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They tried to stop her at the border
by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés on Apr. 28, 2009
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Let this be the prayer, then, in every heart this May,
the month of La Nuestra Madre, Our Mother.
And let there be a little procession to crown Our Mother,
as in times of eld, let that processioncito be in our hearts
as we celebrate the time of all mothers,
no matter what appearance they take, no matter what form...
let us honor all who carry in their own hearts that which,
no matter whatever else,
remains immaculate in Love for all.
Printer-friendly versionSend to friendPDF versionThey tried to stop her at the border
No visa for her kind, you know...
undocumented, some were certain.
Border guards, La migra, didn’t like the looks of
her. No one cared that
her many, many relatives were waiting for her
back home in Santa Fe USA, and
in surrounding little villages with names like
La Cienega, over near Chupadero, and Española.
Her so many relatives, holding babies in their arms,
were praying daily, nightly, for her safe travel and especially
for her clear passage at the border.
Her familia already had all their kisses ready on their lips,
just to give to her.
They had prepared the special water to ritually cleanse her
for having made the perilous journey successfully.
But fate would not have it, their prayers were not answered.
Stopped at the border; the frontier guards swarmed the truck,
their reasons now seeming so clear,
for her girth alone, was so great...
a peasant woman, not a svelte city woman,
she was just a campesina girl grown up ...
and now pregnant, so far bigger than usual.
And just trying to make her way over the border...
carrying, as las parteras, the midwives, say, ‘way out front.’
She could hardly be expected, being with child and all,
To fold herself into a woman
The size of a gnat.
So, no, she stood out, that belly in certain lights, you know,
looking quite suspicious and all.
Clearly she was from one of the oldest villages.
One could tell by her odd clothes and bare feet.
Why would such as she be wanting to come to the US?
So Immigration and Customs nabbed her.
And the truck driver who was bringing her,
slipped away.
And Customs interrogated, wanting to see papers:
Papers and papers and more papers yet. And money too.
But she was not carrying even la retícula, a small purse,
and did not have even coinage, so she could only answer
with the priceless look in her beautiful eyes.
They took her then, to where all suspicious people are taken,
to warehouse in holding cells; and there alone on the cold floor
she laid her head.
And they put their hands inside her maternity clothes,
certain she was carrying contraband.
‘What about that belly, real or fake?
Maybe filled with cocaine probably...
Ah these people will try any trick to bring in drugs.’
And so they forced her to be x-rayed, just to make sure.
And after, she just looked through the fence of the cage
they’d put her in.
Would someone, anyone, come
and free her?
No one came.
The next day.
No one came.
The next day.
She was lost.
But not forgotten.
Despair back in the villages in the USA.
How lonesome they all were for their jailed relative, for since forever in what was once Mexico, now the US, la familia had grown to thousands -- blood, not blood -- thousands of aunts, uncles, comadres, compadres, cousins -- especially cousins -- mamis, papis, aubuelos, abuelitas, neighbors, everyone who traded tomato plants with each other, friends, everyone who cultivated gardens amidst the chamisa and scrub piñon across the Santa Fe hills, all had become family by virtue of food and Faith.
Now this huge group of “families within a Family,” prayed and prayed hoping to hear word of her whereabouts, praying to see maybe even an old Mexican truck with the little religious flags and red chenille berries waving across the truck’s headliner ... how such would come chugging across the border, tilting sideways with the effort, carrying her home to her people up north....
Everyone there waited.
Many wept for her being lost.
And the pregnant mother waited in jail.
And waited...
having committed the crime of trying to come
across a line
that someone claimed was holy ...
a line drawn in the sand
along the banks of the Rio Grande
by less than ten men, long ago.
The pregnant mother waited in her jail.
And waited.
Meanwhile, at the border, men and women swarmed, waved papers around, phone calls flew through the magic wires. A holy man was called in to do the things holy men do, to negotiate the young mother’s release from the holding tank. To bring her home to her people.
And it was done. Somehow the grim blood and the prayer sent out over the Sangre de Cristo and the Sandia mountains, the appearance of gentle yet fierce souls at the border, led to her release.
And now, allowed to go free, she was brought the rest of the way, in a big red truck from the US, fittingly called by its manufacturer, El ariete, The Ram. And you have rarely seen such rejoicing, teenagers holding camera phones high, elders weeping, those scarred by life, weeping and laughing, children bedecking with flowers...
As she came from the truck, she was gentled and soothed and
Kissed and touched as though souls had at last met Soulmate; singing broke out, the old hymns...
as la familia extraordinaire, were reunited once again...
From dream to reality, she had made it across the border...
on the same trail that all ancestors journeyed upon long ago...
La Nuestra Señora Guadalupe, with our Cristocito in her belly,
Had made it to her people, to all souls who hold a place for her
And her little Son, “the radiant contraband Baby” that is invisible only to those who have not yet the eyes to see,
the ears to hear ... invisible even to x-ray machines ... at last He and she were here, safe in the arms and eyes and hearts who love, those who have always loved La Conquista, Mother of the Conquered, Mother of the Americas who ever comes bearing her Precious Cargo.
And to at least one old pilgrim in Santa Fe who could hear La Señora Guadalupe’s words without her saying them aloud, she whispered that she was touched by the people’s fears and their great love, but she was never really lost. Just had work to do ... at the border ... in the warehouse
... maybe with one of the poor old men who swept the floors, maybe with one of the young who came to graffiti a wall, maybe with an official who remembered the generous heart again, maybe with a young mother who didn’t know if she could make it, but seeing our Lady behind the fence, felt filled with bold grace and knew she could make it after all. A momentary pause. Not a lifetime peril. Our Lady, on the way home, stopped for a bit, for she had business at the border.
