Un-utterable

Nietzsche, in the fourth book of his "Joyful Science", says something like "with the first breath of spring I want to sing my dearest wish: that I can ever more learn to see as beautiful that which is necessary in things". I awoke Friday morning with this idea perculating in my mind. The haunting depths of Nietzsche's nihilism were lurking as always with the awe-inspiring beauty I see in his tragically un-realized philosophy of inspiration and life. Yet on Friday I felt more confidence in the accompanying feelings of trust and forgiveness, and I had the sense the latter two sentiments really could raise Nietzsche's broken words to life, especially in a place like El Salvador.

My thoughts Friday morning have helped me to begin to articulate something I've been struggling and desiring to articulate since arriving in El Salvador: my reason for being here. I think in a country that has seen so much suffering, so much degradation and violation of human dignity, and that continues to suffer under an unjust and unredeemable world-economic system- In a country where neighbors have slayed neighbors, and neighboring countries have been invited to join- life would be impossible if it were not for forgiveness. The average Salvadoran campesino would die of rage and injustice. The green dusty mountains would shrivel in the heat and the only drops of water left running would be in the blood of all the innocent women, children, men, and human life destroyed in the unthinkable processes of betrayel we call "war", "politics", "ignorance", and "fear".

Fortunately for El Salvador, fortunately for the human soul, there is a capacity for forgiveness. And it runs rampant in El Salvador. In fact I think there are elements in the Salvadoran landscape and manner of family life that tacitly and persistently preach the necessity and truth of forgiveness. (Talk about learning to see as beautiful that which is necessary- that your country suffers from centures of polarized economics, gang violence, and the daggers of hunger and poverty.)

Well, as horrible a picture as I may paint of El Salvador or the world, when I am here I come into contact with the deepest sense of peace I have ever experienced. To be accepted by my host family- my abuela, David, and Chomingo- to be embraced by the kids of Barrio San Jose in the immediate environs of the Center- to share the sacred space we create in a session of yoga. To be welcomed by Salvadoran smiles, to be invited every single day to learn something new- a personal story, a history, a Spanish word- I feel as if the evil and corruption in me as a fellow bearer of the human form living in the world, is totally forgiven.

Of course I do not always feel this way- inspired, happy, full of peace. There are times when I am dirty and tired and downright uncertain where my mind is. But every day when I wake up I am in love with a world that can see so much pain and tragedy and still give me green and sunshine and my abuelita's "Como amanecio papita!?", and the opportunity to build a class, a community, a movement here with the people of Suchitoto.

Puchica. With all that said, the moment of the week which I wanted to mention surrounds my very lovely abuelita, Dona Carmen, the grandmother of David and Chomingo. (Although first I'll mention, partly for the sake of my own memory, that the abovementioned epiphany comes largely from Dean Brackley's "The Call to Discernment in Troubled Times" where he talks about the liberating experiencing of living with and working with our world's poor.)

Ok, so Thursday night I believe it was. I returned home from Yoga class and chorus with Sister Peggy (she gave me a ride out to the countryside) thinking I would grab a small dinner at the most reputable and clean-looking pupusaria I could find in El Bario. (My first night eating in the campo was followed by a morning in the hole-in-the-ground outhouse.) Dona Carmen had been making cheese earlier in the day before I took off for the Center and I remember thinking "there's no way I am going to eat that" (cheese was one of the culprits, I believe, for my initial ailment).

Anyway, I got home from class and I was just so inspired from the day. David had taken me for a tour through El Bario's mountains, sites of battle, farmlands with beautiful views of the lake and mountains, and we had capped it off with a fresh-from-the-farm vegetable soup; the yoga class had gone well as usual and I hadn't even prepared much for this one; I was just generally feeling spirited, so when abuelita offered me cheese and tortillas (both homemade) I said "sure, why not".

Well it was just such a special dinner. David and our neighbour Rene took off on some errand or another so it was just Dona Carmen and I. I made sure that she would be eating with me, because I think at first she just wanted to provide me with food, and then we sat down together. I asked Dona Carmen if she wanted to pray, "hacer una gracia", before we ate, and her response was priceless. I don't know if I'm correct in saying so, but it seemed as if maybe no one had asked her to sit down to a real, formal meal with grace and everything in quite some time.

