death/life

she called me kind and said that she wanted to feed me - that to her (and within her beautiful culture) food was sacred and the act of sharing was a blessing and a gift. we ate bowls of soup with large chunks of vegetables from unknown species (all grown in their gardens) followed by rice, lentils and lettuce. I ate every morsel and happily accepted seconds. we ate in their communal room that doubled as a classroom. the windows that adorned three of the walls opened to an amazing view of quito and the barren mountains that neatly channel the expansive city through the valley. knowing my grandmother was ill laura turned the conversation to death. laura, the headmaster at yachay wasi, is a mystic. she looks into you -- not at you, speaks to your heart -- not your ears. she is barely 5´3", dresses in traditional attire (she is from otovalo - each region has its own style and dress) and fills a room with such intensity one almost falls over when faced with her presence and the altitude. her eyes never strayed when talking to me. she said i should celebrate death, embrace it. that life is continuous and death is surely not the end but an extension. in their culture they talk to the wind and sun, the mountains and trees -- these are the spirits of the deceased. i was silent during the winding bus trip back into the city. i felt moved, alive and, more than anything, deeply touched. when i returned to the hostel (our home away from home here in quito) i learned that my grandmother had passed away that morning. she slipped away into the endless abyss of nature and the universe surrounded by all those whom she touched during her amazing life. laura must have felt this -- she knew! she read the signs strewn about in nature and spoke to me with her endless wisdom and compassion to both guide and comfort me! i sat on the veranda overlooking 6 de deciembre, the sounds of busy quito a mere hum, and wept. leaning back on the pollution stained lawn-chairs i gazed into the fist like mountains that interrupt the flow of ecuadors capital and bid my grandmother a pleasant journey knowing she was there -- within the mountains and wind, the sun and air... it seemed to me, in that moment of clarity between sorrow and joy, i could feel her wishing me a pleasant journey as well.

r i p abuelita!

(phyllis m. nolan 03.22.28 - 07.21.09)