CODA
Several years ago, the padrecito of Our Lady of Guadalupe parish [Shrine] in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, Father Tien-Tri Nguyen, along with deacons, parishioners and many people on both sides of the border, began seeking an artist to fulfill a vision... to create a living statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
The comadres and compadres were literally overjoyed to find the sculptor La Señora Georgina Farias in Mexico, a tiny woman about five feet tall, and in her 60s, who would create the heroic-sized statue of bronze. The beautiful statue is twelve feet tall and weighs about two tons.
The statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe was indeed confiscated at the border on its way from Mexico to the US, but not allowed the usual Customs detainment of a day or two, but rather she, seeming suspicious somehow -- at least to authorities -- was carried off the truck, all 4000+/- pounds of her, and taken to a warehouse, and her whereabouts were unknown for many days. She was indeed x-rayed to make sure she was not carrying contraband.
For several days, the people of faith waiting for her in the US, having already rented buses to drive to the border to greet her, to stay with her, and to bring her home in triumphant procession, were so frightened that they had ‘lost’ her for good... like many other families on both sides of the border who do not know where their loved ones are, they kept a heart-rending vigil.
Yet, no authority seemed to know where she was. The “right hand at U.S. Customs” said one thing, and the “left hand at U.S. Customs” said something different ... as though she had become desaparecido, a missing person.
Yet, anyone knowing the border as we do, knows it sometimes seems the Tower of Babel must have been built right on the banks of the Rio Grande, and it seems to come startlingly alive again with disinformation, misinterpretation and downright lack of conveying facts that ought normally be available to any rational being.
So, in order to find Our Lady of Guadalupe and free her, along with his posse of devotees to Our Lady, Fr. Tri, as he is called by his parishioners, journeyed from Santa Fe to the border.
There he and the determined posse (In Latin, posse, means to ‘be able’) found persons in Customs who helped, a warehouse door-opener rather than a foot-dragger, and no doubt by the padrecito’s purity of purpose that was poured into him by all the longing and gentleness and fierceness of the parishioners, deacons, candidate deacons, old people, young hearts, middle-aged soulful people, and others who loved Our Lady, they were able to secure her release.
Thus, she was lifted to a great flatbed trailer, secured safely and with the red Ram truck pulling with its strong engine, she came finally along the ancient road into Santa Fe -- literally with police motorcycle escort, and horns blaring from the long lines of cars and trucks in the processional that had formed to bring her home to Agua Fria Street, at last.
And too, just as I said, the people literally wept in joy and gratitude, and most of all, in love, in immaculate love for her, as they touched her, kissed her, sang to her and for her, as the blessed workmen raised her up to her perfect outdoor room they’d prepared for her.... one that lets the clouds, the sun, the moon, and the stars peek in cycles through her open rayos, those rays around her body. This last, a nightly and daily shower of her esteemed symbols over and through her bronze body.
Let this be the prayer, then, in every heart this May,
the month of La Nuestra Madre, Our Mother.
And let there be a little procession to crown Our Mother,
as in times of eld, let that processioncito be in our hearts
as we celebrate the time of all mothers,
no matter what appearance they take, no matter what form...
let us honor all who carry in their own hearts that which,
no matter whatever else,
remains immaculate in Love for all.
Let her, let us, let all of us be found,
Be freed to be brought home
to a place of Love for one another,
on all sides of every kind of border, at last.
------------------------------------
“They Tried To Stop Her At the Border” ©2009, by Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, director of La Sociedad de Guadalupe, for works in her name. All Rights Reserved. permissions: projectscreener@aol.com
Special gratitude to heart of Miss Deanne Newman, for calling my attention to Our Lady of Guadalupe parish and statue, where I went to Mass last Sunday late... a place of true refugio, refuge, after having driven four-hundred miles, and in 4-wheel drive through two snowstorms and over a high mountain pass, to fulfill a teaching commitment in Santa Fe. Y mil gracias to mi Estimada Delores Romero at Our Lady of Guadalupe Shrine for so generously speaking to me, a stranger, as though I were family tambien.
Too, I hope you will click here to see the photos of Guadalupe’s journey from Mexico to Santa Fe, U.S.A., especially the faces of those who came to accompany her, bless and be blessed by her.... both in Mexico and the US. There were many stops at villages and churches along the way. The photos were taken by Joshua Trujillo, son of the deacon at the parish in Santa Fe. Joshua is a fine photographer. You will also see there’s a book, Our Lady of Guadalupe, A Journey.
A wonderful, touching and
A wonderful, touching and moving reflection in which Dr. Clarissa brings together yet another example of human faith and determination that is met by a God who remains in solidarity with and shows mercy to those who are lowly. Thank you. Derek
thank you for writing about
thank you for writing about Our Lady's pilgrimage to Santa Fe! As you saw, she is prayed to and honored daily by many who receive her blessing as they travel on Guadalupe, none more than the those who wait for work on "her corner."
I'm sorry that I did not know of your visit to our City of Holy Faith. I would have loved to have met you as one who reads your wise words and who shares in our charism and spirit as SCL's. Perhaps next time.
Sr. Phyllis Stowell, scl
Archangel for certain next
Archangel
for certain next time Sr. Phyllis, and thank you for adding about the souls who wait for work on the corner under the mantle of La Señora.... as Sr. Char White says over at Leavenworth, pls. lean on our prayers.
dr.e
To envision a world without
To envision a world without borders is dreaming in technicolor. We live in a world tarnished by original sin. Christ is Risen! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Why not envision a world
Why not envision a world without borders? You can't get there if you don't start! There is nothing wrong with dreams. They have brought us the printing press, the computers and internet, modern medicine and many other things (and yes, I know there also comes bad things with the good - that's not my point here). Jesus didn't have borders - he loved Roman, Jew and outcasts alike. Let's work towards his vision instead of saying it can't happen in a sin filled world. That's precisely where Jesus worked and said His Kingdom was!