Well we sat and ate, we talked about the day, about Abuelita's husband Antonio (who I do not believe is still alive), about how abuelita lost most of her eye to a tree branch during the war, and I told her all about my wonderful "novia", Alicia, who was going to be visiting us on Saturday. After dinner I shared the many pictures of my family and friends I had brought, introducing my parents and siblings, my girlfriend and cousins, and she must have asked me 10 times who was who everytime I showed her a picture with long-haired me and Alicia.

Ahh. I cannot articulate the words.... Well Alicia has come and gone by now, and the other volunteers and I are getting ready to meet for a spirituality night tonight with Sister Peggy. After seeing Alicia and introducing her to my various friends and family here, my mind is full of thoughts of the future, and thoughts of all the projects I want to enact in El Bario. Before deciding to return to the Center to blog, it was great to spend a few quiet moments looking out over the mountains and lake here and determining myself to stay in the moment and love the people to whom I've been given to love. That means: poetry classes tomorrow, yoga class Tuesday, and a meeting with community members in El Bario Tuesday to see if I can't start some kind of class or activity out in El Bario. Oh yea, and also seeing Alicia Friday for another visit to our friends in Tepecoyo (our previous service site from 2009).

Final thought: "Love has no ugly underbelly. Go to a big space and let out all your spite and anger. Then you will return to the first movement of love to which your soul aspires."

Peace.

Alex

Mucha inspiracion

So there are three experiences I'd like to communicate. Or three feelings I guess. They were not quick flashes of epiphany or anything like that. Rather each feeling was was a slowly accumulating gratitude and inspiration- which had points higher or lower than others- but in general obtained for the entire length of the three experiences of which I'd like to sing.

I'll do this backwards then, starting from the last hour that has just passed, then moving on to the morning, and then to last night.

So this morning I had my poetry class at the Center. In attendance were Maria Jose and Alex Antonio, who are young (14 or so), humble kids who have been in the class since the first session. Also in attendance were the "cool" kids- Luis, who always wears a trucker hat and big t-shirts, Erwin who likes to rap every class, Armando the shy, well-dressed, and Wilbur, the skinny lively one with cool graphic T's. These are the sorts of kids for whom I designed the "rap" portion of the class, and who, I've been discovering, are quite humble and kind themselves.

We read a portion of a poem by Pablo Neruda called "Amor America"- an excellent collection of ideas and images about the history of the earth, the history of human beings, the lost epoch of early human development, the initial stages of our slowly-civilizing (or devolving) dance with mother earth.
I asked the students for reactions, responses, images that they enjoyed and we spent a good 40 minutes discussing the various meanings, the importance of retaining the historical memory of human experiences (wars, society, etc.), some images or words the students didn't understand. For me, explaining the Northern Lights of Antarctica to a class of Salvadoran students- in Spanish, and in the context of this brilliant and sometimes dark Pablo Neruda work- is a joy of simply un-utterable degree.
To top it off, we did an exercise where I read the poem to the class one more time while they sat with their eyes closed "entering the world of the author". And afterward I asked them to write a reaction, or a response, or a continuation to/about/for/similar to "Amor America". For homework they are to review the poem and write an original work of some sort- cancion (song), poema, o algo similar- to turn in to me. I am excited to see what the next class brings...

The second feeling took place this morning.
I left my new home in El Bario around 8:15 or so and made the short walk up a dirt road to the corner bus stop. I sat on one of several rocks conveniently scattered about on the side of the road. These rocks serve as a pleasant open-air waiting room.
As I sat on the rock I began reading a poem one of my students had written in class on Monday- about a flower. I had asked the students to close their eyes and imagine a simple image- a flower- and then take 5 minutes to describe or build the image in their minds.
This is what Brandon, one student of mine, wrote:

Sin mi no vivirian los humanos porque
si no existieramos nosotros las rosas
todos los humanos moririan
y tambien las abejas no tuvieran miel.
Yo naci de una semillita y me morchiatare
y sembraran otra semillita
y nacera y siempre me cuidaran.

Yo naci en una tierra negra
arriba en una loma en medio
de una milpa y tambien
a los colibris les doy miel y
de esa milpa comen los pajaritos.

