, raw, open, and honest about what ails us. What fears we have. What wounds we’ve endured and never spoken of before. Let us plant a flag in sustainable lives and relationships. Let us be fearlessly authentic and wonderful listeners.
Let us be brave and bold speakers. Let us be with each other, ashamed only of not saying something sooner.
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You’ve never hesitated to speak of eternity, as if it was just something you knew. So, when the sky parts and gives way to our dreams in Cappadocia, may we focus so intently on the bright colors and the seams at sunrise, that they stitch our hearts together in unison.
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~ Conversation in the Plaza ~
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I remember making the mistake of pulling out pesos to buy a meager five pieces of chicle from one little boy who asked. It was as if children manifested from the stones, the walls, and the fountain itself. It was the summer of ninety-six and my experience shaping my tongue was only in books and classrooms en los estados unidos. After the rest of the children had given up, you stayed. Reina, I remember sitting with you and my broken Spanish in the plaza of Cuernavaca. I remember you crying with your head on my shoulder, and the look of fear in your eyes when the older man chastised you. I remember attempting to find out what your dreams were and, perhaps more importantly, if you had eaten that day. I remember you patting me on top of my head which wasn’t yet calvo at this point. I remember wishing I could pack you in my bag and adopt you. Your innocence triumphed alongside your curiosity. My inadequacies scoffed at my hope. In the remote distance I could make out a mariachi, red tie loosened, singing the Beatles’ ‘Don’t let me down’ and praying, before I even believed in its power, that I wouldn’t let you down, even though I had just met you. I just wanted you to know that I remembered. I hope you found your way into living like the queen I remembered from your childhood. I remembered your name was Reina.
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I was convinced that I would teach myself how to play the harmonica and the acoustic guitar. I was convinced I would have travelled more by my current age. I was convinced that I had something to contribute to this world, before my passing, that was unique and irreplaceable. I knew in my heart that my elders urging me to study hard, work hard, and stay focused, must be right. I have given up on the American Dream a thousand times over, and yet there is a persistent love in my heart which begs me to hold on to my dessert fork. Better things are on their way.
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When you see an opening, and you have the sense in your spine that this opportunity was meant for you, do not give in to the fear that may come with a storm on the horizon. Focus on the opportunity. Anything lost for the sake of self actualization or true love can only be counted as gained. Through the trials and tribulations possibly someone above has seen to it that the window remained.
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~ Peniel ~
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As I wrestle with issues,
As we wrestle with collective struggles,
and as our children lose sleep,
when they shouldn’t have a care in the world;
Have patience and continue.
As I ford the river in darkness,
As we travel side-by-side in rusty metal boxes,
and as our children hide beneath desks
in monthly drills,
when they should be creating;
Have grit and grace and continue.
As I fail to see the purpose in destruction,
as we neglect to see those that need the most help,
and as our children continue to ask why,
when they’re rapidly learning that we
don’t have all the answers;
Have faith and continue.
For once we become face to face,
all will make sense.
All will be light, and all will be joy.
Until the day of utmost clarity,
in the bell towers of memory,
let us continue to struggle, to wrestle,
to care, to love, and to persevere.
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Genesis 32:22-32
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