Snowdrop says "We live in a
Snowdrop says "We live in a world tarnished by original sin." We also live in a world that was blessed with the life and teachings of Jesus Christ and He promised us His Holy Spirit. Are His dreams for us to be in unity with Him a sham?
Is love a dream Snowdrop?
Our Lord and Saviour Jesus
Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ is most truly Rising in
this World Without Borders which even now we dare allow to breathe!
Hallelujia!
Doc, That is such a beautiful
Doc,
That is such a beautiful story! Thank you for the telling of it.
I always make sure to come and read your blog/s because they give me a reason for joy or a reason to reach out to others.
This story made my day!
Thanks!
Ghost
Dear Clarissa, Thank you for
Dear Clarissa,
Thank you for what you've written!
Of course,The Mother of the Americas would weigh at least 2 tons! I'm remembering the story you told in WOMEN WHO RUN WITH THE WOLVES about the Butterfly Woman dancer from the Pueblo.
I rejoice that Our Mother has joined her beloved children in Santa Fe, I only wish I could travel from my cold, rainy Portland, Oregon to see her for Mother's Day. May our hearts grow big enough to welcome all.
Dr. Estes, your writing is
Dr. Estes, your writing is liking coming across a blooming cactus in the middle of a toxic wasteland. I always come back here after reading the comments on Richard McBrien's articles--amongst others.
Your writing reminds me why I bother with this Catholic business at all. Thank you.
I join Colkoch in her
I join Colkoch in her comment. I miss you too Colkoch.
Dra. Clarissa, Preciosa
Dra. Clarissa,
Preciosa historia.
Que Dios te bendiga y te de vida y salud,
Paul
A song of ascents. 1 Out of
A song of ascents.
1 Out of the depths I cry to you, O LORD;
2 O Lord, hear my voice.
Let your ears be attentive
to my cry for mercy.
3 If you, O LORD, kept a record of sins,
O Lord, who could stand?
4 But with you there is forgiveness;
therefore you are feared.
5 I wait for the LORD, my soul waits,
and in his word I put my hope.
6 My soul waits for the Lord
more than watchmen wait for the morning,
more than watchmen wait for the morning.
7 O Israel, put your hope in the LORD,
for with the LORD is unfailing love
and with him is full redemption.
8 He himself will redeem Israel
from all their sins.
gracias por este testimonio
gracias por este testimonio tan verdadero, tan hermoso, que me llena los ojos azules que ando con lagrimas
así son mi gente, con quien vivo por estos años pasados, y ahora, y siempre, primero Dios.
que nuestra Señora, abogada nuestra, nos alivia, nos consuela, en este valle de lagrimas por fin y para siempre, un sola familia reunida con su gran amor
recién un congresista republicano federal, creo de Arizona, propuso una nueva ley contra "los hijos anclas" asi los dice. Los hijos no son anclas; son hijos y son familia.
por favor visite al sitio nmvoices.org para ver como sufre nuestros hijos, nuestras familias en nuestra lucha para la justicia, para igualdad, para ser una sola familia, sin estas fronteras del momento que pronto desaparece como líneas en la arena del desierto. Hoy en el Deming Headlight puse un articulo hablando de nuestros niños de la frontera.
http://www.demingheadlight.com/ci_12447779?IADID=Search-www.demingheadli...
yo vivo en la mera frontera; voy a Misa en México porque casi no aguanto la misa política de acá este lado, aunque el obispo de Las Cruces no es tan y tan feito. Confesando mi voto federal estadounidense, mi párroco mejicano no encontraba razón para hablar de tales asuntos seculares en el confesionario y me mando' de inmediato a la fila de comulgar con intenciones para las almas del purgatorio.
Este sábado por la noche y toda la noche como el ultimo sábado de cada mes nos reunimos algunos hombres de la parroquia allá en mi querido México para rezar toda la noche en turnos. El cofradía se llama Oradores Nocturnos Mexicanos o algo por el estilo, y es un movimiento nacional desde hace muchos años. Este sabado en especial prometo aplicarme con atención a sus intenciones muy especiales y mas buscadas, mas deseadas, como su siervo espiritual, Hna. Clarissa.
visito también con frecuencia a la Ciudad sufrida de Juárez, tomando muchas fotos y dejando velas prendidas a San Judas y Nuestra linda madre de Guadalupe en el Catedral.
cualquier cosa que puedo hacer para ayudarle en su buen trabajo tan humano, tan espiritual, tan necesario para hacer crecer el entendimiento y cercanía con nuestros hermanos anglo-hablando, me deja saber, por favor, Hermana Pinkola Estes.
su servidor humilde siempre,
agradecido
atentamente
frere charles
columbus/palomas
Archangel Creator's blessings
Archangel
Creator's blessings on all who read here. It's Dr. E here, and I would just like to translate into English some of what Frere Charles has said above in Spanish, so our English readers have access and explanation of the link. Translation is an art, and I've cross-checked with my colleague y comadre Dr. Martita Urioste (mil gracias Dr. U): Here is the essence ...
He says in the body of the text: that this story fills his blue eyes with tears... that Our Lady, La Señora, Our Lawyer, (this meaning, I believe her role as petitioner for us to El Cristo), relieves us, comforts us in this valley of tears, and finally and forever creates with us a family reunited with her with great love.
