I have dreamed of being an instrument of healing. I have had grandiose thoughts of being the change I'd like to see in the world. I have traveled to Guatemala first to learn and recently to serve. I found in my first trip that poverty is a harsh perspective for me to look at. It is difficult for me to witness. It is a way of life for millions. It is a lifestyle that I find painful and discouraging. For the people of Guatemala it is home.
The second trip has allowed me to get a better understanding for the lifestyle. There are numerous ways of living in this region. There are economies that facilitate prosperity, religion, and poverty. The colonial legacy that once thrived in Central America still holds an advantage. There are entitled land owners. There are entitled politicians who are masters of networking and ensuring the status quo. There are those who simply wake each morning to hold a job and make a living. There are those who are advocating for the ongoing injustices that might be black and white. There are those who wake up to each day ignorant and foolish. There are those who have little comfort but thrive in community. Guatemala is stepping into the 21 century having a specialized skill set of policing, peasantry, farming, and exporting.
Poverty is alive and strong in Guatemala. It lives in the form of greed, stubbornness, violence, and obedience. There is a hunger in Guatemala for learning, creativity, and integrity. For 30 years this country learned to live by the rules of the military and to unlearn this obedient and mundane culture will take freedom to dream. There is a poverty of money and health for the peasant class, but worst of all there is a poverty of hope. There is a beaten and obedient people who have learned to never leave the yard and do what has always been done. There is not a freedom to dream and shake the cage of "shoulds". There is a fear of sharing.
There is a slow leak in the concrete heart of Guatemala. Americans, who come from the same country that empowered the machine that steam rolled their dreams of communal policies, are now saturating the crusted and calloused skin protecting the creativity that lives in the land, softening it, and seeping in confidence and encouragement. Guatemala is not 3rd world, it is recovering, it is mangled, and it is healing.
For Passion Income Statements
How can we measure our profit margin for an investment in social innovation. There isn't one. What I find is that there is a passion margin. When you get to the bottom line of an income statement for an organization like common hope, the hope should be for passion. If we give people an opportunity to dream, we have seen them come alive and share in the unique abilities that all living things have, a passion to grow.
If resources can be shared across productive systems like a health clinic, a library, an early learning center, educational psychology, a family guidance center, clean and safe community facilities, educators, and dreams, we have seen that return on passion keeps growing. The key market indicators are not in dollars, but graduation rates, teen sexual patience rates, drop in rates, preventative health care usage, and economic stability rates.
When we walked around the barrios of Guatemala we were greeted almost every time. We were acknowledged with every passing, we were treated to connection, only briefly but consistently. The scariest folks in Guatemala were not the ragged and impoverished looking people, it was the unknown. The fear of the consequences and desperation that can come from economic poverty. There is a quiet and humble tranquility that flows through the streets of Guatemala. That is a natural resource that has been suppressed, disrupted, and barried in classism.
There is conflict and politics like in every system. It is not capitalism that destroyed this region. I doubt communism could create less suffering. I do think the fear of equality keeps others from sharing. It might be greed and corruption that feeds the fear of equality. There is a term I rarely hear used in social systems, stingy. There are cultures that are stingy in the human race. Those who are stingy have not been loved enough to know that sharing often results in bounty.
Sharing is not an economically sound strategy for gaining power, and sharing power is rarely admired. I could not have dreamed up this opportunity had I not been able to trust that I could share responsibility with this team. And now, we share in the bounty. We look at each other and realize we have extended our family. We have drilled for love and found it. We have mined for passion and are exporting it. We found a compassion forrest and are harvesting its fruit. We have finalized our sharing statements and have your return on investment, our passion margin. Our dividends are as high as ever, in the currency of gratitude. You are valued!
Buen Provecho,
Ron
Classism, a simple beginning
This is my second trip into Guatamela. The first was spent entirely in a group of classmates on a guided excursion. It was a subtle introduction into the crisis, mysticism, lifestyle, and ecology of the Antigua region. I began to have an opinion on the history being shared. I realized that my country was involved and possibly the reason for the unrest. This inspired me to reflect on much more than history. It caused to accept that I must be part of the restructuring, because the culture can never be restored to an original state, far too much has changed, or been set back.
The current conditions in Guatemala seem to be a class struggle. Those who have the most still believe this is not their problem, but a problem. This is only my opinion because I don't have their perspective. Their solution seems to be to put up higher walls with, greater voltages running through the barbed wire lining the fences. Their solution seems to include their own schools, places to shop and eat, even their own churches, and in the end conceal the problems around them.
