Why Cambalacha?

This is an excerpt from my journal entry on the first day of Cambalacha classes in the new year. People write books about Why Art? People write essays on the social power of art. The power of art to change the world. I like to think that I will explore the details, images, colors, and complications of this question as the year continues. For now, this is neither the first page of a book or a well-formed essay. It is a journal entry exploring why I believe in this project -- perhaps just touching the surface of how Gabriela, the founder and director of La Cambalacha, has visioned, dreamed, manifested, written, drawn, built, sung, danced this place into existence. Perhaps just touching the surface of what I will learn and experience and write, paint, dance, sing into existence while I am here. With the collaboration and love of people from all over the world. Some just passing through. Some staying a longer while. This is an excerpt:

Blank pages. How beautiful you are. White. Spacious. Calm. Free. I arrive in this place, San Marcos La Laguna, Guatemala. I arrive. To live. To share. To participate heart and soul in this project Cambalacha that believes in the power of Art to change the world. Living Artfully -- what is this? Cooperating. Listening. Greeting one another with Respect. Love. An Open Heart. Expressing love means dissolving fear -- confronting the fears we have inherited from years of oppression, civil war, violence. Calming the storm in our humans souls with Love -- creating together, sharing together, understanding that we create unnecessary divisions between us -- entre humanos, entre culturas, entre religiones entre culturas, entre razas. El Arte cambia el mundo. This is why we are here, in La Cambalacha, because we believe that the more people close to Art, to the Creative Process, the more peaceful, free, loving this world will be. Breathing, Dancing, Painting, Singing Positive Energy into the world -- sharing especially with children. Seeds of Hope. And we begin each workshop reminding ourselves why we play, why we sing, why we dance and paint and listen to stories and cooperate and express ourselves. Because every time we sing, out heart grows a little bit bigger. And everytime we dance our heart grows a little bit bigger. And everytime we wash ourselves of fear and dare to participate and express ourselves, our heart grows a little bit bigger. And every time we share and laugh and play together, our heart grows a little bit bigger. Until our hearts are "Asi de grande" -- and we draw a heart with our hands. A heart that begins at our fingertips stretching toward the sky and ends where our toes meet the earth. Imagine the life force of a heart this big. Beating. Pulsing. Nourishing the earth and its creatures with oxygen as it pumps and pumps -- hearts resounding together.

May you Walk in Beauty

May you walk in Beauty. So goes the first line of a Native American blessing that made its way into my poetic memory some time ago. As an adolescent trying desperately to fend off the authority of Image and the judgments, mirrors, crash diets, and insecurities that hide in its shadows, I did not understand the depth of this prayer. How is beauty a blessing when the pursuit of external beauty – body, lips, stride, reputation, career choice – is a journey through a briar-patch of self-doubt? Ah, now I understand. This is where you walk away from mirrors and media pressures and other people’s ideas of beauty, fall through the looking glass and re-emerge into a world of extraordinary beings. The same world of billboards and screaming labels and loud noises and violence, but perceived with a new pair of eyes.

Eyes. Prism eyes that carefully tune five sense organs: eyes, ears, nerve-endings, nostrils, lips. Eyes. Eyes of a child who “discovers the beauty of the world every moment again and again.” A new pair of eyes and a restored dedication to consciously recognizing the Beauty and Abundance that Is; a new pair of prism eyes and a rekindled commitment to participating in the Creation of Beauty in spaces where the stars do not shine as brightly. Meeting violence with compassion and love – this is the path King, Gandhi and the Dalai Lama choose. Beauty. Believing in Beauty in spite of the suffering and violence that try to strangle our songs and celebrations and poetry and commitment to life and love. Hope in the face of the fear and deep-seated prejudices that tear us apart. Beauty away from mirrors and magazine covers and accusations and violent television programs that air live on the streets of cities and towns in every nation around the world. Beauty that has the power to heal cold hearts, inspire reconciliation between warring nations, transform dissonance into harmony, help brothers and sisters open up and listen to the morning birds that sing for them. That sing for us.