He goes on to say that a US congressman, perhaps from Arizona, has proposed a new and brutal way to outlaw poor people who some speciously call, 'anclas", that is, "anchor babies," meaning those children who are born in the US when their parents are working here with or without papers. (Dr. E, is an ancla, herself... in US immigration law, which is a tangled mess of hundreds of outdated, irrelevant, non-comprehenseive and often contradictory rules, an 'ancla' has US citizenship because they were born on US soil. There is therefor (the recently ever-narrowing) possibility that the parents of a child can apply for 'family re-unification' status (according to US law) and bring the parents and grandparents into US citizenship after a time too.)
( Just to mention, my family has tried for over ten years (10, count them, ten) to 're-unify' with our eligible family members in Mexico, and we sadly know firsthand the tricks, stallings and 'lost paperwork' over and over again, by Immigration offices. They seem to want to delay until the old people in Mexico who have been trying for reunification, pass away from so poor health. This is the situ in our family, the old people now so ill, they cannot be moved, and had they been given passage (as provided by US law) ten years ago, they would not be deathly ill, and they would be here in our embrace, instead of there without. I just ask prayers for all the tens of thousands of Mexican heritage families who have reunification rights under US law, but who have been delayed and denied until they run out of the massive amounts of money it takes to travel to distant points, to pay lawyers, and government fees and fees, or until the family members are so elderly or ill, they cannot make the journey without life-threatening consequences to their already frail bodies.)
Frere asks that we visit this website to see how the families and children called 'anchors' are abused.
http://www.demingheadlight.com/ci_12447779?IADID=Search-www.demingheadli...
Frere lives right at the border, frequently visits the hell of Juarez to light candles and take photos to document... and attends Mass in Mexico because he cannot take in the too often 'politicizedl Mass' on this side of the border in the US... and he praises a bishop near Las Cruces New Mexico in the US for being not as ugly-mean as some others about these matters.
He says that at the last Saturday of each month, men from his parish reunite regarding the border, and pray all night long, taking turns. The group is called Men (Mexicanos) Who Pray in the Night... that it is a 'movimiento', a national movement of many years' standing.
Frere says this Saturday he will especially promise to apply himself with attention regarding my-- and your- very special intentions toward love and mercy for those who are anclas, for those who are poor, for those who suffer.
This is the essence of the comment in Spanish. Thank you Frere Charles, for your prayers for the las lloronas, those who have hearts that still weep and act in care, instead of whose hearts harden and attack, or turn away).
Dr.E
Dr.E: thank you. Come back
Dr.E: thank you. Come back when you can, we miss you.
On the 4th of July many U.S.
On the 4th of July many U.S. soldiers in Iraq were granted citizenship. I remember hearing one woman soldier telling the news reporter that until she entered the army she thought she was an American. She grew up here since she was a baby. You know, if it walks like a duck, and talks like a duck.... At least she is American now and I only say that because she wants to be one. There is nothing wrong with being a different nationality. It is a shame we can't open our hearts a bit more.
estimada y muy amada doctora
estimada y muy amada doctora E.,
Por este medio favor de recibir mis saludos mas respetuosos y calurosos en unión de oración. Espero que este mensaje le encuentre bien de salud y rodeada de sus seres queridos. Espero que pronto por algún milagro su familia se encuentre muy unido en cuerpo como en espíritu, aunque una muralla de hierro y de papeles en este momento les separe.
Con esto paso a lo siguiente.
No quise decir que mi Ciudad Juárez sea un infierno, aunque mochos lo miran así, aunque su pueblo heroico y abatido pasa violencia cada día. Hay que rezar mucho para su situación como zona de gran pobreza y sufrimiento. Pero yo he visto igual y hasta peor en varias ciudades estadounidenses, donde la pobreza, desesperación, droga adición, injusticias sociales, etc., llevan consigo las violencias muy crueles.
Para mi Ciudad Juárez es un punto de peregrinación al igual de cualquier basílica, al igual de San Juan Capistrano. Cada vez que puedo, paso por el Catedral para rezar para la paz en nuestros tiempos y en mi alma abatida, a prender velitas a San Judas Tadeo y a Nuestra linda Señora de Guadalupe.
Hablando de la Madre de Dios, tengo que mencionar que la frase Abogada Nuestra y "hijos desterrados" "en este valle de lagrimas" etc. viene de la oración que recitamos después de cada Misa en México: "Dios te salve, Reina y Madre, Madre de Misericordia, Vida, dulzura" etc. que en ingles sigue "Our Life, our sweetness and our hope," que en la Madre Lengua Latín su llama Salve Regina. Para mi, como forastero en esta región siempre me toca profundamente no solo a rezar por mi situación de exilio personal, pero también a rezar para todo el pueblo en marcha que usted menciona tan dulcemente, tan trágicamente, en sus escritos.