I do this myself with emotions and with actions. When I have dishes I put them in the sink, off the counter but out of sight. My roof has leaks in certain areas but I simply close the door hoping it won't leak too bad. Emotionally I do similar thing to ignore overwhelming distractions. I like to exercise, helping me exhaust my emotions into insignificance, by feeling healthy. I occupy myself with leisure as a reward for my a perceived hard work. I lock my doors because others will steal my valuables if I don't. I am ultimately too irritated by the necessary work to be done because it forces me to be responsible for things that are tedious and lack entertainment. The work needed to be done keeps me from having my fun. But in the end that leak turns into a hole and the hole destroys more than my roof it can set me back.
I think the complications have come from the perspective of should pay, what is valued, and how much is enough. We all understand what it feels like to be entitled. I think there is a difference between being entitled to money and privileged to have money. Conquering others for resources and exploiting these booties is not fair. Feeling entitled to currency makes me curios and ignoring the dignity in privilege can lead to prejudice. For now I have come to guess that the highest classes might be the most fearful folks there are.
The current conditions in Guatemala seem to be a class struggle. Those who have the most still believe this is not their problem, but a problem. This is only my opinion because I don't have their perspective. Their solution seems to be to put up higher walls with, greater voltages running through the barbed wire lining the fences. Their solution seems to include their own schools, places to shop and eat, even their own churches, and in the end conceal the problems around them.
I do this myself with emotions and with actions. When I have dishes I put them in the sink, off the counter but out of sight. My roof has leaks in certain areas but I simply close the door hoping it won't leak too bad. Emotionally I do similar thing to ignore overwhelming distractions. I like to exercise, helping me exhaust my emotions into insignificance, by feeling healthy. I occupy myself with leisure as a reward for my a perceived hard work. I lock my doors because others will steal my valuables if I don't. I am ultimately too irritated by the necessary work to be done because it forces me to be responsible for things that are tedious and lack entertainment. The work needed to be done keeps me from having my fun. But in the end that leak turns into a hole and the hole destroys more than my roof it can set me back.
I think the complications have come from the perspective of should pay, what is valued, and how much is enough. We all understand what it feels like to be entitled. I think there is a difference between being entitled to money and privileged to have money. Conquering others for resources and exploiting these booties is not fair. Feeling entitled to currency makes me curios and ignoring the dignity in privilege can lead to prejudice. For now I have come to guess that the highest classes might be the most fearful folks there are.
Aqui en Guatemala
I'm here and being in a new place stimulates worry. I have a story that eased some worry, but did not weaken my caution. I arrived at the airport and things went well. I walked out the gate, exchanged money, and into customs. After i exited customs should have waited in the area just before you exit the airport. I made the mistake of leaving the building and not being able to get back in. You can tell you are leaving the airport when you see several men in blue vests that appear to be official. It's is pretty clear when you are leaving the building because you can see the pick up area. Also should have printed out my itinerary, I didn't being a technology snob, and I was left outside the building without access to my files because I had no connection with my phone. My naïveté caught up to me because the airport didn't have wifi. It may have but I didn't want to break out my iPad outside the airport. I remember thinking just look like you are comfortable.
This part of the story will helps with that. I was waiting for awhile as my shuttle, a little red Chevy (Hostel Los Lagos red carpet service ;) ) didn't come. I had no number, no phone, a language barrier, and a growing fear. So as I look down the railing of the pick up area, searching for my name over and over. The fear by this point had turned in thoughts, what next. I kept calming myself and with every proposition for help from random locals, my anxiety gathers. The pick up area looks like a concert railing. This culture is very festive and people wait at the railing with signs and whooping, like they do when soldiers come home from deployment.
So, starting to wonder what to do next, i start to pay attention to folks who have been there as long as i have, thinking they are here for the opportunity to make a quick dollar or worst case plan a movida. If i rule them out and I need to ask for help, I can stay away from them. Then I couldn't believe it, but I recognized our bus driver from my trip three years ago. He also remembered me. The small signs that demonstrate things are fine. He help me connect with a little peddler who earlier I had ruled out, but ironically he had the hostel's number. They picked me up in five minutes. Here is Jairo from my trip three years ago.
Here is Jairo and I 3 years ago.