Small is Beautiful

In terms of experience, the last two weeks have been quite colorful. I enjoy meals with the warmest of families, both strangers and kinfolk. As I continue to bear witness to vivid landscapes both mountainous and coastal, I am also confronted by large swathes of cinderblocks, smog, and roadside garbage. In yoga classes, in parks, and on the street (among other locales), I’ve met farmers, mechanics, intellectuals, and ice-cream venders who appear to be some of the happiest people in the world. I have even warmed up to a few other species.

I’m greeted by the glimmering eyes of Clifford Miguel, the boxer-bulldog who has come to appreciate my affection and leftovers after each meal. Then there is the our backyard community of chickens, who now feel entitled to portions of the compost that I’ve only recently begun collecting. The rooftop rabbit is no different, as his visits to the porch outside of my room (thanks to vegetable scraps) have gone from an enjoyable oddity to a nightly certainty.

In terms of understanding and influencing my surroundings, I used to deny the vast levels of uncertainty within my own life. Teaching in a bilingual school to groups of students with incredibly diverse backgrounds and learning styles, however, has helped me to both accept as well as see the beauty within ambiguity.

“The present moment is filled with joy and happiness. If you are attentive, you will see it.” -Thich Nhat Hanh

Each time I sit down on a dingy wooden chair to work one-on-one with Noé, Angel, and Oliver, equal amounts of inspiration and frustration ambush my awareness. These three orphaned second-graders—whose hyperactivity and “disobedience” is surpassed only by the passion and creativity contained within their every verbal, facial, and bodily outburst—seem to struggle in seeing the relevance of filling-in the blanks on worksheets and repeating phrases alongside their peers. As one would expect, this unforgettable trio capitalizes on every opportunity to leap from their seats in order to express their limitless energy and feed their insatiable curiosity.

But as they strengthen my patience, they also reveal the utter abundance of their potential. While Noé has a habit of going to the bathroom and subsequently disappearing for unreasonable stretches of time, it is within every social nook and cranny of the building that he eventually surfaces–smiling from ear to ear in his little polo and trousers. While Angel may struggle to follow directions, he can (with structured encouragement) direct himself quite capably so long as colored pencils and imagination are sprinkled into the equation. I have yet to stumble upon Oliver’s hidden genius, but we are slowly working to unveil his secrets.

 “I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity.” -Gilda Radner

Each day that I move forward, trying to crack the codes of these struggling students’ minds (most often unsuccessfully) during each moment that I spend with them, I am forced to confront the simultaneous presence of uncertainty and possibility with which the fabric of life is woven. At the same time, I am reminded that small, nurturing acts of care and encouragement greatly impact my own life as well as the world. It seems as though life’s lessons appear in places and faces that one woud least expect, and that I am more of a student than a teacher in many ways.

As I see the faint glimmer of these three rough gems, I am also reminded of Felipe and Cristian—two of my former sixth-grade students whose equal levels of talent, energy, and non-compliance have led them away from school and onto the streets. While I will most likely never see the adult faces of Noé, Angel, and Oliver, I can be here to offer possibility.

As I recall numerous world-leaders and innovators, as well as some of my former classmates, I return to the fact that many of those who reside in the margins of our institutions are those who are most capable of greatness—and so, I return to cherish and nurture the sprouting opportunities contained within the present moment.

The Arrival

After spending 48 hours scurrying around my hometown like a headless chicken—tying up loose-ends from the semester that had just passed, preparing for the rapidly approaching academic year, saying farewell to friends and family, as well as packing my bags—I finally boarded a plane from Cleveland to Houston, and then from Houston to a seemingly magnetic, magical realm that is often referred to as “The Land of Eternal Spring”.

Rain fell from the the skies and nervous anticipation plagued my mind as our pilot circled the airport for an hour before he was given permission to penetrate the turbulence above Guatemala City. Though I would not consider myself adherent one particular religion, I found myself partaking in acts of gratuitous prayer as the giant, flammable bullet in which I sat approached the slick asphalt. For the first time since my previous arrival to The Land of Eternal Spring, I reverently acknowledged all that is beyond my control before returning to the anxious animosity that lies within the playground of my own freedom to choose. I have found that the simple act of paying mind to the balance between what I can and cannot control, as well as directing my attention to the former, goes a long way in my struggle to maintain a positive mindset when untouchable beasts such as fear and anxiety present themselves.

“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.”