Perdón que no conteste a sus palabras tan bienvenidas de inmediato; me llenaron con mucha emoción que yo no podía verlas mas. Le agradezco mucho de su tiempo en contestarme, Dra. E. Por medio de este enlace usted puede ver una foto mía que tome el sábado pasado en la Ciudad de Juárez, frente al Catedral, de los jóvenes urbanos que vienen a bailar allá como Matachines. Es algo que hacen como ritual, vestido siempre como los antiguos Síoux de nuestra nación. Espero volver a Ciudad Juárez pasado mañana; rece para mi mucho por favor. Allá pondré una vela para sus intenciones para con su familia, que todos sean bien unidos muy prontitos. Y juntos recémonos por favor para Dr. Miguel Diaz, professor de la teologia, mientras que entra a la cueva de los leones.
http://www.demingheadlight.com/ci_12463512
su servidor siempre
atentamente
frere charles
archangel Perdón estimado
archangel
Perdón estimado Frere C. The word I put there is a typographical error. The well, not the hell, of Juarez... as in special container. Frere Charles sees Juarez, he mentions, as a point of pilgrimage.
kindest regards,
dr.e
muy bienvenida doctora estuve
muy bienvenida doctora
estuve allí ayer el domingo de Pentecostés, para cumplir el mandado de visitar el Catedral y rezar para sus intenciones muy humanas, misericordiosas y cariñosas. Viera cuantas personas de buen alma llena las Misas alli los Domingos, Misa tras Misa por horas desde la aurora hasta después de mediodía. Son miles y miles de familias, de seres humanos, de hermanos, de católicos practicando aun bajo una situación de ocupación militar y de violencia inexorable.
gracias del buen testimonio muy fuerte de corazón que usted hace aquí con mucha valentía en el NCR. Usted presenta la cara linda del pueblo. Gracias, mi doctora, y, si me atrevo decirlo, mi hermana.
su servidor siempre
atentamente
frère charles
I have been in a warehouse at
I have been in a warehouse at the border for a good long time now. Living sensitively in Italy right now, that I think I can fairly say is in a Fascist regime, is like living in a vice that is squeezing tighter and tighter by the day. I am exerting the pressure that I can in resistance to this but the forces are enormous and all around. The focus of the blame is one: THE IMMIGRANT. A pot that has been simmering on the stove for years is in a rapid boil right now. We are amazed with how quickly this precipitated.
Roberto Saviano, (the young author of the world famous book about the mafia, Gomorra who has since publishing had to live under 24 hour police protection, and continually change living locations, since he was about 28 yrs. old) recently spoke about the immigrant issue. He likened the ridiculousness of the situation to a play, a farce, in which the world sees a country in which three regions are completely in the hands of the mafia, and the entire country under it’s grip, more and more so with our current government (19 of our parliamentarians and our Prime Minister Berlusconi would all be behind bars were it not for an immunity law that they tailored and passed themselves) that wants to send away immigrants BECAUSE THEY BRING CRIMINALITY TO ITALY! Italians can’t see the ridiculousness of this.
We are getting to new levels. Our government, in agreement with Lybia has sent away two boatloads of immigrants while still in International waters so as not have to have the responsibility of asylum seekers, or food/medical aid. When the UN spoke up about this, our government said they would go to war with the UN as well. In the meantime, what is not yet seen is the hatred they are cultivating daily. The far right is getting consensus on this issue even in the most left leaning areas of Italy. We are very worried of where this will go, what suffering this will bring.
Italy is a border, the entire country, because of it’s geography. And we are moving towards a terrifying extreme. Yes, there are real practical difficult issues to be dealt with, but losing sight of mercy is losing site of hope. It is a terrible terrible spiral into insanity. What many Italians don’t understand is that those boats of people that they sent away are boats of hope. Because this old corrupt culture refuses hope at all costs. The core of the immigrant is hope, this is what they are travelling on. Italians also forget that those immigrants are what are keeping their birthrate stable and making this country run. They are caring for their elderly, their children and doing all the jobs that Italians no longer want to do. Their offspring statistically are much more adventurous, successful and hopeful than “full blooded” Italians. Recently our local elementary school was almost permanently closed due to devastating cuts in education. It was an Albanian mother who gathered the Italian parents to fight and wouldn’t accept no. I was knocked over with the hope she brought.
I am weeping at this border. My heart has been tormented. I am fighting to make change, make at least my town be my home. Frère Charles du Désert I prayed with you all Sunday, with the time zone difference it was the hours of your special Saturday night prayer. I am an American, and I am sorry for what my government has done/is doing/not done for your families, for your people. Also for your family Clarissa. I am so sorry. My very best friend in the world, Alicia, is Mexican. I have never known a more generous heart than the Mexican heart. Never. When I think of Roberto Saviano, I wonder what the farce is in America, the play we are putting on, that is so ridiculous to the rest of the world. Europeans have made me understand in a way I never did what a wound of violence our wonderful democracy rests on: the massacre of all the indian tribes. They also don’t “get” the rights, entitlement, constitutional thing about guns, it seems a no brainer to them that if we took away the guns we would have a lot less problems as would our neighbors. In Juarez the problems seem to rotate around American guns and American drug need. Why is the responsibility not obvious? It is from this point that we have to work. Exactly this point. What happens here?
Things may not be as extreme in America as they are in Italy in this moment. But all I can say from my experience is that this wammy came out of no where and is going no where good. Losing sight is losing sight. These issues are complex and need attention and concrete solutions, but not to be ignored in unknown silent hatred as perhaps we ignore our bloody roots. They need MERCY, LOVE and HOPE.
For anyone interested here are two links to some news about Italy. I don’t think the social political climate in Italy is being comprehensively written about in the foreign news, which makes it all the more a crazy trip with no end in sight.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2008/oct/19/italy-race-touadi-mafia
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/may/13/italy-illegal-migration-bill...
I didn't know Italy was doing
I didn't know Italy was doing so badly. We always hear it is France (maybe because people want to blame it on a people not known for being religious). The world needs prayer so yes, I can see frere charles' group including the whole world in their prayer sessions as well we should too.
Hope you are okay Dr.
Hope you are okay Dr. Clarissa. We haven't heard from you in a while and it may just be that you are busy elsewhere. I hope so. If not, I hope you will be okay soon. May God send you his blessings.
Dearest C.E.V., I so often
Dearest C.E.V.,
I so often think and pray for you and that powerful image you chose as a nickname here.