May you walk in Beauty. Yes, I understand. When you walk in beauty, your heart is open and you believe in the power of love; in the power of compassion. You believe in the power of your actions, your smile, your touch, your dedication to the highs and lows of the human experience. You believe in the power of sharing Beauty and cease to hoard precious jewels that lose their magic when hidden away in a lock-box to gather dust. And because you believe in the power of Beauty you begin to walk with intention, speak with intention, act with intention – energized and awed by the power of your actions to transform, inspire, illuminate. May you walk in Beauty is another way of saying: may you have reason to believe that life is worth living. May you find yourself living moments that inspire you to share and contribute to the happiness of all the creatures you meet along the way. May you always be generous. May you always share your smile. May you always recognize the little wide-eyed-wonders of the world even when professionalism points his finger and calls you unsophisticated. May you walk in Beauty. May we walk in Beauty.

In the Beauty of:
- Washing bright-colored cloth and watching the reds, yellows, greens and blues bleed in a slow spiraling tornado down the drain. Back to the earth.
- Listening to the laughter of two lovers who tattooed their love on their hands. Two lovers who sing hello and goodbye and always steal one last kiss before parting. Listening to the sweet melody of lovers at play with deep appreciation; gratitude – even though I sleep alone.
- Disappearing into the imagery rich mind of a Tibetan woman who sees trees as “the jewelry of the mountains;” and then gazing skyward through the green canopy of the avocado tree.
- Maria. Who greets me with flowers and kisses and a heart of gold; who washes dishes with her hips swaying to the curvy rhythms of salsa. Who calls me sister and receives my love when I do the same, sister.
- Grinding spices with mortar and pestle on a mountaintop with a view that makes you believe you can fly. Working with our hands to create, to nourish, to feed, to share. Grinding there in the shadow of the volcano
- Fuchsia flower petals swirling in a porcelain toilet
- Saying “yes” to invitations that change your plans.
- Ripe red coffee fruits.
- Listening to three grown men sword-fighting with six year-old Lucas just after dinner. Before bedtime Imaginations running wild. Consciously recognizing the Beauty of Play. Vital play.
- Feeling overcome with love for the children of La Cambalacha. Sitting in a circle by the lake painting watercolor images on our arms and ankles -- I paint you, you paint me. I permit you to touch my skin with watercolors. I open, just a little bit. Yes – watching as these budding flowers open little by little. Building confidence among this group learning to express themselves in paint, words, movement, dance, song. An expansive feeling within my heart: wanting deeply to know each and every one of these complex coming-of-age beings. To offer support and love and guidance as they encounter the many tints and shades of life. Looking them in the eye. And writing simply, “This I know: I love.”

I love

I have arrived

"The Life of a Teacher is as important a life as any person may live. Viewed broadly, it is a life of leadership in a world of contradictions and crises. It is a particularly human life, one of total involvement with human beings as they face human questions." Morris Mitchell

I smile at the young woman flipping through her quote book as she realizes why she feels slightly nervous as she steps into her new role as an educator in a multi-faceted, constantly blooming art education project on the shores of one of the world's most extraordinary lakes. San Marcos La Laguna, Solola, Guatemala. This is her home for the next year of her life; the next year of possibly sharing in the creation of something meaningful in a world that daily surprises us with the range of beauty and violence, harmony and dissonance, intention and apathy, awareness and careless breath. Perhaps it is the state of the world that makes her approach this opportunity with suitable concern. Yes, I am talking about myself in third-person. Witnessing myself as a human being from a place outside myself helps me to remain compassionate toward this young woman who is learning. Day by day. Learning. Witnessing myself in this way allows me to admit that I am feeling simultaneously ecstatic and nervous about all this Cambalacha year will be. Simultaneously capable and unprepared. Simultaneously courageous and hesitant.