Y cada vez que llueve
me voy haciendo mas fuerte
y entre mas fuerte mas
miel doy yo
soy un girasol.

Wow. I felt so blessed to be sitting on this rock in the open air, under the blue sky of the Salvadoran morning, reading this inspired work that came right from the mind of a young man in El Salvador who, as Alicia reminded me the night before, could be just as easily- or perhaps much more easily- spending his time emulating la cultura machisma, or the super sexual culture that surrounds him.
After a few moments pondering the poem, another young man in a soccer jersey came up and sat on a rock nearby. He was listening to an N'Sync song in Spanish ("hasta yo no respira/ yo te voy amar" - "til the day my life is through, this I promise you"). We struck up a conversation about the music, and I eventually learned that this guy's name is Walter, and that he plays for la seleccion de Suchitoto, se llama "La Brasilia".
As we waited for the bus, a pickup came by and when Walter gave a slight flip of the hand the drivers of the pickup beckoned him aboard. Walter said "vamanos" and I jumped up on the bed of the truck with him.
We enjoyed the fresh flowing air on our faces as we traversed the winding, jungle and farm immersed road, and we traded words about our families and sports preferences. Walter is probably in Apopa by now, eating lunch with some of his teammates before heading to Aguilares to play their team. He told me on the truck that his team is the only one in the league that is undefeated. After 8 games out of 12 they are doing quite well. I hope to see them when they play next week on their home concha here in Suchitoto.
When we arrived in Suchitoto we had to walk a little bit because the truck driver was headed the opposite direction from the Center and the bus-stop to which Walter was headed. I was so proud of Suchitoto and Walter in particular as we walked together. It seemed everyone on the street knew Walter- young and old, women and men- or at least everyone recognized Walter was donning the Suchitoto yellow and green and they offered their support or a joke about the previous game with wide smiles, from open tienda doorways, from passing trucks, or passing us on the street. I also saw my friend Maricel from yoga on the road headed to a cooking class she is attending at the national university here in Suchi.

The general feeling this morning with Walter, with the poem, walking through Suchi was just pride in our world. And I wouldn't want to be anywhere else experiencing it.

The third experience I want to express is my second night in El Bario, living with David (25 year old friend of Hermana Peggy and the Center) and his Abuela, Dona Carmen. The first night in El Bario was a little rough because David took off and his grandmother spent at least an hour talking to herself, or people from her past- friends, family, maybe some who had died in the war- and I had some difficulty deciding that it was not my job to swaddle her in love and care and reverse all the damage and inevitabilities of time and suffering that had transpired in and outside this small, sturdy woman.
Well last night David remained in the house and when I arrived around 8pm we actually spent a good while walking the streets of El Bario in the dark- encountering some friends of his, surveying the location of the community center, the soccer field, the cooperative daycare playground. We then sat in the house and spoke for a while about David's experiences in Europe, particularly Irelandia or Ireland, Escocia or Scotland, and Inglaterra or England. Through a program that had passed through the Center, David was one of two Salvadorans who had the opportunity to travel to Ireland for a year to visit and study culture.
David had much to say about everything- the materials that most abounded in European art and architecture, the attitudes that most abounded among the various peoples (the Rusos, Polanos y los de Alemania are the most "rough" in his experience). We talked about the affect of weather on a people's attitude and economy- apparently in El Salvador one can predict the normality or danger of a storm solely by witnessing from which direction it comes (from the north come normal storms, from the south come the home-wreckers). However, in Scotland and England Ireland, David told me, the weather is simply unpredictable, coming from every which way and changing constantly, though always remaining a somber shade of grey. It seems to me David entered his abroad experience with a whole lot of energy to learn and grow....
He also partied some with the Europeans and had many stories about the different types and grossly excessive amounts of alcohol they drink in Ireland, Scotland and England. One time some friends and he took a journey to a castle at midnight to see the supposed phantoms and spirits that some English believe to exist there.

All in all, by the time we went to bed I was feeling quite fortunate to have such a guide in David. I cannot begin to relate the depth of emotion there lay in his voice when he described to me some of the history of the war in the life of his grandmother- who had raised him and his brother herself, and who had lost an eye to a branch running through the woods to protect them- as well as the history of their once destroyed home, their strip of land on the haunted Cerro Guazapa, and the nights of terror the people of El Bario endured in the mountains when the military came to their town to occupy houses and kill anyone who remained behind.