I too have been praying for Dra. E, and hoping she might post another column soon. I was so excited to read her that perhaps I made her tired with my long messages. If so, forgive me please. I shall take a vow of silence!
Please post again, Dr. E! Archangel!
your poorest servant
frere charles
Well thank you frere charles.
Well thank you frere charles. Everyone can use more prayers. And please do not become quiet. We like to hear from you. Even those you disagree with wouldn't have someone to rail against if you were quiet. Dialogue doesn't happen in the silence or at least only rarely.
my dearest
my dearest crackedearthenvessel
you may be interested to learn that Dra. E spends time carefully, thoughtfully, prayerfully reviewing the comments we wayward pilgrims leave upon these pages, and responds very carefully and at great length to several. FOr this reason perhaps she has not attended to her own column, so generously giving of herself elsewhere.
As evidence in the case I offer this recent reply she made under a cruel comment left under the article about the sisters's vistiators:
=========================
Archangel If I understand
Submitted by anonymous (not verified) on Jun. 07, 2009.
Archangel
If I understand your words, you claim witness to an avowed and consecrated nun (a woman on the beach you didnt interview, did you? Or did you?) who you "saw" during 'family vacation' in a bikini... how old was she? Just asking: how did you know she was an avowed nun? Your other example of a nun of 52 years' consecration, putting her between the ages of 72 -75, saying she was wearing fancy high heeled shoes? Really? Quite something, both the nuns of your story. A 75 year old woman of any affiliation should maybe get a medal for wearing fancy high heeled shoes. That's quite a 'steep' accomplishment at any age, esp. elderhood.
Regarding the children you mentioned who are also deaf, we try to teach children that the consecrated come in all forms and dress. We dont convey to children any personal judgment we might have been taught if a consecrated person doesnt look the way someone thinks they should. There's a history to this...
Many priests of our Mexico come to mind. How would you present them to the children you speak of?... when the poorest of the poor priests wear serapes and huaraches that are falling apart and they havent had the time to cut their toenails recently, and have heavy calloused hands with ragged fingernails ringed in dirt because they work in the fields with their campesino parishioners, and are saving the one dusty black cassock they have---the one with the frayed piping along the front placket-- in case the Bishop might make a rare visit on horseback.
Just my two cents worth: from caring for children with special needs as a Commissioner for the Boy Scouts in the first Special Needs district in the USA... the children learn what we teach them; we hope to teach them-- those who carry certain needs because they are also blind, deaf, suffer from cerebral palsy, Asberger's syndrome, autism, ADHD, motor development delays, devastating injuries from accidents, paraplegia with only the ability to breathe into a straw in order to make their wheelchairs go forward or back... we try to teach them what others often do not give them in return
... to see with the heart and not judgmentally... to see the soul of whomsoever stands before them, to move past outer appearances, to embrace what is offered with respect, and even with love.
I find trying to return time and again to that set of golden means of nonjudgmental principles about others' outward appearances, helps to teach acceptance of all kinds of differences in self and others, actually not only teaches the children to carry their wise hearts publicly and usefully, but most importantly, teaches them to teach others to be wise of heart and soul also.
Children with special needs, especially, often carry the gift of all-embracing heart. I understand how adults are to be with children... the form is sewed into Christ's teaching when he tells the apostles not to scorn the children, most especially, not to teach the children to scorn others by the adult's poor example. He is saying suffer/deal with your own irritation about what demeanor you think should or shouldnt be, and let these pure souls come to me; they are loved and understood purely here.
That's how I understand it would be error to turn children's hearts to something less by teaching them to scorn others. The children with special needs are judged and misjudged and scorned far too often by others. Mocked. Egregiously and hearbreakingly so.
My witness up close for these many decades now: The children dont always have a person immersed in imitatio Cristi nearby, to protect them from harmfully judgmental adults and the judgemental children whom those same adults have taught to spurn others who are different than themselves.
That's why we try to teach children to see into, to find the goodness of others regardless of shape, form, ability, attire, oddities of teeth, hair (some of the children with special needs I've cared for have burns that disallows the growing of hair), legs, no legs, arms, no arms, sight, no sight, hearing, no hearing, maimings, disfigurments, eccentricities that are harmless.
At day's end, the children are not concerned with attire, symbols, costumes, importance, rank or other outward appearances. They only ask, is this person sincere, do they have a heart? Will they be nice to me? Will they help me? Are they funny and are they kind to others? Yes, to others. The children with special needs especially, are wise... they know that if an adult harshly judges others, they will judge the children themselves harshly too.
This is just my two cent's worth... about nuns, about priests, about how adults teach children to keep seeing the soul in others... or not, depending on what the adults around them model.
dr.e
Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés
archived columns at NCR: El Rio Debajo del Rio
"Nuns: The Civilizing Force of the Church"
http://ncronline.org/blogs/el-rio-debajo-el-rio/nuns-civilizing-force-ch...
reply
Frere Charles: Thank you for
Frere Charles: Thank you for this. Dr. Pinkola Estes, thank you for being you.
I ask for a communal prayer
I ask for a communal prayer to all those in Iran stuck at the border, may their voice be heard and may they find freedom, as their hearts are instructing them to seek. May there somehow be a safe passage at this border. May we all learn as we witness this extreme boarder. They need our prayers and protection and the growth of our hearts.
I am embracing my inner child
I am embracing my inner child with love these days, and adjusting my sails forward. "Touched By The Earl King", and "You are Not Needed There", help me remember to stay true to my heart.
I hope you are having a big beautiful summer. Thank you. Kind regards, a.
