SMILE AND WALK

In the short time I have lived, I have learned that, even though I don’t know what´s to come tomorrow, going steadily would allow me to reach my destiny firmly. I have learned that, since I let go of the heavy luggage I was carrying and started traveling light, I get to see the beautiful things in life, such as a lovely sunrise and the pretty sunset colors by the shore of the sea that take your breath away. And even though I do not know what the future holds for me, I have decided to live today as if it were a gift God has given me. It is not bad, every now and then, to remember that today is yesterday’s future. When I learned to give and let go, it was the time I gained the most. I also have learned that it does not take much money for you to be happy, and if all you have is today, you definitely learned how to live with what you have. In my life, I have seen the honest and tender smile of a child selling flowers and those ineffable grins from children jumping and pumping themselves on a swing. It taught me that being considered rich for having a lot of money does not make you wealthy, and being considered poor for having so little does not necessarily make you unfortunate.

 

The reason why we use these words to define one or another is because we take them from socially degrading contexts; perhaps we do not know the real meaning of these terms since true wealth is about having a noble spirit who gives away, expecting nothing in return. Poverty lays in the hearts of those who can only think of themselves, unable to be thankful for the precious gift of life, so that we are the only ones who decide how poor or rich we can be. I have seen people who have done so much with so little and those who have done so little with so much. Ludwig van Beethoven is an illustrative example of this. His father was an alcoholic, and his mother died of tuberculosis, causing his father to fall deep into drinking, and after a while, he would end up in jail. Young Beethoven could do nothing but take on the responsibility of fending for himself and their little brothers, and despite losing his ability to hear, he became the first independent composer, artist, and orchestra director in history. He created magnificent pieces of work that left an unforgettable mark on the world. His life is one of the most accurate examples of showing that everything is possible if you truly want it.

 

I learned from my mother that we must try to put on a brave face in bad times, and we have to live up each day with enthusiasm. If I’m in need of some piece of advice, she will be there for me, encouraging me with such complicity of hers. From my father, I learned that, in order to make a six-year-old girl feel safe, you should only cover her up at night and stay there until she has fallen asleep. I also learned that if I want to get support and find people who to share my ideas with, even the craziest ones, my friends will always be there to laugh with and cry whenever it is necessary. I can act a little immature around them if it pleases me, and everything will be all right still. Despite the fact that I can count my friends in just one hand and I still have fingers left, I do not need a million friends to be happy. Quantity never overcomes quality. I learned that, on many occasions, the absence of people around me has done me well since it has helped me to know myself inside. Being alone with myself has taught me to be a better person when I’m in company. I learned that, sometimes, you can be distracted by the noise, but silence can scream out loud who you truly are.

 

From love, I have learned that the only way to enjoy it fully is by showing myself just the way I am, in all of my facets, good and bad ones too. I learned that there can be sex without love and love without sex, and the sweetest and tenderest of caresses is given with opened eyes and felt with closed eyes. I learned to laugh out loud and cry incessantly if I needed to; likewise, I learned not to hide my sneezing but to sneeze loudly, and when I do so, the sobbing feelings go away completely. No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to hide my feelings, and that makes me authentic. Whatever happened yesterday prepared me for today, and today I am getting ready for tomorrow. I am not better or worse than anyone but simply the best version of myself, with virtues and flaws, and in the hardest times, there has always been someone reaching out their hand for me so that I can climb another step. This someone has lots of names: Lord, Prince of Peace, Jehovah, or God, but among all of these names, my favorites are: Father and Friend. Even though there is still a lot for me to do, I keep believing in Him as if I were a little girl. His glory shall never grow apart from me, and sooner than later, He will rain over me with blessings and continue showing me what is left ahead for me to smile and walk. 

Lost To Win

I kneeled down and picked up the piece of wood. It had the name his executioner crowned him with written on it: “Prince of the Jews." I wonder which messages he preached to offend them. Perhaps I am wrong, and they were not offended by any message but his life style because his way of living always becomes offensive to everyone, whether self-proclaimed wise men or masters, whose actions go backwards to their preaching. Perhaps it was the true reason why they killed him with so much hatred. He never allowed himself to live a half-life, and the convictions that made him live fully are the same reasons why he gave his life for: 

“You shall love your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength; and you shall love your fellows as yourself.” Mark 12:30-31. These beliefs took him to the cross without any complaint whatsoever. Even though he knew only a few words would have been enough to put their accusers out of the game, he valued his mission more than his very own life since his passion for living lacks sense if it does not have a reason to die for.