Jane writes to me this morning and helps me understand from where these contradictory sentiments arise. Her words could not be more pertinent as I sit to attempt articulation, attempt fininte detail, attempt a written expression of the experiences I am living in the first days since my arrival. She sees inside the red walls of my heart -- expanding and contracting, as I encounter the first demon of the journey. A "wailing doubt" that so often arises at the beginning of a journey and causes one to question her ability to do what it is she whole-heartedly wants to do. A "wailing doubt" that interrogates a person's creative energy with judgements of "good" and "bad" and "success" and "failure." "This is the doubt that tempts you to narrow what you see about what you can do or be at La Cambalacha," says Jane. The word "tempt" is key because it signals a release of accountability -- the possibility that one would release herself from the challenge of accountability. Of accountability to herself. Allowing her to fabricate a story that she is really not as creative as the rest and cannot be expected to hold her own amongst a group of such dynamic persons and perhaps she should not hold so much responsibility and ... so on and so forth as the snowball rolls and gathers momentum. This doubt that arises is an obstacle of my mind; a convincing illusion; something I have the fortunate opportunity to encounter with the fierce grace of Kali -- courage, compassion, strength and dedication. I have arrived at La Cambalacha. A community. An art school. A conscious education project that believes in the power of Art to change the world -- one person at a time, one day at a time, one seed at a time, one question at a time, one step at a time. I have arrived. Dancing. Singing. Sewing. Painting. Laughing. Drumming. Singing. Sharing. Creating. Growing. Learning together. I have arrived. Signing a contract for one year of living and breathing children, early mornings, dance floor inventions, middle of the night revelations, hard work, colorful play, coffee harvests, mango feasts, lessons in balance, exploration. I have arrived. Entering into the undulating rhythm of the lake and afternoon winds. Commiting to the constant, thrilling, simultaneouly exhausting and energizing pulse of La Cambalacha. Crystalizing details to follow.

Kundera Quote: Food for Thought

As I logged on to post a few new thoughts, I came upon this entry that I wrote at the beginning of January just before departing for Guatemala. I think it is worth sharing. Milan Kundera has a succinct and powerful way of addressing worthwhile questions -- questions for human mind and heart together. I hope that I cultivate the ability to express succinctly, powerfully, nakedly the images and thoughts that dance around my heart and mind. The ability to be concise is not something that comes naturally to me. So -- here it is, Kundera food for thought. I hope that you are Living far from apathy and boredom. I hope the colors you paint are rich and inspired and passionate. Food for thought:

Excerpt from a Milan Kundera novel, Identity -- featuring two unforgetable characters, Chantal and Jean-Marc, who love each other so passionately, so heatedly that they drive each other mad. Creating a reality so crazy with poetry and mystery and jealousy and red-pulsing love that they cannot turn the lights off to fall asleep for fear of losing one another in some awful dream. A riveting novel. A few days after finishing the novel, I recalled something on page 81 to be soul-moving ... food for thought. And so I record it here -- not to post, to save until it comes up on some interconnected occasion.

They talk about death, about boredom, they drink wine, they laugh, they have a good time, the are happy.

Then Jean-Marc came back to his idea: "I'd say that the quantity of boredom, if boredom is measurable, is much greater today than it once was. Because the old occupations, at least most of them, were unthinkable without a passionate involvement: the peasants in love with their land; my grandfather, the magician of beautiful tables; the shoemakers who knew every villager's feet by heart; the woodsmen; the gardeners; probably even the soldiers killed with passion back then. The meaning of life wasn't an issue, it was there with them, quite naturally, in their workshops, in their fields. Each occupation had created its own mentality, its own way of being. A doctor would think differently from a peasant, a soldier would behave differently from a teacher. Today we're all alike, all of us bound together by our shared apathy toward our work. That very apathy has become a passion. The one great collective passion of our time."

Instinctively, I want to shout out to any soul who feels apathetic about his or her work -- apathy is not living, apathy is not life, leave your apathetic work to discover something that truly lights your fire and makes you burn with inspiration. We are not meant to be apathetic. Perhaps we are not meant to search so hard for "the meaning of life." Life just is ... the meaning is in the bread we bake, the birds we befriend, the laughter we share, the honest work it takes to survive on a planet trying so hard to provide for a population of homo sapiens who all too often forget to be grateful. Sigh. I am glad I will be able to revisit this passage from time to time. Checking in with myself to see if apathy lingers near my life and work from day to day. Checking in with myself to see if I feel inspired, passionate, alive. At this moment, right Now, I am bubbling over with gratitude, joy, and uncontainable inspiration for the journey I am about to make. Cambalacha, Guatemala, here I come. Open-heartedly. To learn, to share, to plant myself heart and soul in the fertile soils of San Marcos La Laguna for the next year. Om.