By, Alexa Valavanis
A hot summer evening in Chico set the backdrop for a conversation I had waited many years to have. The last time I was with Dr. Godwin Orkeh and Christian Nix, we were in a house built around an avocado tree on the hillsides of San Marco. This tree sat on the crust of Lake Atitlan, Guatemala.
That was seven years ago.
Sitting together again, my mind was flooded with memories of trekking up and down the mountainsides serving the indigenous, listening to their needs, and helping in ways we didn’t know we could - until we did.
However, on this August night, we rested comfortably in lounge chairs on my back patio, and reflected on the journeys we’d been on together and the near decade spent apart.
Godwin, the MD of our lot, had come to visit after finishing his fifth stint in Darfur, Sudan. He had gone in and out of the war-torn, refugee-saturated regions wearing badges from numerous NGO’s including Relief International, World Health Organization and the United Nations. Godwin helped those he could, and promised that the world had not forgotten their plight. His work was never completed but he slept peacefully knowing he was doing all he could.
As the sun made way for the evening stars, Godwin pulled out his baby blue United Nations passport, something I had only seen in the movies. He pointed out stamps that provided doorways to distant lands - Afghanistan, Pakistan and Somalia. And, with each stamp he shared stories that were harder and harder to fathom. Kidnappings. Malnutrition. Malaria. Death. He spoke about the pain of losing children whose lives could be saved for less than $4.
We cried a little. We laughed a little. We hardly noticed dawn arrive.
Christian, the Chinese medicine man, was in between his barefoot clinic in Chicago and his practice in San Marcos. He works in the village hospital and continues to teach the science of medicine in concert with the art of healing. After learning that Godwin had arranged a trip to Chico, he postponed his journey south for the weekend so we could be together.
Christian shared tales in Latin America that I longed to remember. The way time sits still. The way people celebrate what they have, rather than focus on what they do not. The understanding of abundance and generosity that comes so naturally for those people our world calls “poor”.
I asked if there was anything they would like to do while on US soil. After sitting quietly for some time, Godwin said, “I would like to share what is happening in Darfur. I would like my promise to the children to be true, for the world not to forget what is happening there.”
I knew our community would be eager to listen. More than that, I knew something Godwin would later tell me he never dreamed possible; we not only listened - we cared!
After numerous public radio spots and interviews with newspapers we had a party. Godwin and Christian got to meet, literally, dozens of people that are working to help others around the globe.
They met local independent business owner, Sherry Holbrook who supports an orphanage in Zambia. They met former swim instructor, Shirley Adams, who builds water-wells in developing countries. They met Manoah Mohanraj, a local public health manager, who also runs an orphanage in Southern India. They met a room full of Enloe Hospital’s doctors and nurse practitioners that travel around the world providing medical care -folks that care so deeply about out brothers and sisters around the world. They also met handfuls of community members who support causes here, at home.
As the weekend came to an end, Godwin and Christian walked up to me and said, “We know now.”
“What’s that?” I replied.
“Of all the places in the world you’ve been, we now know why you decided to make Chico home.”
[Published in the Upstate Business Journal, Sept. 09]
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
It's Not a Gay Issue
By, Alexa Valavanis
In a small rural town called Chico, California, about a 100 people gathered to support, protest, celebrate or mourn the California Supreme Court ruling on Proposition 8. I was there. So were many of my dear friends and colleagues. The relentless Northern California sun welcomed the rally's participants. The summer's modest afternoon traffic trickled by. The University students were long gone, and local pub patrons had just begun to tiptoe into their venues of choice. Presenters from as far away as Utah took the newly renovated city plaza stage to share their stories; their particular vantage point about this day - on this day.
However, for me, it started many months before.
It was clear autumn night, on the fourth day of November, two-thousand and eight. Unprecedented numbers of Americans waited in stretched lines to cast their votes, many young and old, engaging in our political process for the first time. As the sun bid farewell to the day and the electors began casting their golden votes, here at home and around the globe, people paused to listen. If you were quiet enough you could actually hear “hope” bounce around the atmosphere; like the sound of a sunrise or the first bloom after a long winter.
