thefutureisred

Give Me Butterfly Wings: I Needed A Big Blog Break

Photo by e3000               

Sometimes death teaches more about life than what's on my computer.

After almost four months without a word from me, it's time to answer those gentle nudges of "Where are you?" What's going on with your blog?" I've been getting.

First, again, thank you for asking. I am grateful and, as they say, humbled that not only do people actually read this little red thing of mine, but even notice when it's gone. 

But it needed to be. It has become abundantly clear that I needed to focus on my non-blog life. 

The Catalyst

Or should I say catalysts, because it's rarely just one thing that causes change in our lives.

This past July while in New York, we learned from a friend of ours in Bocas del Toro that our old landlord Cher, a really lovely woman, had been murdered. By a serial killer. It almost sounds like a joke, but clearly, it's not funny. Not in the least.

Then, when I got back to Argentina after Burning Man, I learned that another friend of ours from Salta, Diego, had also been murdered. I don't really understand what happened. Apart from some vague intimations about it being a gay-related crime, that the murderer was an exotic dancer.... Quite frankly, that's when I stopped listening. Those details aren't the core of the matter. It is more that a really decent person is now dead for no reason at all.

It really fucks with a girl's head, you know?

I Wanted To Blog, I Really Did But...

I stopped writing soon after I heard about Cher's murder. Since then, the idea of writing about what was going on in my head just felt wrong, but to write about something else seemed forced and a waste of my time. I’d rather paint with Lila or hang with Noah or do something altogether different.

So that's what I did.

I Don't Want To Be Too Late For What's Most Important

With all the traveling, running around, trying to develop programs, meeting people and posting, I felt I never had time for anything. My life too often felt like a massive unfinished to-do list and I was always working to reach a constantly moving horizon.

If I continued like that, I would miss out on my real world. So I had to let go of the online world for a while.

My hits were at an all time high when I stopped writing, and I’ve watched them fall, fall fall, as well as watched how my connections with many of the people I know online have faded. That has been hard to see.

But I had intended give Diego a call and get together sometime, soon. By the time I got around to it, I was too late. I don't want to say the same about Lila or Noah or the other people who are most important to me. I want to be truly present in their lives and mine.

Making A Commitment To Real Life & Community

This week, Noah and I will sign the papers to buy a house here in Salta. It will be our home, yes, but it will also be a community center for traveling artists, writers and teachers. (And will be filmed for an upcoming episode of House Hunters International. We're even flying to NY in February to do some filming there.)

 

So far, we’ve formed connections with local universities and non-profit organizations. We plan to use the internet and social media as a tool to connect students between countries, allowing them to share their work with each other as well as with bring in international artists, writers and photographers, travelers and educators.

The goal of our program, though, goes beyond a creative exchange to an initiative to teach English, keep students in school and ultimately improve their economic prospects by connecting them with an international community.

We just finished our first semester working with 12 year olds at the experimental high school that is a part of the Universidad Nacional de Salta (la UNSa). Next year, we’ll work with the same group of students, incorporate online and gallery exhibitions of art and photography and are working to begin teaching at the two local universities of Salta.

Does This Mean We Will Be In Salta Forever?

It is unsettling to think of being settled. It is overwhelming, too, to commit to one place after being on the move for almost five years.

The underlying assumption of our program is that since it is based on the people, the needs and the soul of Salta, it will not need us permanently to continue growing. We are here until our work here is finished;then we will move on. 

Paper Mache Butterfly Wings and Walks By the River

Along the way of designing the project, I stopped to design paper mache butterfly wings with Lila. We picked dandelions by the side of the river flowing near our house. I stepped away from the to-do long enough to start weekly belly dancing classes with a really fabulous teacher. Someone who will be teaching as part of our community center.

And maybe, just maybe, I've learned a bit to accept that the most important thing I want to realize in this life of mine is how to be patient and not be too attached to any one outcome, because the bottom line is you never know what happens next.

How To Teach Responsibility To A Child

Perhaps a small stuffed cat doesn't seem very important in the grand scheme of parenting, yet for me, the mother of an only child, it takes on huge significance.

Last week, the three of us -- Noah, Lila and myself -- went to the supermarket.  Lila, admittedly because she was hungry, freaked out and had the first tantrum she’s had in as long as I can remember. We left.

Soon after, Lila turned to me and asked, “Where’s Susanna?”

Susanna is her little toy cat. She got it in a Cajita Feliz at McDonalds a few weeks earlier and they two fell in love with eqch other. Lila tucked Susanna in bed at night, took her to school, carried her in the car and everywhere else she went in her little llama handbag.

We went back to the store to search. Went back again this weekend, but Susanna was no where to be found.

She is gone, probably forever.

Lila has lots of questions, of course. What happened to her? Where did she go? Did someone else take her? Will I ever get her back?

I don't have answers to any of these questions.

Then comes the question for which I do have an answer. In fact, as the parent, I entirely control the outcome.  “Can we go back to McDonalds to get another Susanna?”

One the one hand: It’s Lila’s responsibility to take care of the toys she chooses to bring with her to the supermarket or wherever we go. Normally, she doesn’t lose them and is very good at keeping track. Her tantrum, I'm sure, has a lot to do with why Susanna was lost. She was too busy screaming to realize her beloved cat fell out of her bag.

Wouldn't buying a new one be in some ways, allowing her avoid responsibility for her actions? Would we in some way be saying tantrums are acceptable?

Beyond that, loss is a part of life, and not everything is replaceable. In fact, the most important things in life are not. Would we be doing Lila a huge disservice in quickly ending her sadness with another toy. This time, it’s easy. Next time, it may not be so simple.

Noah and I generally choose not to shield Lila from subjects such as death. We do our best to be honest when explaining what happened to our cat Paloma, or Grandma Ruth or why Daddy is sad when we visit Noah's mother in the cemetary.

What do you think?

Photo courtesy of Hitchster's Flickrstream

What is Death To A Four Year Old?

We stopped in Silver Spring, MD on our way to NY, mainly to stop at the cemetary where Noah's mother is buried. We've been to visit three times since Lila was born. More often than we'd been in the ten years prior.

"This is where Daddy's mommy lives," says Lila as we drive into Mount Lebanon on Adelphi Road. She brings tears to my eyes, and I am amazed she remembers from last year.

All three of us stand by the grave. It's one of the few white headstones in the cemetary. On it, there's a tree with five branches -- one for each child she had -- two strong roots and Noah's father's ring embedded in the trunk. The headstone to the left marks the death of a Gertrude. She died on Noah's birthdate. The one to the right belongs to Martin. He died on Noah's older sister's birthday. Coincidence or no, it's creepy.

"Does Daddy's mommy lie down here?" Lila asks.

"She's underneath the stones," we tell her.

"How does she breathe?"

"She doesn't. You don't breath after you die.

Lila repeats these same questions with slight variations over and over.

At one point, she put her hand on Noah's shoulder and reassures him. "I'm going to get you a new mommy."

"You can't just get a new mommy," he tells her. "Can you just replace your mommy?" he asks.

"No," she replies, and I admit, I am mildly relieved.

Then Noah asks for some time to himself, and we go for a walk around the grounds. Lila does not want separate from Noah. She looks back, keeps him in sight at all times and gets anxious when we pass some bushes that obscure him from view. And of course, there are more questions.

Does Daddy miss his mommy?  Do people stick their tongues out when they're dead? Why is Daddy crying? Did Grandma Ruth die too? Followed by a symphony of Whys?

The questions were simple, but the answers are not. Questions humans ask themselves over and over during the course of a lifetime. People have built careers on answering these questions. They are philosophy.

What would you tell her?