The flower and the sidewalk 

Oh, what an early morning waking up to a brand new day, and freshly inspired! And that after a night of a short but deep sleep, an exception in the past few weeks, passing through many threatening insecurities, with few certainties like hope, as I have been travelling through a world afraid of the virus called Corona.

This morning, a Swiss friend posted a comment to a text I had written just yesterday, even earlier in the morning than today. I had met her in a yoga class, a place where I had learned many things, even the most simple, like taking the time and space I need. The text she referred to was called "Legal vacuum, on purpose?" in which I complained about the treatment by my native country, or rather its representative, who had "kicked me out the door", excluded me from my Swiss home, not even because of strict rules, but for lack of a compassionate imagination. And I had found myself without health insurance, nor security for my money and I felt very lost - me, the great spoiled one.

In this comment she wrote, her name is Tania: "courage is paying more attention to possibilities than to doubts". Keep up the good courage!

Thank you, Tania! You have already inspired me. Normally, I would immediately doubt such a saying. I would reply that it would not be so easy, because from time to time visitors like Doubt are very insensitive and do not want to leave when it seems the right time. And I cannot throw a visitor out on the street, even if the visitor is unpleasant, because I am a weak man, perhaps too kind, or perhaps I lack the judgement to distinguish good from bad. I am a confused soul.

But this morning the unpleasant visitor had already evaporated of his own or anyone else's will, and the visitors Hope and Courage were already sitting next to me when I woke up. I was already inspired. I thought of the flower of imagination, and the sidewalk of appreciation of differences. I thought of the insensitivity of concrete and the powerful fantasy of the dandelion, a flower so strong, that it is breaking even the most stubborn concrete with its sensitive intelligence and its longing for sunlight.

I am already very happy to find the concrete, including my own thinking, so that the flower of imagination may grow in my mind. And I hope that some more trains will stop, from the places called Hope and Fantasy. And as station manager I will give these trains the priority to enter and stop, and rest for a while, with pleasure and joy. And I am going to distribute the products that sometimes arrive on these trains so that they continue to other places that may need them, the very precious products of Hope and Imagination.

I am very happy with this work, and I am not so bothered by the visitors Doubt and Despair. I am going to serve them what they ask for, and I hope that they will leave again in good time.

An important reason why I came to Xela is its very different and creative sidewalks. Thank you very much for having taught me the value of what is different and imperfect! I hope that the sometimes narrow and high sidewalks will remain imperfect a little longer and not be standardized, that even a rich long boy and a poor short girl can hug each other without worrying. Sidewalks that inspire me the value of the imperfect, and the price of the perfect.

I often think about the fears and worries that we human beings cultivate, which bother us so much, especially in these times of the coronavirus, as we have never been touched by anything like this in our lives that are so long and yet so short. But I always think that this nightmare has to be changed. And I think that for a long time now I have been saddened by what we human beings do, with our hands and our minds. And I have tried to find a way out of the human conflict, and I have never succeeded. When I think about it I realize that my little brain and my own thoughts are simply not enough.

But when I look at my thoughts and the thoughts of others I realise that they are not only my own, they are thoughts that we are all sharing, just ordering and prioritising them in our own special way, according to our own point of view. But it can be changed because we have legs, which have given us such an abundant life or perspective. And I hope that we don't use them just to kick down the gas of our big cars. And that we use them to warm ourselves, even our hands, working in perhaps a little traditional ways instead of just moving keys like I do, even now, as often, out of desperation and hope.

Listening to all those voices, I realized again that maybe we were wrong about one little idea. It is the one of death, it is the one of the end of something so beautiful and sometimes heavy that is the life of a human being, with brains, intestines, legs and hands. And I noticed that we are sharing life with everything that exists in the Universe, and I was thinking about the trees, the plants, and the animals. And I started to understand, that maybe they don't want their role in this world anymore, and that every being tries to become human with such tools that seem so powerful. And I realized that maybe it is no longer fashionable to enjoy a life as trees live it. And I thought that I could pacify human conflict a little bit, and ask God to give me the life of a tree.

