I have had five thoughts competing in my mind over the last week.
First, there was the recent passing of a lovely soul, Ascension Martinez from Chimayó. He taught me that the legacy we live in the repetition of tradition remains extremely powerful
Second, there were the services for another friend who also passed. It wasn’t so much the lessons learned from her life, but the pain meeting family and friends who, instead of protecting those they are entrusted to help, betray the universal norms and create their own traditions of passed on trauma.
Third, I listened to the brilliance of a man who reminded me that we are separated from happiness and that we strive only to eliminate the pain. That idea rolls right into the fourth thought from the most recent book on my nightstand. It reminds us that we are so caught up trying to live the “happy” life that we forget to just … live.
All these thoughts toss and turn in my mind and ultimately direct it toward the political.
I barely knew Ascension. He would come into the restaurant, his trousers were impeccable with the crease down the middle and his shoes humble, but always clean. His shirts, always button-ups, revealed his fashion sense as they always matched his other clothing nicely. One day he called me over to his table as he enjoyed the Lenten special. He almost always ordered the panocha, the sweet, sprouted wheat delicacy we have come to enjoy during the Easter and Passover season.
Listening to him was like being taken back in time. He told me that his mother would make panocha and give him the hardened chunks of candy that stuck to the side of the Folgers can. He put them in his pocket and would eat them on his way to school. We laughed and his eyes sparkled.
In another instance, of my best friends was reminded of a time many years ago that he would rather forget. However, it was an experience we shouldn’t forget because an adult striking a child only stops when we call it out. Looking at my friend, he stood tall, majestic, like a solid oak next to the offender from decades ago, many years his senior, who by now looked old and haggard. My friend had won and overcame his past. Threats and intimidation didn’t keep my friend, now grown, from rising above the sadness and violence or the life that could have been. Patterns of abuse and cover-up must end, and it starts by calling out bad behavior when we see it. Some traditions need to be condemned to a nether place, like those who commit them.
A priest I knew taught that happiness is something we all yearn for, yet it always seems to be around the corner. Pain is something we want to diminish and doing so leaves more room for happiness. The greater the space between us and our happiness, the more we yearn for God to help bridge that gap. But how do we know what real happiness is without its opposite? My interpretation says that we need pain to know what happiness is. We are incapable of feeling only one thing.
In “The Midnight Library,” the heroine comes across a library that lies between life and death. There are an infinite number of books in it that tell the story of all of her possible alternate lives. The questions of what if or what would have happened are asked in every imaginable way. In these alternate universes that purported to produce happier selves, she realizes none make her happier. Desperately seeking the “happy life” prevents her from just living.
All this pondering brings me to a political conclusion. Last week, the City of Española held municipal elections in which only half of the positions were contested. It wasn’t much of a contest. Voter turnout was even worse at a dismal 6%. That’s pretty disappointing for a community wrought with real problems and real issues that you could help solve. As much as we like the mitote, we sure don’t seem willing to do much about it. We are a community that wants change, but not taking part in local elections means we’ll get more of the same.
What have the confluence of thoughts over the last week taught me?
Some traditions are worth fighting for while others must die. We’ll never be happy if we continue to live with the pain that exists in our community. We are compelled to make the best of every waking moment because we only get one chance at life. Let the memory of Ascension, during this appropriately ascendant time, appeal to the desire for a better life. Resurrection isn’t just for the divine, it is for you and me. Nothing changes if nothing changes.