Puchica is the word here for "dang". Puchica.

Ok, maybe that didn't end with inspiration. But if you take this blog post as a whole the message can only be inspiring. David and his grandmother have opened their home to me, some poets have opened their imaginations, and I am learning how to open myself to the many things this world can do to me.

Peace, Love,
Alex

Movin' on

Hey folks. So I am back in Suchitoto after spending the weekend in San Salvador with Alicia and the Casa family. It was a great couple of days. I had been looking forward to the program reunion which took place yesterday. Basically representatives from all of the Casa program's "praxis" sites joined together with Casa students and staff for an outing to one of the community's in which Casa students work.
The community we visited is called Las Nubes, which is appropriate enough as we had to climb Volcan San Salvador in order to reach it. We had a great time and I was just to psyched to spend time with my Salvadoran mother Angelica and four other women from my former praxis site Tepecoyo.






Today I returned to Suchitoto with Sister Peggy after a relaxing morning with Alicia. I was still tired out from the hike yesterday and the drive back out to Suchi in the heat so I grabbed a nap before reuniting with Pablo and Cassandra, the two new (recently married) volunteers here. We had some pupusas and caught up with each other a bit and now I'm just hanging in the office looking forward to another week in Suchi.

This week will be a bit different because I am actually preparing to move out of the Center at some point to a community called El Bario. I will live with two Salvadoran guys named David and Chumingo, and their grandmother. I am a bit nervous about how the whole commute to the Center will work out, especially if I am limited in terms of how long I can hang out at the Center during the day (the last bus might leave no later than 5, in which case I'll be playing less soccer and going out for pupusas with my fellow volunteers much less). Overall I am excited to make a move further out into the Salvadoran community here. It will be great for my Spanish and I hope to do some organizing out in El Bario, maybe get another soccer team going or hold some yoga classes out there too. We'll see, the sky pretty much appears to be the limit. I just hope I still have time to be part of this excellent community of volunteers we now have.


Speaking of that community, I'll share some pictures now from last Thursday. Although we are missing Korla right now as she's visiting her family in Minnesota, we have Colin, Christy's boyfriend, out here for the week, and on Thursday our friend from Suchitoto, Rosaura, was also here.

The picture to the right here features Christy and her Colin at center there, with Cassandra flanking on the right (her husband Pablo is taking the picture), and then Rosaura and myself on the left there.

This picture to the left gives you a glimpse of the handsome Mr. Paul "Pablo" Kiger.

And in case you've lost track, our other volunteer buddy is Ariel who arrived to pupusas late on thursday. Here she is with Cassandra in the comedor of the Center:So the other great pictures of the week featured on this post are as follows: first is Cassandra surrounded by youngins at the skatepark, the second is the colorful and delicious meal we cooked on Thursday (also featured above in the picture of Ariel and Cassandra) cooking the meal featured in several pictures in this post (Rose, you would have loved it), and the third is Paul skating with some of our friends in the park.

A final photo for the night, and one I am most proud of, features last thursday's yoga class. I will post the guided meditation at some point if I remember all of it. For now, here's the class:

There's Delmi on the left, one of our friends who works in the office here; Rosaura in the front middle, Luis Felipe on the right facing a different direction than everyone else, Ariel behind Rosaura, our friend Flor in there in the middle behind Rosaura, with her little brother Carlos behind her.... I'm not gonna name everyone, but it was a great group.

Give it away so that I can receive tomorrow

Hey ya'all. So I am sitting in this beautiful corrider outside the office at the Center listening to the song "Give it away" by Quincy Coleman. Naturally, I am casually wondering how it is that I am so blessed to be here in this moment doing what I am doing. Breathing. Communicating (hopefully) to friends and family at home and otherwise who are all involved in their specific lives, trying with their mite to be the person they were born to be.
It is not every night perhaps that I feel this content, but I am usually pensive toward nighttime. Lately I've been spending that time of contemplation playing guitar or journaling, and always stretching a bit before I go to bed. But tonight I thought I'd share some of my thoughts.