But I feel a great sadness, thinking about losing my friends and brothers, and so I ask Him to find a little place, where my work as a tree is appreciated, even that she can sit on my strong roots, protected under my branches full of small leaves, playing with colours according to the season and the wind, and that she can cry very close to me and find great comfort in the realisation that nothing has been lost, only changed, to reveal life and keep it alive, so that the idea of eternal love, which is shown in so many beautiful forms, can be reborn. You only look at nature.

And I find comfort and joy in this idea. And more so because I heard that trees have many mysterious ways to communicate, more than we still know, and that is why a tree in Switzerland could also greet an old friend who would miss me. That I could send him a message through the mysterious mail of the roots, of the fungi and of the earth and water, even through the air and the wind. And the stars that are watching everything and balancing everything. And I hope that even the stars will be seen better again. Even I don't look at them much, not only because of my misty eyes blinded by the smoke from our careless hands, but also because of my confused mind. I hope that it will get better soon under such a close sky here on the Altiplano of Guatelinda. Close to the fire of the earth.

But I also ask, as I am human, to let me live for a little while longer as a human being and to use the inspired thoughts to share ideas that could serve us humans and all beings, to get out of the conflict since a long time, maybe since God has started to think the idea of the human being, sovereign of this Earth full of so many wonders, because he was looking for a way not only to create the beautiful but also to realize that it is so beautiful. And every time I hear the name "Jehovah's Witness", I think of God's Witness and I think it's a good name. But it's just my name, because I'm witnessing the mysteries of the universe, even if I don't understand it, but I have confidence, in my brain that it's part of a bigger one, in my hands and my legs that they want to do things, and I hope that they are in sync with God's will, of a God that I don't know, but I find in everything that I look at, I fear and I admire.

I think this is the only thing we humans can do, to be responsible with our hands and minds, because they are always the hands and minds of God. The greatest servant, perhaps an immense mysterious emptiness and we who fill it with meaning.

Thanks to Guatelinda who has inspired me so much. I hope very much that I can share my reborn and renewed love, with all my world. And I hope that my hands and mind will always be corrected wherever we meet and share, and it seems necessary, like my teachers here in Guate. Thank you very much my sisters and brothers. I am very happy to know you all. I love it,

Thank God, whoever or whatever we call him. Thanks to the flowers and the sidewaks of Xela.

PS: I often think that the Universe is like an enormous theatre, a very mysterious staging. I can think of it in the cynical form of the educated and rich being, or appreciate my humble work of cleaning the wood from the stage. It does not matter. It's a great dance, and every now and then we get very tired of our work and ask for our role in the great theatre to be changed, and that we are grateful for the death and farewell to die, as we call it. Something that only human beings can think about, because they have forgotten the mysteries of eternal change, because of the confusion of our thoughts that are so abundant. It seems as if we have lost contact with the director of that great theatre, and I hope that we can use our imagination, which is the daughter of the great hope, since we have forgotten how to use it without materializing it only in smoke and concrete, assuring what cannot be assured. Because exaggerated security is strengthened by the strange idea of death.

Long live hope, long live imagination, and long live the idea of sharing this world. With our firm or weak hands, our minds that seem strong or limited. They are all God's, as I call it. We all share where we come from and where we are going. That is the only thing that is true, and perhaps even that is not certain.

PS2: I am very grateful for electronic communication, even more so in these times, but I want to remind you of the abundance of ways to communicate. Also with God or whoever is for you. Because we are God's daughters and sons and parents always listen to their children, even if it doesn't seem that way from time to time. Even the monologue is shared. God has many ears, ours included.

PS3: I was smoking in the garden where I can sit whenever I want, and I looked at this hummingbird that was flying from one flower to the other. And I thought about the bat that is resting on the biggest tree inside this well cared for little paradise, and about the little gray and white tiger kitten, with a striped tail like a real tiger, a cute one that was adventuring through the bushes, and finally climbed up this tree that reaches the roof, and went somewhere else.

PS4: This is my first text written in Spanish or Castilian, since then when I left my country of birth. It was very difficult, even painful, to translate it into German. Now I understand better the challenges of diplomacy and international communication, and the temptation to make it easier. Here is the German translation: "Die Blume und der Gehsteig"

Book by Eduardo Galeano:
I already understand much better the very appropriate title: "Las venas abiertas de América Latina" (The open veins of Latin America).