Twenty Questions with Kirby Part 2

1. Are certain words considered beautiful because of the ideas and images they signify or because of an aesthetic quality that they inherently possess?
2. Is it more meaningful to “be a voice for the voiceless” or to listen and allow the “voiceless” to speak for themselves?
3. The media is largely responsible for perpetuating many problematic images and stereotypes. To what extent can a change to this norm be consumer driven, and how much of it must come from within the media itself?
4. How can I prevent one element of my identity from becoming my identity without minimizing its importance?
5. I’ve always been a fan of the idea of compassion. Recently, I learned that compassion literally means “to suffer with.” When is it appropriate to attempt to heal someone’s pain, and when is it more appropriate to enter that pain with them?
6. How can we best go about critiquing ideologies without becoming critical of the individuals who hold them?
7. Is it possible to be authentic with the masses and be vulnerable with only a few?
8. Does preoccupation with certainty lead to loss of faith?
9. Many emotional words prevalent in other languages have no English equivalent, and perhaps vice versa. Does this negate the universality of the emotions themselves?
10. What does it really mean to “keep in touch?”
11. In what ways is beauty a multisensory experience?
12. Is it possible to return to a place or a person you love without being physically present?
13. We tend to feel our most powerful emotions in the heart- or in the core of who we are. Why then, do we often suppress these emotions as trivial?
14. How can I bridge the gap between my youthful uncertainty and developing wisdom in order to cultivate a unique and powerful voice for myself?
15. Unrequited love???  
16. How do we maintain the subjectivity of art while fully embracing and appreciating the artist’s original intent?
17. Why are we so quick to judge the value of our actions and efforts on their tangible results, especially when they are out of our control?
18. How did destructive things like discrimination, prejudice, and intolerance become so embedded in the faith I practice- one that is supposed to be based on ideals of love, grace, and justice for all people?
19. As I move on to the next chapter of my life, how do I hold things from home close to my heart while also making room for new people and experiences?
20. Is it okay to ask a question without any real intention of finding an answer?

The Age of my Heart

The Age of my Heart

            “Todo el mundo es la edad de su corazón: everyone is the age of their heart.” This Guatemalan proverb encompasses the revelations that dominated my thoughts on our final full day in a country abundant in both transformative strength and stagnant injustice. Although the trip was undoubtedly focused on service to others, I found that the lessons I learned throughout my experience taught me more about the role I personally play in the world around me more than I could have ever dared to dream. Unlike less consummate forms of introspection that can wrongly engender selfishness, the reflection I experienced on this day inspired a swelling sense of community. This was especially prevalent as we overcame many challenges of both physical and emotional nature as a team. We trekked to the precipice of an active volcano as the sun rose over the lush green landscape. We meandered through the bustling city of Antigua to absorb the rich history and culture of the country’s former capital. (Okay, so we mostly ate great food and tried our hand at bartering with vendors in the marketplace. I was awful.) We spent the evening mulling over our week of adventure and expressing how much we mean to one another. Ultimately, the time we spent together- listening, learning, and loving- brought me to an important realization about what it means to be the age of my heart. One particularly profound definition of the word age describes it as “one of the periods or stages of human life.” By this philosophy, age is not a number, but a complex state of existence. This state is comprised of a myriad of passionate ambitions and intricate stories- many of which are not even my own. They belong to the precious people of La Limonada, to the team with whom I have traveled, and to the beacons of light and love who have dedicated their lives to bridging the divide between privilege and poverty. And yet . . . they are inextricably a part of me and my ever-growing, ever-changing, ever-beating heart.

            It beats with the joyful laughter of dear baby Charlie, who is spending the first few months of her fragile life in a country that most Americans would deem unsafe for even a week of travel. Unaware of this prejudice, she smiles brightly at the strangers who inhabit her home and giggles loudly when they make silly faces- which is often. It aches for the fear-filled brown eyes of children in the daycare of La Limonada when yet another group of strangers darkens its doors. Only moments later, the radical grace and hospitality that permeates the community takes hold from a place deep within their youthful spirits, and they reach up for warm hugs and gentle kisses on the cheek. My heart overflows as it holds dear the dreams of La Limonada’s older children; these dreams radiate with the hope and ambition that is necessary for sustainable social change. It bleeds for the teenage girl on the street corner who has temporarily put her own future on hold so she can nurture a child even though she is still one herself. It swells with the memories I have made with my own peers, each of whom are too uniquely wonderful to describe. These beautiful individuals, although less experienced in years, teach me so much about trust, innocence, and humility. In this period of my human life, I am young.

            My heart gains wisdom and discernment from those whose years have brought with them truths worth internalizing. It is warmed by the strength and diligence of my chaperones/teachers, who have spent countless hours working through the logistics of bringing a diverse group of teenagers to a foreign country. It absorbs the warm light of Daniela and Lizza, the two Lemonade Team members with whom we have worked closely. The compassion they exude for the children of La Limonada is just as fierce as it is gentle- as if these children were their very own. They have high ambitions for this marginalized community and even higher ambitions for a world where this kind of marginalization is heartbreakingly commonplace. My heart is rejuvenated by the tireless efforts of Tita, who has worked in La Limonada for longer than I have been alive, who exemplifies the remarkable truth that perfect love casts out all fear. It lifts up the elderly residents of La Limonada- fathers, mothers, sons and daughters- who believe fervently in a better future for the next generation of Guatemala. Although I may not completely understand the perspective my elders have on the world, they give me hope for the kind of vision I hope to acquire. In this period of my human life, I am growing older.

            Each face, each story, each heart- adds a new dynamic to the heart I am still trying to comprehend- my own. It is young, and it is old. It is so weak, and yet it is so strong. Every vein, every vessel that belongs to me belongs a thousand times over to a world longing simply to love and be loved. So, as I cope with my departure from the land that has captured and transformed the core of my being, I choose to look to the ends of the earth that need to feel the rhythm of my beating heart the most. Because I know now that at this period in my human life, I need to feel theirs just as desperately. Then, and only then, will I be able to understand my identity as a citizen of this beautifully broken world that we all call home.

            Muchas gracias, Guatemala. Nos vemos.