Something Beautiful by Sinead
Something Beautiful by Sinead O'Connor:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkeVqwba7Zk
I wanna make
Something beautiful
For you and from you
To show you
To show you
I adore you
Oh you
And your journey
Toward me
Which I see
And I see
All you push through
Mad for you
And because of you
I couldn't thank you in ten thousand years
If I cried ten thousand rivers of tears
Ah but you know the soul and you know what makes it gold
You who give life through blood
Oh I wanna make something
So lovely for you
'Cus I promised that's what I'd do for you
With the bible I stole
I know you forgave my soul
Because such was my need on a chronic Christmas Eve
And I think we're agreed that it should have been free
And you sang to me
They dress the wounds of my poor people
As though they're nothing
Saying "peace, peace"
When there's no peace (2x)
Now can a bride forget her jewels?
Or a maid her ornaments?
Yet my people forgotten me
Days without number
Days without number
And in their want
Oh in there want
And in their want
Who'll dress their wounds?
Who'll dress their wounds?
I am thinking about the
I am thinking about the border. What the border is. Is it between the US and Mexico? Is it the Italian peninsula? Is it the G8 that is tackling the problems of humanity?
I have come into the door of this forum many times, and each time, I think every time, I reflect for a moment on the last thought, it catches my eye somehow, that the largest endangered species on the earth is the human soul.
I think this is the border. We can talk about a lot of other things, but I think that the border is the justice we have inside, that we are all created equal and made of the same "star stuff" and if we are out of touch with this, we are in trouble, and inevitably, someone gets stuck at the border. The border is also a lonely prison of injustice, unfairness, and unnecessary pain. Which is why Iran also came to mind in this period.
I never thought I would quote Berlusconi, but he gave me new hope in the power of the unconscious today. Well first of all, he had a good intuition to move the G8 to Aquila, and fortunately in Italian culture, intuition is an acceptable and acknowledged way of operating. Journalists even used the word in these days, which still surprises me as an American. And today, Berlusconi said this: “I think it is important, that for a few days the world paid attention to a place of pain, and from that place of pain the world gained hope”.
Ignoring injustice and suffering is nearly as bad as being unjust. That is what my heart tells me. I think we are all, as in humanity, at the border and I think that we have to search deep rather than act in habit, act in courage rather than from fear, be open to reflection, and when it doesn’t work, try again. I would like to thank Clarissa because she shines light onto places that otherwise could remain dark and lonely to me. Essential and vital lessons of embracing life and love with such honesty. She sheds light on the work of humanity. May we all learn from this courage and generosity.
Dear Dr. Clarissa,
Dear Dr. Clarissa,
Your column is my therapy. You are the guiding angel of truth for many souls. I know you are probably on an important mission but please try to write in your column when you have a few moments. I know others must miss you as well
Thank You,
Janine Burr
here is the latest news from
here is the latest news from No More Deaths
Sentencing Tomorrow for NMD Volunteer
This summer is already on par to be one of the deadliest on record, and it will also be one of the busiest on record for No More Deaths. This past week alone, seven bodies were recovered from the deserts of southern Arizona. Despite a reduction in the number of Border Patrol apprehensions, the toll of the U.S.'s deadly border policy continues to grow - demonstrating the need for a strong and continued humanitarian presence.
On Tuesday, volunteer Walt Staton will be sentenced in federal court for his littering ticket. We are hoping for a strong show of support at the hearing, and all are invited to pack Magistrate Jennifer Guerin’s court room at 9:00 am (the courthouse is on the SW corner of Congress and Granada.)
The prosecutor prepared a lengthy memo to the judge asking for a harsh sentence, saying that Staton’s sentence should have a “strong deterrence effect.” They propose a $5,000 fine and five years of probation, including a ban from the wildlife refuge. Staton and his attorney will ask for a suspended sentence with no fine or probation.
Letters of support were delivered to the judge, including two from the Sierra Club and the Center for Biological Diversity—both groups asserting that poor US policy, not water jugs, present the biggest threat to the environment along the border.
NMD Shirts and Buttons
You can purchase t-shirts and buttons with our new water jug logo from Peace Supplies
No More Deaths volunteers were joined by other humanitarians from Tucson Samaritans and Humane Borders to show their commitment to providing direct aid to migrants on July 9 when thirteen more volunteers were cited for littering while attempting to leave water along migrant trails. Their action came as a heat wave began in southern Arizona, bringing deadly 110-degree temperatures to the desert along the border.
The next morning, No More Deaths received a phone call from the Department of the Interior asking if we would be able to meet with Secretary Ken Salazar in the near future. Seven people attended a meeting in D.C. with Salazar and his staff on July 19 to begin working towards a solution. (The Tucson Weekly: Meeting with the Secretary)
That meeting paved the way to another meeting with regional Fish and Wildlife staff and Mike Hawkes, the manager of Buenos Aires Wildlife Refuge. We presented them with a memorandum of understanding for an agreement where we can continue placing much-needed jugs of water if we also commit to picking up twice as much trash. We hope to reach an agreement later in August.
In parallel to our desert activities, we are still working hard at pressing Homeland Security to provide better treatment to people in their custody, specifically to migrants in short-term custody held by Border Patrol. We met with Alan Bersin, the Border Czar, to discuss the findings in our report, Crossing the Line, along with other concerns.
On Capitol Hill, Senators Menendez and Gillibrand introduced a bill on July 30 called the Strong STANDARDS Act that contains requirements for short-term detention. Without the advocacy of No More Deaths, the issue of unregulated conditions in short term detention facilities would not have received this much deserved attention.
No More Deaths is grateful to all the volunteers putting time and energy into this wide array of issues - all with the goal of ending death and suffering in the desert.
