Luna de Xelaju

Two cities have been woven through my past week, one settled below Guatemala's beautiful hills and one in the pages of a book.

Last weekend several friends and I visited Quetzaltenango, more commonly known as Xela. I had heard over and over again how wonderful Xela is from the Guatemalans know before going. It holds a special sort of reverence, I think. Arguably the most popular marimba song in Guatemala (oh, yes, the marimba is the national intstrument) is called "Luna de Xelaju," an ode to the moon which is reportedly bigger and more beautiful than usual when it shines over Xela.

It's as if Guate is Detroit, Antigua is Mackinac Island, and Xela is... well, for me it's like Petoskey, breathtakingly beautiful, peaceful and authentic. (Sorry for non-Michiganders who can't really understand the comparison. Come visit.)

All that to say that I was eager to meet the city that is so well-liked by my friends and this country, and easily and quickly fell in love with it as well. It's a beautiful city of winding streets and cool temperatures, much calmer than Guate. And oh, its central park. Glorious. Trees and benches, cathedrals and museums, and a circle of stone columns where I relished the ending of one of the most beautiful books I've ever read.

I've been reading "Gilead" by Marilynne Robinson. I know it's a popular book and you've probably read or at least heard of it, but allow me to express my love for it for a moment. It is a beautiful story but even more, a beautiful tribute to life. I sank into the words as they lifted me up towards a better apprecation for the gift of existence. Nothing I can say will convey the book's message they way it does itself, so please read it.

As I mentioned, I had saved the last 10 pages to the book to read in the park. I sat up against of of the columns, the beautiful park and families and flowers in front of me and finished it. Aahh.

I think that it will be hard for me to separate Xela and Gilead, the setting of the book, from here on out. In my mind, their beauties have intertwined, as have the feelins of peace and contentment I felt while getting lost in each of them. One of my favorite passages of the book could have been written about Xela, I think, especially because it talks about its famous moon. In the words of Reverend Ames, the book's narrator:

"The moon looks wonderful in this warm evening light, just as a candle flame looks beautiful in the light of morning. Light within light. It seems like a metaphor for something. So much does. Ralph Waldo Emerson is excellent on this point.
It seems to me to be a metaphor for the human soul, the singular light within the great general light of existence. Or it seems like poetry within langauge. Perhaps wisdom within experience. Or marriage within friendship and love."

I actually visited Xela again for work this week. It was a tough visit for my heart - the work we do, although so good, is not easy. I was weighed down by the massive hurt of so many people in the world and my smallness in comparison. However, as we drove away, the most lovely scene I have ever witness stretched out in front of me. The mountains surrounding Xela were topped with billowing clouds, all in different shades of gray and purple. In the valleys beneath them, white clouds raised up from the earth, ringing the hills with their vapory beauty. Words won't capture it... it took my breath away. Everything was so beautiful. The goodness of the world hit me, the goodness of life, the goodness of searching for truth and justice and the goodness of God to pour so much beauty into our surroundings.

"I feel sometimes as I were a child who opens its eyes to the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can't believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed her will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don't imagine any reality putting this one in the shard entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try."