Many believe Senator Obama took the White House by a national mandate, commingling the old and predictable map of red and blue states into a sea of purple. A sea made up of people of all colors, religions, sexual orientations, politics and views. Yet, they had one history-making commonality on that November night. They chose an intellectual who wouldn’t shy away from being intelligent to appeal to the average. They chose a man encouraging unity not division; a leader promoting hope and not fear.
For many Obama embodies change. He stands where he stands today as a black man, not because he is black. I echo the thoughts of so many others when I say, he inspires me. I am even prouder today to be an American than I have been for the past thirty-two years.
Yet, amid all of this light there was a shadow on that cloudless day.
On the very same ballot that illustrated the pinnacle of change for a nation that once allowed slavery of a people based on the color of their skin, and denied equal rights to fifty percent of its population because of their gender - our largest state voted “yes” on a proposition of discrimination.
The most painful factor regarding the passing of Proposition 8 is not simply the narrow margin that it passed by but the untruths and lies that drove people to “yes”.
Simply put, there is no correlation between protecting the right of gays to marry and new curriculum in schools. None. They used our children to get their “yes”. They misled our parents to get their "yes". There is no correlation between protecting the rights of gays to marry and the tax-exempt status of our churches. None. They used and misled people of faith to get their “yes”.
Moreover, how can two citizens of the same state have different rights under the same constitution? We certainly can not give the majority a way to discriminate against a minority through ballot measures. James Madison articulated it best in the Federalist Paper 51, when he wrote, "It is of great importance in a republic not only to guard the society against the oppression of its rulers but to guard one part of the society against the injustice of the other part. If a majority be united by a common interest, the rights of the minority will be insecure.”
Fortunately, our courts are here to protect minorities against the unfair will of majorities, if and when needed. Will they get this right eventually? We know that even the highest court of our land ruled on the wrong side of equality at one time. In 1857 when the US Supreme Court, led by Chief Justice Robert B. Taney, declare that all blacks – slaves as well as free – were not and could not become citizens of the United States. But, they found their way to justice eventually.
Still, even with my quiet faith that equality will prevail - I am perplexed.
Many people Obama’s camp rallied to vote on this historic Election Day, voted “yes for equality” at the top of the ticket, and “yes to discrimination” at the bottom of the ticket. Many of whom, know the plight of discrimination intimately. Must we learn each lesson of equality separately? Must we ourselves be discriminated against before we can rise up to fight for others?
If we’ve learned as a nation that separate is not equal, then why must we try and apply this broken logic again in pointing to civil unions as the solution to denying one group of citizens the right other citizens have. Equality does not have degrees; it either is or is not equal.
There will be a day when the children of this state look back and are amazed by the institutionalized inequality and discrimination that once existed in this land. Until that day, everyone who believes in equality must stand up and fight for it. This is not a gay issue this is a human rights issue.
[Originally Published on ChicoSol.org; Syndicated on Newamericamedia.com]
In a small rural town called Chico, California, about a 100 people gathered to support, protest, celebrate or mourn the California Supreme Court ruling on Proposition 8. I was there. So were many of my dear friends and colleagues. The relentless Northern California sun welcomed the rally's participants. The summer's modest afternoon traffic trickled by. The University students were long gone, and local pub patrons had just begun to tiptoe into their venues of choice. Presenters from as far away as Utah took the newly renovated city plaza stage to share their stories; their particular vantage point about this day - on this day.
However, for me, it started many months before.
It was clear autumn night, on the fourth day of November, two-thousand and eight. Unprecedented numbers of Americans waited in stretched lines to cast their votes, many young and old, engaging in our political process for the first time. As the sun bid farewell to the day and the electors began casting their golden votes, here at home and around the globe, people paused to listen. If you were quiet enough you could actually hear “hope” bounce around the atmosphere; like the sound of a sunrise or the first bloom after a long winter.
Many believe Senator Obama took the White House by a national mandate, commingling the old and predictable map of red and blue states into a sea of purple. A sea made up of people of all colors, religions, sexual orientations, politics and views. Yet, they had one history-making commonality on that November night. They chose an intellectual who wouldn’t shy away from being intelligent to appeal to the average. They chose a man encouraging unity not division; a leader promoting hope and not fear.
