Two worlds collide

(Photo by friend, Ron Noecker, January 2010)

I love this photo. In the village of Santa Maria de Jesus, two Guatemalan girls — in indigenous dress — texting. I believe they are leaving a comment on my blog. Or Twittering. So. What happens when two worlds collide? We want speed. To be able to accomplish and produce and eliminate aggravation. So we buy toys that promise such benefits. And then, we come undone when our toys don’t work. (It’s easy to be in a Luddite mood in Antigua, Guatemala, where the streets are 500 year old cobbled stones. But I am just as bothered as anyone by this technological balancing act.)

I guess I wonder what it is we hope these toys will bestow upon our well-being that is not already there.

My friend here has a car that he talks to. Literally. And it has to be loud, as if his car is deaf. He tells his car where he wants to go. The car (a woman’s voice) talks to him, giving him directions. He tells the car he want to make a phone call. The car (the same woman’s voice) talks to him, and makes the phone call. He tells the car he wants to listen to music. He says, “Play Lady Ga-Ga.” The car says, “Playing Lady Ga-Ga,” and music fills the air. (I think the experience would be more memorable and true to reality if the voice had an exasperated edge and said, “What is your problem? Is your CD player broken? Find the CD and play it yourself!”)

When I ask people, I am told that these features in our car help us “save time.” Okay, I’ll bite. But save time in order to do what?

I can still here my mother’s voice, “Slow down. Where are we going, to a fire?”

That’s the great thing about these modern cars. I can just tell the kind car lady (I assume, anyway, since her voice sounds kind, but you never know), “Please take me to the nearest fire.” And she would give me directions, and with that information I would be able to drive to that fire at a more leisurely pace.

But, I digress. We seem to be allergic to any sense of “wasted time.” Which means, time spent “waiting.” So we avoid it at all costs.

But then, it kind of depends on what we are waiting for, doesn’t it. Sunday night Mass at the Cathedral (in Antigua) begins at 6:30. The chairs are filled with people a little after 5 p.m. Waiting. For Mass. And they don’t seem to mind. (Maybe they take a book to read. You know, to have something to do while they wait.) (I have had pastors in the States tell me — where I am guest homilist — “don’t worry, the pews will be filled by the second reading.”)

In contrast to people waiting over an hour for Mass, if I have trouble getting an internet connection, or if that connection is delayed or slow, my day can be completely unraveled. I had to wait, like ten minutes!

Waiting is on my mind because I’ve been in a dentist’s office (and chair) for over 6 hours the past three days. (And there will be more tomorrow.) Oh. And get this. In one of my botched root canals — done a few years ago — my new dentist found three broken drill tips. Three. They had been broken during the procedure, and left in my mouth, buried under a crown. I’m not making this up. (Like the pastor said, “I’m not preaching now. This part is true.”) (I’m thinking it was a plot. Implanted antenna by an evil empire. And somewhere in an airless, windowless room, an intern types every banal but crucial nuance of my daily conversations. Well. It’s not John le Carre, but you’ve got to ponder something while you’re sitting in that chair.)

I guess it all depends on what we are waiting for doesn’t it? Here’s what I know for sure: As long as waiting has been downgraded to an undertaking or duty to be checked off a list, we will never allow ourselves the permission to be present during the wait.

Tonight is a single malt scotch night (it helps the gums, I am told). I on a rooftop looking at Volcano Agua. The air is fresh and cool on the skin. The clouds give the mountain a backdrop, as if a set for an about-to-happen stage show. And now, just before dusk, the mountain is the color of umber.

Do you have the patience to wait

Til the mud settles and the water is clear?

Can you remain unmoving

Til the right action arises by itself?

Lao – Tzu

Post a Comment

Blog Archive

SIGN UP FOR TERRY’S Sabbath Moment and NEWSLETTER:

Upcoming Events

Followers

Note from Terry…

Sabbath Moment

Stay Connected

Terry's Favorites

About Terry

Poll Questions