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?
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