For many Obama embodies change. He stands where he stands today as a black man, not because he is black. I echo the thoughts of so many others when I say, he inspires me. I am even prouder today to be an American than I have been for the past thirty-two years.
Yet, amid all of this light there was a shadow on that cloudless day.
On the very same ballot that illustrated the pinnacle of change for a nation that once allowed slavery of a people based on the color of their skin, and denied equal rights to fifty percent of its population because of their gender - our largest state voted “yes” on a proposition of discrimination.
The most painful factor regarding the passing of Proposition 8 is not simply the narrow margin that it passed by but the untruths and lies that drove people to “yes”.
Simply put, there is no correlation between protecting the right of gays to marry and new curriculum in schools. None. They used our children to get their “yes”. They misled our parents to get their "yes". There is no correlation between protecting the rights of gays to marry and the tax-exempt status of our churches. None. They used and misled people of faith to get their “yes”.
Moreover, how can two citizens of the same state have different rights under the same constitution? We certainly can not give the majority a way to discriminate against a minority through ballot measures. James Madison articulated it best in the Federalist Paper 51, when he wrote, "It is of great importance in a republic not only to guard the society against the oppression of its rulers but to guard one part of the society against the injustice of the other part. If a majority be united by a common interest, the rights of the minority will be insecure.”
Fortunately, our courts are here to protect minorities against the unfair will of majorities, if and when needed. Will they get this right eventually? We know that even the highest court of our land ruled on the wrong side of equality at one time. In 1857 when the US Supreme Court, led by Chief Justice Robert B. Taney, declare that all blacks – slaves as well as free – were not and could not become citizens of the United States. But, they found their way to justice eventually.
Still, even with my quiet faith that equality will prevail - I am perplexed.
Many people Obama’s camp rallied to vote on this historic Election Day, voted “yes for equality” at the top of the ticket, and “yes to discrimination” at the bottom of the ticket. Many of whom, know the plight of discrimination intimately. Must we learn each lesson of equality separately? Must we ourselves be discriminated against before we can rise up to fight for others?
If we’ve learned as a nation that separate is not equal, then why must we try and apply this broken logic again in pointing to civil unions as the solution to denying one group of citizens the right other citizens have. Equality does not have degrees; it either is or is not equal.
There will be a day when the children of this state look back and are amazed by the institutionalized inequality and discrimination that once existed in this land. Until that day, everyone who believes in equality must stand up and fight for it. This is not a gay issue this is a human rights issue.
[Originally Published on ChicoSol.org; Syndicated on Newamericamedia.com]
Saturday, March 1, 2008
A Trademark on Morals
A friend of mine wrote an article this morning in our daily paper illustrating the conundrum of morality without faith. This is an interesting contention and one that has been extensively explored; nevertheless, I thought I'd bite.
yes, that's right, if "Good is God's",
and, "God is Good"
- what about evil?
The word “altruism” emerged nearly two hundred years after the word “philanthropy.”
But, we can’t forget Machiavelli alone, influenced Hobbes, Locke, Rousseau, Mill, Kant, Hegel, Marx, Nietzsche and Dewey in regard to virtue – so, ‘tis a courtesy bow and we are moving on…
If Good is God’s, and we are of God, than we must be good; therefore free-will would not be free-will but ordained-will.
"O.k. you can go into the candy store and pick out one candy, absolutely any candy, but just one.” And, then after the child has thought long and hard about it, and has finally made a decision, saying to her,
“Oh, no sweetie, any candy but that one.”
Good is not God's alone even if God is Absolute Good.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Human Warming
Giving from Shanghai to Guatemala to Chico
By, Alexa Leigh Valavanis
Shortly after the 21st century arrived I accepted a job across the ocean, on the central coast of China. The destination was a booming metropolis called Shanghai. At the time, Thomas Friedman’s book, “The World is Flat” hadn’t been released, and there were only a couple of places amid the bustling Shanghainese vendors to buy Big Macs (McDonalds) and Caramel Macchiatos (Starbucks). The prime-time reality show “Survivor” wasn’t there yet, nor was the National Basketball Association’s preseason. In fact, when I landed in the ‘Paris of the East’ the Canadian dollar was as it always had been – behind ours, and our Nation was not at war.
