The tree with ears

I want to share with you the delightful spirit of the traditions of El Salvador in this piece by Salvadoran poet Eric Doradea, inspired by legends of the beautiful spreading guanacaste or conacaste tree with its ear-shaped seed pods. It graces the landscape and provides welcome shade in the dry Pacific regions of Central America. The tree is called conacaste in El Salvador. It is the national tree of Costa Rica, and the namesake of Guanacaste province.
Conacaste comes from Kuyu, the Nahuatl word for tree, and Nakas, the word for ear. In Nahuatl, Kunakas is the Tree with Ears.

Kunakas: Listening, the cure for loneliness

The grandmothers say that the Tree with Ears is a refuge for those in need of rest.

Its presence is like an elder brother who knows how to listen.
Many gather around it to tell their secrets.
They speak of dreams and loves, and the tree
with its four hundred ears
patiently listens to everything they have to tell it.

Its replies are not always silent.
T
hey say that the sound of its fruits shaken by the wind is like music,
like magic,
like the spell of four hundred snakes shaking their rattlers at once.

The grandmothers say that their original grandmothers learned the craft of listening,
that every evening when the sun grew tired, they listened
to the sunset,
to the flight of the birds,
to the mad river,
to the flowers as they fell asleep,
to the wanderings of the heart.

They say that knowing how to listen is the best cure for loneliness,
and when the moon is full,
they gather the littlest ones around the trunk of the Tree with Ears
and listen intently to the thoughts of the heart.

En español:
Conacaste proviene de los sonidos Náhuat Kuyu: Árbol y Nakas: Oreja, Kunakas: árbol de oreja.
REMEDIO CONTRA LA SOLEDAD.
Cuentan las abuelas que el árbol de orejas es casa para quien quiere descansar y su presencia es la de hermano mayor que sabe escuchar, que a su cintura muchos se acercan a contarles sus secretos, le hablan de sueños y amores, el árbol con sus cuatrocientas orejas pacientemente escucha todo lo que tienen que decirle, sus respuestas no siempre son en silencio, cuentan que el sonido de sus frutos sacudidos por el viento recuerdan la música, la magia, el encantamiento de cuatrocientas culebras moviendo sus cascabeles. Las abuelas cuentan que sus abuelas primeras aprendieron el oficio de escuchar, que todas las tardes cuando se cansaba el sol escuchaban el atardecer, el vuelo de los pájaros, la locura del río, el dormir de las flores, el andar del corazón; cuenta que saber escuchar es el mejor remedio contra la soledad, que en noches de luna madura reúnen a los más pequeños en la cintura del árbol de Orejas y escuchan atentamente lo que piensa el corazón.
Eric Doradea

Happy Easter

Resurrection was always meant to be felt as a continuing NOW deep in the cells of our bodies,

Where something so mundane

As simply pausing to own our feelings, in a caring way,

Could call forth,

From an eternal and timeless presence,

Such a PENETRATION of those cells,

That our changing body ITSELF, would become our spiritual companion and teacher.

–Fr. Ed McMahon

Fr Ed  shares his inspiring story in this 5-minute video, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fuCUVNQb1Hg

Thanks to Nada Lou for filming and sharing this video!

How to cultivate a white rose

 I am very moved by President Obama’s starting his speech in Cuba with the words “Cultivo una rosa blanca.” In that opening line, he established cultural recognition, respect, and the deep challenge of repairing relationships. The audience seemed totally with him in that moment, and responded with heart-felt applause. For my English-speaking friends who are not familiar with this poem by Cuba’s most famous poet, José Martí, I will translate it here:
 
Cultivo una rosa blanca
En julio como en enero
Para el amigo sincero
Que me da su mano franca
 
Y para el cruel que me arranca
El corazón con que vivo
Cardo ni ortiga cultivo
Cultivo una rosa blanca.
 
English translation:
 
I grow a white rose
In July as well as in January
For the sincere friend
Who openly gives me his hand.
 
And for the cruel one who tears out
The heart that keeps me alive
Neither thistles or stinging nettles do I grow
I grow a white rose.
 
In Spanish, the verb “cultivar” is the action of growing or raising plants, as well as the usage common to both languages: cultivating or developing relationships as we would plants.
 
There is something deep in the heart of this poem that speaks to why the combination of Focusing and Nonviolent Communication is so powerful. How do we cultivate a white rose, all year, for our friends as well as for those that have hurt us? Certainly not by burying the reality of our feelings, but by recognizing them and allowing them to guide us on the way to expressing what we need, then listening with openness to what the other person needs.
 
Society doesn’t know how to do this yet. People like Trump and Cruz appeal to those who think that thistles and nettles will somehow protect them. Obama’s gesture to Cuba shows that he understands that change is a deep process, not an either/or.