Archangel Bless you and keep
Archangel
Bless you and keep you all who give direct aid to imperiled travelers. I will be praying for swift and true justice. Thank you Frere for bringing this before our hearts.
I worked with Secretary Salazar when he was District Attorney of Colorado while I was Chair of the Colorado State Grievance Board. He was born in 'the valley' a place in Southern Colorado that has a deeply ethnic Latino population who have endured many travails with governments and with the mainstream culture over two centuries and more. I believe he will continue to stand for humanity toward others. Stay close. Your mission heartens El Cristo, who also asked for water... and was given none.... until now.
this comes with peace and with love,
dr.e
Dr. Clarissa Pinkola Estés, Columnist NCR online
Paolo Villaggio, a famous
Paolo Villaggio, a famous Italian actor, now elder, was recently asked what he thought about the immigrant issue in Italy, he responded "we treat our domestic animals much better than immigrants. We have become a catholic people, and have forgotten that we are a Christian people".
I appreciate the news of Frère Charles from the border. It brings home the ridiculousness, unfairness and insanity of American immigration law, and how this unfairness (mercilessness) is dressed in fake issues/laws that have nothing to do with the subject at hand, ("littering" and “deterrence”) but it also brings home to me the notion that action can and must be taken, and that these efforts bring new awareness and real change to the human soul and its’ institutions. The telling of the stories of the work at the border is a "mapping of mercy ". Stories that map the human right to be assisted in suffering and peril. As Paolo Villiaggio also said, “letting in those in need at the border is a human law”. Should water and thirst be separated?
I miss the regular article
I miss the regular article and reflection from Clarissa. It's been since April since we've had a new one. When will hear more from the story-teller?
Peace,
Sarita
Dear Clarissa, Your words
Dear Clarissa,
Your words have long been inspirational to my own work.
I, too, miss the regular "The River Under the River" article and wonder if you have been silenced for your willingness to tell it like it is inside the Church?
If something more personal is keeping you from writing, I wish you well.
Let us hear how you are.
Blessings,
Jan
I have wondered over the
I have wondered over the months if I could really be alone in my perception that something felt very amiss in the response (or lack of) to “They tried to stop her at the Border” and the big issues that were put out there. I have tried to express this sensation, perhaps too indirectly as not to step on anyone’s feet or expose anybody, take a moralist tone or open an uncomfortable conflict that could end up not being fruitful. My indirectness didn’t work.
The sensation I have had over these months plainly said, is that the issue of this article, the immigrant, in need of aid, consideration, justice and response of the heart has not really been considered in any real or heartful way. That somehow it was glossed over and perceived as inconvenient, uncomfortable, in other words not particularly appreciated or really even heard. A border crossing was not possible. No one was waiting on the other side. I thought that with time the issue would open, be explored, but now I really wonder. This really saddens and disheartens me, for all of us involved, particularly those who really put their heart out there, for those whose life is really on the line, and for all of humanity and our future. I return to the dilemma of the endangered soul.
I have been sailing on the Mediterranean sea this August. I have thought a lot about the issue of the article and the issue of this sense of unfinished-ness I perceived in response to it. A stuck anchor came to mind. There is always a risk that an anchor gets stuck. When it happens one does not ignore it and cut the cord and sail away. A stuck anchor requires complete concentration and that various maneuvers are tried to release it that include deciphering whether or not it is the chain or the anchor that is stuck. Pulling until the point of stuck-ness and then tightly tying the cord to the boat and waiting, as the natural movement of the sea and subsequent rocking of the boat takes place may dislodge a stuck chain, moving the boat in a circle, gently trying every direction, and again firmly tying the cord and waiting for the assistance of the sea is the best way to dislodge an anchor that is stuck. In a worst case scenario, after trying and retrying the above maneuvers, one would cut the anchor cord and attach a buoy in order to return and retrieve the anchor with additional help (a diver). A sailboat needs an anchor.
I go on about the anchor because in the comments I have heard a tone of desire to just move on. Sometimes I even got the sense that a weekly article is perceived as some sort of “right”. This really leaves me at a loss in the face of what I perceive as terrible indifference to the issue of the immigrant in need, at the border, which is very contrary to individual need but a key issue of humanity and our responsibility in this moment of history that we are living.
I somehow feel that I have to speak to my tribe. The tribe of those born on the privileged side of the border, fully entitled to “U.S.A. rights”. The tribe that has many privileges, a number of which, are privileges that don’t even belong to us. A nation that was built on and in many ways culturally continues to believe in it’s right to build on, the sweat and blood of others. Those roots that seem too overwhelming to come to terms with: the massacre of the indigenous Americans, the Indians, the capturing and centuries of enslavement of Africans, and the more subtle but no less violent, greedy or utilitarian continuation of this history with our imperialist attitudes, ways and policies. Whether or not these are our ghosts, those people at the border deserve to be reckoned with, but because of our history, we have an entire sphere of our soul that as far as I can tell is a deadened blind spot. I would describe the blind spot as a place that inspires us to be anywhere but there, a place to ignore, a place from which we speak of ridiculous and selfish rights, a place of impatience, a place of denial and defense: hardened soul.
I think the softening can only come from looking at this hardness and considering our roots. Why and where is the anchor stuck and what can we do about it? Then “the sea” will come to our aid. We cannot just sail away. Humanity cannot afford it, which means neither can we. No one can “serve us” this in any form of service although we may yearn for a quick feel good fix. It is about the courage to take responsibility, to right the wrongs of our “fathers” to not repeat these sins in numb habit and passiveness but to chose humanity: life. To search until we find real justice, until we feel it, in our heart.
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