It felt like a different time.
I was just leaving the coveted shelter of academia, with a bachelor’s degree in communications and a four-year career as a “Wildcat” point-guard under my belt. Up to that point in my life, I’d had very little time to experience other cultures, contemplate globalization, glean the realities of poverty, or examine the morality of actions – as individuals and world citizens.
That would change.
After I finished a year in China working for International Kindergartens I took to travel. I journeyed throughout Southeast Asia to villages in Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. In small doses I began to absorb the reality about the way most of the people on the planet lived – or survived. I became bound by the moral and ethical obligations I learned as a child, yet only then could begin to grasp. Throughout those first years abroad, I listened and learned about the abundance generated through simplicity and gratitude.
Asia broke wide-open a new hunger for humanity within me. I found my way to Central America where my heart was pulled to work. The lessons in this ancient Latin land echoed those of Asia yet were wrapped in very different colors, flavors and sounds. In Guatemala, I established a nonprofit foundation with a Nigerian doctor and three colleagues. Our foundation would strive to redefine the role, impact and sustainability of foreign-aid.
The highlands of Guatemala held me. The people overflowed with generosity and grace. During the next couple of years, I would travel throughout Nicaragua and El Salvador and be met with similar lessons in patience, compassion, and above all else, generosity.
The more I experienced there - the more I shared here. What resulted was an immense outpouring of compassion and eagerness from people who wanted to get engaged. When others heard about the challenges, injustices, or disasters facing their global neighbors they were moved to help; compelled by their internal compasses to do something.
Some people sent money while others prayed. Some people committed to our cause while others volunteered for new projects at home. But, overwhelmingly people met the needs with actions. It was then, that my belief in the power of philanthropy was solidified. Moreover, it was in these days that my understanding of human connectedness took root.
Today, we live in an interdependent world. One nation’s struggles deeply impact the rest of us. We are all vulnerable to changes in climate, the spread of disease and terrorist threats. We are more intertwined than ever before. Technology has bridged the natural divides and generated interconnectedness on a profound level.
We see each other. We hear each other. We impact each other.
Everyday I see evidence of this connectedness and the vast generosity of human-beings. People around the globe, and certainly here at home, are eager to help when they learn how they can make a difference. The statistics are staggering. Seventy percent of American households give some money to charity each year. In 2006, Americans gave almost two percent of our Gross Domestic Product (nearly $300 billion) to places of worship, emergency relief or to meet local community needs.
Philanthropy is becoming more and more hands on. People not only want to give, they want to do more of it. They want to share that experience with their family and friends. The great challenge is not in convincing people to give, but sharing with them a genuine opportunity to be effective.
Contemporary philanthropy is coining new phrases like ‘social entrepreneurship’ and ‘return on social investments’ for a reason. The standards for philanthropy are rising. Expectations are increasing. Transparency is a mandate, and accountably a must. Our billionaires are giving, our millionaires are giving, and the woman across the street that lived modestly her entire life - is giving to make our world better.
For the past three years I’ve had the privilege of working here, in Northern California as the CEO of the North Valley Community Foundation. I’ve witnessed firsthand the generosity of our local residents. Together, we are creating new ways to address the pressing social needs facing our communities. We are developing innovative strategies to mobilize resources to meet those needs, and achieve measured results. Our method is a hands-on, heart and mind approach to change. I am grateful for the opportunity to be part of it.
The more I experience and engage in philanthropy, the more inspired I become. It doesn’t matter what you call it or how you do it, there is no doubt that people are engaged in GIVING. Here and around the globe – people are GIVING. Perhaps, more than ever before, there is a movement of organized and effective generosity.
I call it, human warming!
[Published November 2007, UpState Business Journal]
By, Alexa Leigh Valavanis
Shortly after the 21st century arrived I accepted a job across the ocean, on the central coast of China. The destination was a booming metropolis called Shanghai. At the time, Thomas Friedman’s book, “The World is Flat” hadn’t been released, and there were only a couple of places amid the bustling Shanghainese vendors to buy Big Macs (McDonalds) and Caramel Macchiatos (Starbucks). The prime-time reality show “Survivor” wasn’t there yet, nor was the National Basketball Association’s preseason. In fact, when I landed in the ‘Paris of the East’ the Canadian dollar was as it always had been – behind ours, and our Nation was not at war.