As I hold this piece of wood, my eyes get lost on the horizon, and I cannot help but cry, and I tremble as I know the details of how they unjustly accused him, how they tortured and offended him, although, now that I think straight, I took part as well in that party who took his life. Just like them, I spoke ill of others many times; on more than one occasion, I hurt other people in spite of knowing how much harm my words were causing. What about all those times when I cowardly lied and justified myself, believing I was not damaging anyone? Oh, I am not a better person than those who demanded your death! I am as guilty as they are, but you knew pretty well what you were doing to leave no doubt at all of the true reasons why you gave up your life. 

With a superhuman effort, you pronounced the words that set me free: “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing!” Whoever wants to follow him will be received with arms wide open. He gives reasons to live for and, with a tender voice, says to them, “Your heart brought you here, so follow it. If you listen to your heart, you will be all right. It will take you to places you have never imagined before; even your dreams will come true, and everything will be more incredible than you ever dreamed of. You can always seek my advice as much as you need it and stay as long as you want. You earned that right the very same moment you broke those mental barriers that prevented you from creating your own story. This moment has just begun.

A PROBLEM IS AN OPPORTUNITY

   The time for changes does not always come by itself; sometimes, there are necessary steps to take in order to make these changes happen. Every time we get into something new, opportunities often appear disguised as problems, and therefore, it is very important to keep your eyes wide open to not let them pass by. I remember one of these opportunities where I thought that what I was going through was nothing but a waste of time, just a rough patch that, in the end, would not serve me at all. It was the year 2005, and on April´s Thursday in the morning, I got ready to get out of bed. My mother gave me her blessing, and in my hand, I carried a bag full of the product I would sell that day. My starting point was the bus station in Acarigua, a small city in Portuguesa, one of the farmer’s states in Venezuela, where I was born and raised. 

I got there, as usual, around eight in the morning, ready to take the next bus on its way to Valencia. Just getting to that terminal made me realize that a new day was about to begin, and surely I would have to face, beside other informal sellers, my fear of speaking in public. Since I had always been a very shy girl, speaking in public was quite a challenge for me; however, my city´s lack of employment left me no other choice.

 

    When I turned to my left, there she was, my strongest adversary—a seller who had been working in the buses for more than four years. She gave me a defiant look. It was her way to intimidate me and keep me out of her path. I still remembered the day I met her, and her greeting phrase was, “I hope you won’t get in my way if you want to keep that face of yours in one piece!” She was the leader of a group of five girls who had been selling in that zone for four years; she was so cowardly, I looked down. I knew she meant what she said for one of the guys nicknamed “Mente” (Spanish word for mind), who used to sell coffee and has already warned me about them.

    Mente was a not-so-tall, thin, brown-skinned man, and he used to always wear sunglasses. I remember Mente not only telling me everything about those girls, but he also gave me a brief summary of the things I would see in that lawless town called motorway toll, something I was so grateful for; however, as time passed, I found out “Mente” was a well-earned nickname for someone who used to get along with everybody, but he was nobody´s friend. 

    Simply put, Mente was somebody who would always know how to tip the balance in favor of him so that he would get away with any problem; besides, he was capable of doing a report without omitting a single detail of the abundant stories in that place where authorities would turn a blind eye to what was going on around them and where the law of the strongest prevailed. Mente advised me to not pretend to be a heroine and stay away from those girls, as far away as I could. I took that on board and decided to do my best to go unnoticed. 

 

    “Hey, Muchacha! The bus is about to leave!” Said to me the collector of the bus I was waiting for. In Venezuela, it is used to have, apart from the bus driver, another person who collects the fare passengers pay, so that way, the driver will only take care of the road. I got on the bus, and it started off. My heart was beating a mile a minute, for I knew that in almost ten minutes, I would have to speak right in front of forty-five people loudly, so that everyone would hear me confidently in order to convince them all that my product would be useful, but at the same time, graciously, so I would have their affection and therefore create a trusting environment. Although they were aware they could buy my product anywhere else, they would feel the necessity to get it from me. 

