SIXTH SENDING

Sacred Valley, Peru

familia…

officially it’s winter here right now, though it basically feels like the east bay did a moth ago, warm sunny clear days and chilly nights. the brugmanica tree i fell in love with last october has only a few blooms left on it, but still the wild strange sweetness of it is enough to have me pledging my eternal devotion under the full moon. the sunflower seeds i planted then are now 7 foot tall husks, evidence of some bright expansive blossoming.

something about planting seeds whose flowers you will not get to see.

something about how losing a thing makes you better at making it yourself, finding it another way.

today count em, 4 new children arrived at Casa de Milagros. In all my time here there has never even been one new arrival, nonetheless 4, all biological siblings, aged 3,5, 7 and 8, the two youngest girls and the two eldest boys. When Mama Kia and Marie (her daughter) and Patty were discussing the new arrivals there was in no way a sense of overwhelm or hesitation. When Marie spoke of how they all had rickets from severe malnourishment, her eyes flashed. “This is part of our work, right?” They excitedly discussed how they could get the beds rearranged to make room in the best way for such a shift. These were women filled with the grounded electricity of those doing truly good work, and doing it really really well.

Within ten minutes of arrival, some of the boys here had given the new boys skateboards and were scooting around the playground, not really talking, but very much being together, inclusive. In the younger girls’ room, the smallest, Sofia, was looking around with wide uncertain eyes, as a group of girls all gathered around her, quiet and gentle. Maria Flor, who’s about ten, went up beside her and put her arm around her, touched her hand, encouraged her to eat the apple she had been given. Kia said its always the kids the first day that makes anyone new feel comfortable and welcome. They’ve all been in that same position themselves, they are the ones that know what’s needed.

They take it all in stride. this is your new home, this is your new family, here’s an apple, a skateboard, a whole other life. I suppose it must seem like a strange dream, after only knowing abuse and hunger for the first few years you’re alive. their eyes sparkle, they are so willing to roll with it. what was it i ever thought to complain about? if you want to learn about making family, about making life, hang out with orphans.  Seems like every morning when i go into the kitchen, Kia is on the floor, under the table with Baby Sol, having a picnic or peeking at the big people, laughing away.

Tomorrow i will walk the mile or so along the river and catch the bus into Calca to send this email, on our way back to Hanaq Pacha, Kia’s little retreat center, to work for the week while the kids are in school. This book is shaping itself inside my mind, like a planet evolving from a single celled organism. slowly each layer contracts and expands against the others…it is an alchemical process…there is more than i can possibly fit into one book, so i am sculpting the planet even as it forms, carving away the extraneous bits to reveal some mysterious shape called Story. it is slow work, careful and strange. i am eternally fascinated. Kia has so much to teach us all, sometimes i am almost overwhelmed with the responsibility of doing right by this woman and her fucking unbelievable life. but mostly i am not thinking about myself. and that is such a pleasure.

My time here is too short, but each day is long, rising with the sun, moving slower and accomplishing more. that is how time passes for me in these mountains. gratitude as i go to sleep and again as i awake, with the spiderweb of dreams still clinging to my lashes. when i am not writing, i am singing small songs to the breezes, convincing them to carry this small evidence of my big love to all of you, catching you off guard in an ordinary moment, and the colors deepen, the sun’s warmth sinks in, and you remember how good it is to be here.

fruta y alas,
eve