It felt like a different time.
I was just leaving the coveted shelter of academia, with a bachelor’s degree in communications and a four-year career as a “Wildcat” point-guard under my belt. Up to that point in my life, I’d had very little time to experience other cultures, contemplate globalization, glean the realities of poverty, or examine the morality of actions – as individuals and world citizens.
That would change.
After I finished a year in China working for International Kindergartens I took to travel. I journeyed throughout Southeast Asia to villages in Vietnam, Laos and Thailand. In small doses I began to absorb the reality about the way most of the people on the planet lived – or survived. I became bound by the moral and ethical obligations I learned as a child, yet only then could begin to grasp. Throughout those first years abroad, I listened and learned about the abundance generated through simplicity and gratitude.
Asia broke wide-open a new hunger for humanity within me. I found my way to Central America where my heart was pulled to work. The lessons in this ancient Latin land echoed those of Asia yet were wrapped in very different colors, flavors and sounds. In Guatemala, I established a nonprofit foundation with a Nigerian doctor and three colleagues. Our foundation would strive to redefine the role, impact and sustainability of foreign-aid.
The highlands of Guatemala held me. The people overflowed with generosity and grace. During the next couple of years, I would travel throughout Nicaragua and El Salvador and be met with similar lessons in patience, compassion, and above all else, generosity.
The more I experienced there - the more I shared here. What resulted was an immense outpouring of compassion and eagerness from people who wanted to get engaged. When others heard about the challenges, injustices, or disasters facing their global neighbors they were moved to help; compelled by their internal compasses to do something.
Some people sent money while others prayed. Some people committed to our cause while others volunteered for new projects at home. But, overwhelmingly people met the needs with actions. It was then, that my belief in the power of philanthropy was solidified. Moreover, it was in these days that my understanding of human connectedness took root.
Today, we live in an interdependent world. One nation’s struggles deeply impact the rest of us. We are all vulnerable to changes in climate, the spread of disease and terrorist threats. We are more intertwined than ever before. Technology has bridged the natural divides and generated interconnectedness on a profound level.
We see each other. We hear each other. We impact each other.
Everyday I see evidence of this connectedness and the vast generosity of human-beings. People around the globe, and certainly here at home, are eager to help when they learn how they can make a difference. The statistics are staggering. Seventy percent of American households give some money to charity each year. In 2006, Americans gave almost two percent of our Gross Domestic Product (nearly $300 billion) to places of worship, emergency relief or to meet local community needs.
Philanthropy is becoming more and more hands on. People not only want to give, they want to do more of it. They want to share that experience with their family and friends. The great challenge is not in convincing people to give, but sharing with them a genuine opportunity to be effective.
Contemporary philanthropy is coining new phrases like ‘social entrepreneurship’ and ‘return on social investments’ for a reason. The standards for philanthropy are rising. Expectations are increasing. Transparency is a mandate, and accountably a must. Our billionaires are giving, our millionaires are giving, and the woman across the street that lived modestly her entire life - is giving to make our world better.
For the past three years I’ve had the privilege of working here, in Northern California as the CEO of the North Valley Community Foundation. I’ve witnessed firsthand the generosity of our local residents. Together, we are creating new ways to address the pressing social needs facing our communities. We are developing innovative strategies to mobilize resources to meet those needs, and achieve measured results. Our method is a hands-on, heart and mind approach to change. I am grateful for the opportunity to be part of it.
The more I experience and engage in philanthropy, the more inspired I become. It doesn’t matter what you call it or how you do it, there is no doubt that people are engaged in GIVING. Here and around the globe – people are GIVING. Perhaps, more than ever before, there is a movement of organized and effective generosity.
I call it, human warming!
[Published November 2007, UpState Business Journal]
Tuesday, January 2, 2007
Time
Northern California Coast
I awoke this morning to a pearly grey dawn. For a moment the breeze held her breath and I heard the massive ball of flames rise above the horizon. One of the many forgotten priviledges of waking up on this part of the globe is the uninterrupted passage of time. Our hours aren't filled with bombings and bloodshed, hungry cries and human tragedy. Our minutes free from the search for shelter, food and safety. As the ancient war in the Middle East sheds new colors of red, I pray for peace.
