It seems that intersections make people uneasy. Symbolic intersections, at least. The kind where you’ve been travelling along a path for a while, quite comfortably (even, sometimes, automatically), and then you come upon something you weren’t necessarily expecting. Now you have both a realization, your comfort zone is about to change, and a choice, which way do you go?
The thing about intersections, though, is that they’re not just about where one changes direction and keeps going. They’re also about where two (or more) come together and merge into one, even if just briefly.
For various reasons, I’m very comfortable in those spaces, where choices are made and comfort zones are left. Where two or more things come together to form something new. The transition is what I love. The space between the before and the after. The old and the new. For me, this is the most exciting and vital space, the space of creation, when one thing is no longer quite what it was but the new thing isn’t quite there yet.
This is what I’m living right now. I’m in the process of moving from Canada to Mexico, and right here, right now, and from now on, I am and will be a living, breathing intersection of the two countries, the languages, the culture, and the environment.
I’m also very interested in the intersection between the human and the divine. In the last few years, I’ve meditated and written much on the moments in everyday life when the veil between the two becomes so thin that one can’t actually discern which is which. When the “divine” appears here in the human world, and when what is “human” appears to be divine.
Given all of this, I’m instinctively drawn to a Mexican figure who embodies the intersection of many dualities: Our Lady of Guadalupe. Details of the miraculous story of Our Lady can be found in numerous places, so I won’t explain everything here. (I highly recommend the video series called “Introduction to Our Lady of Guadalupe,” a series of lectures given by Luis Fernando Castaneda Monter.)
Basically, though, Mary appeared to a poor man named Juan Diego in 1531 and asked him to build a church for her. When Juan told the bishop about his encounter, the bishop didn’t believe him. When Mary next appeared to Juan and he told her of the bishop’s disbelief and refusal to build a church, she asked him to go pick some flowers and bring them to the bishop. Juan did exactly that, and when he unfolded his cloak to reveal the flowers, he revealed instead a glorious image of Our Lady, emblazoned onto the material. Everyone present was astonished at this miracle, and, of course, a church was built. That very same cloak now hangs in Mexico City’s Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe.
I’ve been to see her, and I love her. Not just because I was born and raised Catholic. And not just because I’ve always had a deep reverence for and fascination with mystical and miraculous things, divine things, appearing in the human world. It’s also not just because I love Mexico, and Mexico loves her.
I love Our Lady of Guadalupe because she fully represents the vitality and creativity that I’m so drawn to. She is the quintessential intersectional figure. In her symbolism–indeed, in her very existence–she embodies the coming together of Spanish Catholicism and Mexican indigenous peoples. Historically, she stands at the threshold of new and old worlds.
However, she’s not just a religious and historical figure. She is alive in the hearts and homes of most Mexicans, in Mexico and abroad, even today. And not just in their homes. You can catch glimpses of her anywhere you look. In rural areas, shrines with her image pop up in the middle of the countryside. In cities, she appears in stores, restaurants, car washes, taxi stands, and numerous other public, social places. Her image is attached to trees along busy boulevards. Tiny shrines hang precariously under giant overpasses. I even saw a graffiti version of her once, her familiar outline sprayed on a garage door.
In this way, she also serves as an intersection of the religious and the secular. Outside of churches and people’s homes, she participates in regular everyday life. She’s ever present, in the midst of our humanity, silently observing us as we pass.
In the idea of observation, is another type of duality: that of the gaze. In the scientific world, it’s understood that the gaze has two functions. One is to gather information for oneself, and the other is to convey information to others. When we see Our Lady out in our everyday world, what or whom exactly do we see? What does it mean to see her in all kinds of different places outside of churches?
And, more to my interest, what does Our Lady see when she looks at us? When she observes us rushing around in our everyday lives? What do we show her?
That brings us to this blog. Using one of my own glimpses of Our Lady out in the world as the focal point for each entry, I want to explore Mexico by imagining what she sees. Of course, it’ll ultimately be through my own eyes and in my own voice, creating yet again more dualities–between Our Lady and me and in the sense that my sharing what I see will allow you to see me.
Now, just because each entry will start with Our Lady doesn’t mean that I’m going to talk about religion or spirituality all the time. But I might sometimes. This will be my opportunity to tell stories, philosophize, and talk about anything and everything under the Mexican sun. More than a religious symbol, Our Lady will be present as a consistent reminder of the duality of this human experience and as a representation of lives in intersection. Each glimpse of her will lead me down a path examining these convergences.
Complementing each blog entry after this introduction will be a guided meditation. The blog and the meditations will be stand-alone entities, though connected in spirit. You won’t need to listen to the meditations in order to read the blog, and you won’t need to read the blog in order to listen to the meditations. They can be enjoyed separately or together, as you wish.
Please consider coming with me on this adventure. I look forward to sharing Glimpses of Guadalupe with you!
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