-St. Augustine

As I dragged my luggage through customs and approached the exit, feeling like a rather worn out piece of burlap, the semi-noxious aroma of the city triggered a flood of both memories and ecstatic energy from within. From a distance, still approaching the exit, I began to scan the row of faces amidst the dimly lit shuttle area; just then, the unmistakable silhouette of a sturdy man with poor posture and choppy sections of hair protruding from his baseball cap caught my eye. I scurried joyfully toward an opening in the haphazardly gated area, where I was greeted by the boisterous grunts and moans that Don Mario Hernández Orellana simply cannot keep to himself. “Hmmm! Como estás AH-WEN!?” (for some reason, many Guatemalan’s have trouble pronouncing my name). We exchanged a brief man-hug and, just as I turned around to grab my bags, I was ambushed by limitless smile of his wife—Doña Ofelia–which beamed upward to meet mine. We walked in heavenly silence to their car as a sensation of joy continued to expand from within me to the point at which I could not discern the place where my skin met its surroundings.

I had spent the previous summer sharing a home with the Orellanas while teaching in the village of San Bernabé, which is nested within the quiet mountain atmosphere a few miles away in stark contrast to our town’s constant hum of music, motorbikes, buses, and canines. Don Mario became a self-employed mechanical engineer (mostly related to the booming tourism industry in Antigua) after leaving his 25-year stint at a public-health firm in the capital city. He now spends much more time at home, which affords him the freedom to enjoy home-life while ensuring that his family floats happily down their stream. Doña Ofealia, a loving but nonetheless critical presence whose will and wisdom silently steers the family ship, directs the local public school while also teaching weekend courses to aspiring educators at a humble university in the neighboring town. While Don Mario specializes in deriving comedy and adventure from his circumstances, Doña Ofelia takes pride in the simple gifts that life offers—especially laughter. Regardless of time or place, her motherly gifts always seems to make a far greater impact than her appearance conveys.

During our 90 minute ride back to my home away from home in Parramos, the three of us exchanged a random array of stories. Our shared experiences from the past, things that unfolded since we last parted, future family excursions, the recent schoolyard gossip regarding my arrival; all of it was fair-game for a delightful exchange of symbolic meanings. As we winded through seas of mountain mist, I was quite surprised to find myself blurting out random factoids as memories (of which, until now, I was totally oblivious) began to rise to the surface of my awareness. “Doesn’t your friend Oscar live in the town in that valley?…This highway just reminds me of the live infomercials that take place on the chicken buses…Oh! That’s the town that is known for making kites and their annual flying festivals!…That’s the place where we had to tow your truck last summer! I thought we would never make it up that one hill!…I forgot about those foul-smelling flowers! wait, are we approaching Pastores?”

Like a budding adolescent revisiting the playground of their elementary years, I wiggled around the passenger seat in astonishment before quieting down as an awareness began to wash over me. Comparable to drinking from a fire-hose, I suddenly became cognizant of the ways in which the puzzle pieces of my past had molded my future (which was, at this point, the present)–each little drop immersing me in a subjective masterpiece as the experience arose and subsided. Thankfully, the darkness concealed my glassy eyes as I thought about where and who I might be if I had chosen to remain in the states the previous summer. We made our way home safely and noisily, embracing every moment of the reunion.

The clock struck midnight and the roosters began to get over their egos just as I began to devour my blatantly authentic supper. After giving the customary bedtime salutations to my second family, I sat in solitary silence while listening to the howls of los motos and los chuchos as the voice of an unspeakable sense of peace—a wholehearted acceptance of the past, present, and future in light of both its ambiguity and glory—emerged from the dining room’s rough, blood-orange walls. “I’ve been waiting for you”, she whispered.

“In the midst of difficulty lies opportunity.”

-Albert Einstein

Though I know that I will face a great deal of challenges as I work to inform, inspire, and engage my students in the time that I will spend in the nearby village during the next two and a half months, I no longer struggle with the fear of failure and inadequacy nor the frustrations of my own limits as a human being (as I did last summer). Will students ask me questions to which I do not have the answer? Yes. Will I need to divert energy from teaching toward discipline and become utterly exhausted in the process? Yes. Will I be expected to address issues whose causes are far beyond my control? Yes. Do I feel the need to worry or complain? No.

At the heart of the lens through which I view my own experience on this Earth lies the very same message that wish to convey to my students: welcome each challenge with a smile; walk steady with the knowledge that the anthill on which you climb—be its contents bitter or sweet—can provide intangible gifts of ineffable value.

“since life poses an endless series of problems, life is always difficult and is full of pain as well as joy. Yet it is in this whole process of meeting and solving problems that life has its meaning.”

-Scott Peck

Throughout the twenty years that this body has given me, I have become convinced that—regardless of our circumstances—our meandering along this fragile walkway warrants utter contentment in each moment. One question, however, remains: why is it that many of us do not regularly drop to our knees with causeless joy and a willingness to forge ahead despite challenge and uncertainty?