A. Leigh
I awoke this morning to a pearly grey dawn. For a moment the breeze held her breath and I heard the massive ball of flames rise above the horizon. One of the many forgotten priviledges of waking up on this part of the globe is the uninterrupted passage of time. Our hours aren't filled with bombings and bloodshed, hungry cries and human tragedy. Our minutes free from the search for shelter, food and safety. As the ancient war in the Middle East sheds new colors of red, I pray for peace.
A. Leigh
Eternal
I found myself inside a gentle morning in November. Dawn and the cloudless sky above stood witness. My thoughts were tied to the tranquility of the surroundings. The trees wore twenty-seven shades of green. I heard nothing but silence and silence whispered back to me, quietly. My eyes found invisible doorways to ancient times, as I walked and walked, and the sunlight cast deep shadows on to the mountainsides of San Lorenzo, Guatemala.
The journey was a peaceful transition into the lazy afternoon, for even the bird's were slow to stir. So, you might image, when the unfamiliar stare appeared so abruptly in my path my mind was hesitant to digest the interruption.
His darkness frightened me. We stood there connected by the blade of his machete against my neck and the matching color of our eyes.
The quiet air held our breaths as we exchanged sudden movements atop the hillside. I heard distant screams and cries only later to realize they were my own.
It was a violent collision of our birthed realities. His dark skin carrying the burden of hunger and pain; my white skin reflecting all that was opposite his oppression.
Face to face, we stood divided.
Yet, I knew somehow, if either of us were to escape that dark abyss, we would be bound by light eternal.
A. Leigh
The journey was a peaceful transition into the lazy afternoon, for even the bird's were slow to stir. So, you might image, when the unfamiliar stare appeared so abruptly in my path my mind was hesitant to digest the interruption.
His darkness frightened me. We stood there connected by the blade of his machete against my neck and the matching color of our eyes.
The quiet air held our breaths as we exchanged sudden movements atop the hillside. I heard distant screams and cries only later to realize they were my own.
It was a violent collision of our birthed realities. His dark skin carrying the burden of hunger and pain; my white skin reflecting all that was opposite his oppression.
Face to face, we stood divided.
Yet, I knew somehow, if either of us were to escape that dark abyss, we would be bound by light eternal.
A. Leigh
when an instant became infinity
i get so excited jumping from one cloud to the next my eyes change colors, believe me, i checked once. and, sometimes i spend the entire day following the footprints of raindrops or chasing the shadows of bluebirds - i don't even stop when my head starts to tingle and i think i might faint. sometimes the colors get so vibrant and intense they get all blurred together in my mind, but me too sometimes. and, sometimes when i shut off the lights i glow in the dark, you'd have to sleep over to know it's true. sometimes i don't even have time to explain it all because i'm racing falling stars, from one to another to forever, and i can't stop until i get there. sometimes everything smells like honey and tastes like caramel...and the moon spoons my soul before i fall asleep. sometimes it feels like magic. not like rabbit and the hat kinda magic, but magic magic. and sometimes, i think if i were to grasp even a teeny tiny glimpse of 'it all' i would instantly dissolve into light, which might be the trick; finding the moment with an instant becomes infinity. i think that's when butterflies get their designs, and ladybugs their dots, and humans their souls, maybe, but who knows for sure? sometimes it's so perfect i know for certain i have wings and can fly... because mosquitoes can fly and they bite... i don't even bite. sometimes i really like the colors here, and my senses turn into gigantic crayons and i walk the sidewalks in zig-zags painting the clouds in lavender and red. and, sometimes it feels silly to wait for anything - when i can breathe deeply and wade through it all -- even the big stuff that makes me feel so small.
A. Leigh
A. Leigh
Fields of Green
He woke in a field of green with the soft concentration of the Latin sun against his back. The generous shade from the glossy coffee leaves dangled overhead and provided a subtle transition from his dreams to his day. The world was quiet save a few morning birds, as the final dew drops whispered on their ascent back to heaven. His hands were stained from yesterday’s labor. His jeans and shirt resembled the earth he worked inside. His teeth were dirty. His feet were sore. His morning thoughts still caught in the dream he’d had each night for the past two years.