Only, there aren't that many in my mind right now. I just am feeling like this life I've been given is such a wonderful gift- a freely given, wonderful and wide open experience. The sky I look upon above the terracota roof tiles of the Center's corridors is full of my guides. The stars that will always be a reach away, yet always there to reassure me with the feeling of impulsion and wonder they give me.
Amidst all the harsh realities of the world, of this town, jeeze of the hunger and violence that is besetting people right outside the door here...
I think with my specific eye for psychological mechanisms of being- the instincts, learned responses and hopes we harbour in our bodies and minds- encountering other cultures, for me, becomes a process of learning how peoples respond to the struggles and joys of life. And one simple lesson I've learned in my time traveling is that the joys are just more important. I'm not quite sure how to articulate this pretty blatantly obvious fact, but I guess I mean to say actually that both struggles and joys are important, but the struggles just happen naturally. They are part of life. There is no way to respond to them other than to go through them with an eye and a heart for encountering and creating more joy in oneself and others.

I have spent so much energy, creative, loving, passionate energy, driving my mind into holes of despair. From difficult or confounding experiences I have learned to shape struggles into events, into dramas, into narratives of tragedy perhaps that, while sometimes admitting me to look upon myself and my life with interest or ardour, have not allowed me to move on. Suffering is a reality that we need to learn to deal with in whatever manner we can of course. I just think I have been benefitting enormously of late by simply letting things that bother me go. Which of course should be the case, but is not always easy.
Perhaps that is something about El Salvador that called me back: in a place where I am forced to be so vulnerable (the jarring history, the blank-slate of a job I have, the endlessly enchanting culture, the fact that I can't understand whole phrases people say to me sometimes!), I cannot help contact the most essential places in my soul that simply want to live and share joy with others.

My friend Eduardo, one of the night "vigilantes", is one of the nicest end caring people I know. Right now he is sweeping the floors of the corridor, which he usually does at night while singing or whistling. At dinner tonight he sat down at a table separate from ours because there were no seats left so I rose to join him and within minutes we were immersed in some kind of joke about pupusas, the food we were eating. Even though I am not a fluent spanish speaker, I am so comfortable talking with him because I know he just wants to share some words and a smile.
Sometimes Eduardo breaks into song- a campesino tune, or maybe a backstreet boys song he learned who-knows-where. The former sorts of songs showcase his wonderful singing voice, and to hear him talk of his milpa (farm) is just so satisfying. I've always wanted to be a farmer, so to be around the aura of this old-school Salvadoran gentleman is just a pleasure. Many Salvadoran men are more forward in terms of emotional communication than Northamericans I think, but the great thing about Eduardo is that his openness appears totally natural, and if he had a single malicious thought you'd probably know it just by looking at him. Ahh I don't know if I'm putting this into words or not, I just really admire Eduardo and really all the vigilantes here. On one hand they're just goofballs- you should here the high cackle of "Don Lito" when he's cleaning out the capilla (chapel) or weeding the garden- yet at the same time they are completely gallant and immediate reminiscient, like I said, of some kind of forgotten art of countryside chivarly. Ah, I love this country...

Alright, my tired mind need sleep. Yoga went very well tonight. It was the second class and I did a more extensive meditation portion- which I heard afterward was met with great approval and enjoyment. The meditation parts are harder for me to do since Spanish has a lot less words so I can't get away with just yarning on and on about the energy in the universe. I have to actually change topics and think of other things to say. Anyway, it went well and so did Ariel's chorus lesson. I was actually able to sing a scale correctly with her professional help, as was the rest of the class. Ah, final thought of the night: I miss Korla! She has gone home to visit her family in Minnesota, attend a wedding, surprise her sister and celebrate her sister's birthday with her... If you are reading this, Korla, your Salvadoran family patiently awaits your return. Aprovecha vos tu tiempo en Minnesota.



Also, I love and miss my family so much.... I hope you are all doing well and I look foward to speaking with you soon. One picture and then I'm gone. Peace! (the picture above is a student and skater friend, Alex, doing a little loopdy-loop with Volcan Guazapa in the distance)

Oh, last thing. For those interested in my mailing address, here it is:

Alexander Vaeth
Centro Arte para la Paz
2ª Calle Poniente #5
Barrio San José, Suchitoto
El Salvador, Centro América