Magic Towns, Enchanted Moments
"Beauty stirs us from our habitual forgetfulness of the wonder of being" — My notes from David Bentley Hart's speech, "Beauty, the First Transcendental," Nov 11 2016
I wish that I could say I have enjoyed every moment of my time in Mexico. Of course, such joy is difficult when you experience sickness (faringitis and I have a bitter relationship), or even simpler challenges (why is it that no one has change for a $500 peso bill, $30 USD?). But even when life is not challenging or difficult, I often fail to appreciate its beauty, enchantment, and giftness. This past week has been a welcome exception to that general rule.
I spent the long, Independence Day weekend (Mexico has multiple of those), travelling Pueblos Magicos (Magic Towns) and Morelia. In addition to being excellent tongue twister vocab words, El Oro, Tlalpujahua, Morelia, Pátzcuaro, and Janitzio are truly spectacular destinations. We roamed cobblestone streets, sampled artisanal liquors, admired historic buildings, and browsed countless vendors' stalls.
I found myself in awe of El Oro's total quaintness (the city really does feel like something out of a story book). After I pronounced "Tlalpujahua" correctly enough to get a cab ride there, I learned how weightless handblown glass spheres are, and how delightful it feels to enjoy the juxtaposition of Christmas shopping in the blistering heat. I was surprised by how much I loved the historic Morelia, with its Museo del Dulce (candy museum), churro stands, baroque Cathedral, and free concert featuring Julieta Venegas. Pátzcuaro didn't fail to impress either; the parade for November 20th left the streets covered in confetti, and invited the locals to wear their revolutionary costumes. Our boat ride out to the island of Janitzio was an escape from the celebratory energy of Pátzcuaro; the sight of the quiet island in the distance seemed like something out of an indie film (what would it have been like to row up to that city in the lake in this enchanted country's past?).
Countless moments from this weekend stirred my heart into a profound appreciation of the wonder of being, and of being in this place. Moments from the week pre-Saturday did the same.
The first was in my Academic Writing class on Monday. Our first homework assignment of the semester was to write a thesis-driven paragraph on some song or poem. After this past week's class on thesis development, I caught a glimpse at how much the teachers I teach have improved since that first assignment. For one, they all crafted actual theses. For two, they were good theses. Is it okay to feel proud of students for improving when they're the ones who have done all of the work to improve? I'm not sure, but I felt incredibly proud of them. I told them, but that wonderful sense of appreciating the significance of their improvement has stayed with me all week.
Then there was my visit to a new preschool on Friday. I assisted in a lesson on how to make a turkey-shaped muffin, and watched as the kids excitedly assembled their Thanksgiving treat based on their limited understanding of English instructions. The reception at the school was so incredibly warm. The director introduced me to the parents when they dropped the kiddos off, and the parents' association had prepared an elaborate gift basket for me as a thanks for working at their school. It is still a weird thought that the language I speak every day can be a gift to those who hope to learn it. It is kind of totally wonderful that even our most basic gifts and talents can be gifted to others if we have the chance.
Moments like these are profoundly moving. Coupled with my travels over the weekend, these experiences have filled me with a renewed sense of the beauty that surrounds me.
Even as I write this, though, I can almost hear a more-pessimistic-me's counterargument. Of course it is easy to be in wonder of the world and of the gift of life whenever you are surrounded by inarguably beautiful sights, or live in extraordinary, happy moments. Right?
Yes. This is true; it is easier.
But I also wonder if seeing the enchantment in these beautiful moments can help train me to see that beauty, even if it is harder to identify, in the duller moments of life.
While I was in Morelia, it was easy to get excited over the fact that our combi driver had a great taste in music. On Janitzio, I was filled with joy when the breeze blew. In Pátzcuaro, the very sight of tea for sale made me happy. Small moments of enchantment are much commoner than the grand ones, but both are invitations to wonder. It would be great if by living into these moments of total enchantment, I could appreciate those less enchanted moments more thoroughly. It seems like it is worth a try.