In his dream, he walked for miles until he reached his village. It was here, where his wife and children worked to keep their modest hut, from tin-roof to dirt floor, clean and ready for papa’s return. He stepped onto the porch and the familiar smell of homemade tortillas and chicken soup dropped him to his knees. It had been too many days and nights of longing to let go of standing up. In the dream, his children wore clean clothing and smiles as they shared stories from school. He looked outside and noticed even the old avocado tree, which stood bent outside the kitchen window for decades, had a youthful sway. They ate and laughed, and carried on as the crescent moon begged for their attention. He told his family memories collected from the coffee fields; about the ripening fruits he named one-by-one in hopes their harvest would bring him home. They listened to their papa until the warm night bowed her head to dawn.
It was this sunrise which found him still, asleep beneath the coffee leaves, without his family or the youthful sway of the avocado tree. He looked up at the open sky, hung above Guatemala’s Highlands, and offered his daily promise to his wife and children. It was the promise of returning home with enough money for food and school for his babies - perhaps, a new life where they could welcome each sunrise together. Until then…he would work each day and hold them in his dreams each night.
Inspired by Juan Antonio – Coffee Field Worker in Fraijanes, Guatemala
A. Leigh
In his dream, he walked for miles until he reached his village. It was here, where his wife and children worked to keep their modest hut, from tin-roof to dirt floor, clean and ready for papa’s return. He stepped onto the porch and the familiar smell of homemade tortillas and chicken soup dropped him to his knees. It had been too many days and nights of longing to let go of standing up. In the dream, his children wore clean clothing and smiles as they shared stories from school. He looked outside and noticed even the old avocado tree, which stood bent outside the kitchen window for decades, had a youthful sway. They ate and laughed, and carried on as the crescent moon begged for their attention. He told his family memories collected from the coffee fields; about the ripening fruits he named one-by-one in hopes their harvest would bring him home. They listened to their papa until the warm night bowed her head to dawn.
It was this sunrise which found him still, asleep beneath the coffee leaves, without his family or the youthful sway of the avocado tree. He looked up at the open sky, hung above Guatemala’s Highlands, and offered his daily promise to his wife and children. It was the promise of returning home with enough money for food and school for his babies - perhaps, a new life where they could welcome each sunrise together. Until then…he would work each day and hold them in his dreams each night.
Inspired by Juan Antonio – Coffee Field Worker in Fraijanes, Guatemala
A. Leigh
New Year
The right hand of the God has appeared extending the gift of a New Year.
May you keep time by the songs you sing, and dance wild with the heavens and seas. May the open sky offer you tranquility and the white moon, rock you to sleep. May you rename the world with your grace and light, so you may be called 'day' and your lover the 'night'.
A. Leigh
May you keep time by the songs you sing, and dance wild with the heavens and seas. May the open sky offer you tranquility and the white moon, rock you to sleep. May you rename the world with your grace and light, so you may be called 'day' and your lover the 'night'.
A. Leigh
Thirty-Three
As I breathe in Belize I relinquish the impetus to cling to familiar. Drifting here - thirty-three shades of green staring back at me through the bus window. The humidity reminding me I am alive. I can't say with any definitive certainty where I come from nor where I will arrive. The river bends around my fingers. The banana leaves and palm trees stand still against the sky, shouting 'Gracias A Dios".
All I can think of is a softer world; one where suffering fades like the stars into a cloudy night; where equality and integrity drive the social engine. And that's all crazy, that's crazy right?
Today, on this 16-hour journey from here to there, sitting beside strangers who feel familiar, holding familiarities that now somehow feel strange - I think I'll choose this dream for awhile. We are more than a collection of staggering minutes in the same hour. Today if never again, let time be witness to change, even if only for the revolution in my mind.
I offer this prayer to the Caribbean sea...
I offer this prayer to the Caribbean sea...
"Might we all have days when we lose ourselves so completely that we find ourselves anew, awake and alive; willing to offer love and grace to all those who cross our paths."
A. Leigh
A. Leigh
Saturday, February 2, 2002
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