    The product to offer that day was "toothbrushes." I know you may wonder, “What can you say about a toothbrush?” Yet, you would be surprised at the excuses sellers use to promote anything they have in their hands. On one of those occasions, while I was waiting at the terminal for the bus to leave, an old man sitting on one of the benches asked me, “What is it you sell?” to what, with a bit of sadness in my eyes and no enthusiasm at all, I answered: “Toothbrushes, sir!” The old man got up from the bench while he held up his stick, and looking right into my eyes, he said to me, “You still have a lot to learn, Muchacha, because this is not about what you sell, it is about you! Don’t forget it!” If it had depended on me, I said to myself, I would not be here. If only I had a better option… if only… Oh, that ten-year-old little girl who dreamed of traveling and visiting other continents! She did not deserve this; I had failed her. I felt, though, as if life slapped me right there, waking me up from my daydream. 

    The minutes had passed already when the collector looked at me with a gesture that said, “It’s time!” I got nervous, as usual, in the first bus, and as the day went on getting in and off the buses, the nervousness faded away; it was like breaking the ice for me. In a certain way, that first bus set my mood for the rest of the day. So, if you are afraid of doing something, the best you could do is get it done without giving it too much thought. I used to stand on the bus aisle, holding myself still between two of the first seats as the bus kept on the road, filling my lungs with as much air as I could hold, and there my day started: “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen! The product I am going to give you won’t make you itch or bite you, so you can see it without any obligation.” I walked till the bus aisle´s end, delivering toothbrushes to everyone there, then I stood back again between the first two seats and gave my final speech. Normally, I used to end up saying something funny that would make people burst into laughter and, at the same time, make me look spontaneous. When we reached the first motorway toll, I got off the bus with my bag a bit lighter; however, there were a few more buses to take before it was completely emptied. Back in those times, motorway tolls were the places where every car or bus driver should stop briefly just to pay for a tax fare established by the government to transit on that highway.

 

    As I expected, when I got to the motorway toll, those girls were there with that menacing look always. They were used to fighting, and as the newbie myself, I was invading their territory. At the motorway toll, everybody respected them. Nobody dared mess up with them. They had built a tough girls’ image and had gotten rid of every seller who got in their way. Every time I saw them, Mente’s piece of advice came to  mind so that I would stay out of trouble. I waited a little bit more before I could take the next bus, for these should be the ones they used to leave behind; normally, these left-behind buses would have few passengers, and so I used to make my day out of left-behind buses. Now that I think back, I realize that it was not easy to see them smirking. I am pretty sure behind those defiant looks, each and every one of them must have had a sad story to tell.

 

    That morning, when I got out of my place, there was a cloudy sky. It was a storm approaching, and everything got more complicated since finding shelter from the rain was not simple, and even though the motorway toll had a roof all over, informal sellers were not allowed to wait for the buses under it. So we usually would have to take shelter from the sun under a leafy big tree settled aside the motorway toll, and every time we spotted a bus in the distance, we would run to catch it at the brief stop they had to make in order to pay the fare to transit. The storm was relentless. Under the big tree, there were only three informal sellers when the rain started: Mente, who used to sell coffee; a boy who sold some coconut-type sweets; and myself with my bag of toothbrushes. Each of us ran to take shelter whenever we could. I had my bag knotted and ran to an old abandoned kiosko, which only had the roof still standing above, a few meters from the motorway toll. I got it all soaked and placed my bag on the floor. As I waited for the rain to pass, a thought took hold of me and I constantly said to myself, “This is just a passing situation! Hold on a bit more! Just as this storm, this situation will pass too, for in the book of your life, there´s so many pages still to be written.

 

    That inner voice was right. Around six months later, I saved some money, and with my mother’s help, I would have enough to move out of state and start a cabin crew member course. As the years passed by, I could travel to Europe, learn English, and one day, when looking for a job, I would be given the chance to be part of a tourist company’s seller’s group. I think I complained so much when I was going through all those things, but I never imagined that experience would be so vital for me to perform satisfactorily in what I do now. Even though in the book of my life there are many pages still to be written, I have decided to appreciate the lesson of this moment, which is also preparing me for greater things than myself.

    For this reason, never underestimate any situation you are going through. Probably, it is the previous training for what is expected of you. After ten years, I finally understand that old man’s words: “This is not about what you sell; it is about you!” It was never about the toothbrushes, but the life lesson that situation was giving me and my attitude towards it despite the circumstances in which I was living. This is why I only tell you that it is not about divorce, loneliness, breaking up, financial crisis, age, deceptions, who let you down, sickness, widowhood, or any circumstance you are going through. This is and always will be about you.