Image by Jessica Foster via Facebook
The Mayans believed it to be sacred. That it connected the underworld, the terrestrial, and the skies. It was the stitching that held together the spiritual with the earthly. The descendants of the Maya leave the La Ceiba tree standing when harvesting forests and cultivating the land.
The La Ceiba tree in Villa Soleada is impressive. It is about 70 feet tall, surpassing all nearby trees. It has a thick, smooth, branchless trunk, and a wide sprawling canopy. The roots themselves are impressive. They act as a buttress at the base of the tree, in a distinctive cuneate shape, the full height of a person. The tree stands alone at the edge of the community, overlooking the naked fringes.
There is a wooden conference table in a small room of the economics house. During La Ceiba class, students gather around with Dr. H at the head. Class after class they gather at that table. They talk about Villa Soleada, microfinance, and Ivan Illich. Dr. H asks the impertinent question, encourages scrutiny, and students respond in kind. They accept the challenge, explore their motivations, and take ownership of their work. This is where La Ceiba started. In that small room, around that wooden table, on the fringe of campus, a small group of students decided to start a microfinance organization.
In the midst of organizational change, I went to Honduras for a few months. There was no escaping the reality this time. With the distance removed, the time constraint lifted, I was exposed to the reality of Honduran life. Over time, the exposure revealed to us what we already suspected: beyond our product, something special was crystallizing. It drew strength from the trust and respect that we worked so hard to earn. So much so that a baker and his wife were willing to take a chance on us, to place their faith in our judgement, that we would do the best we could to offer them a useful product. That moment in our growth was defined over the phone. During that call, feeling high tension, and 2,000 miles apart, a small group of devoted students decided to let La Ceiba grow.
The seats on Spirit airlines don’t recline and seem intentionally narrow. I squirmed in my seat as the man next to me snored loudly. I had just said goodbye, I thought perhaps I should be more emotional. But at 1 am with a sore butt and an achy back, I just felt empty inside. As we landed I was shepherded off of the plane, walked to the next gate, and waited in a crowded room with a low ceiling and dim lighting. A creeping anxiety had taken over. The realization that it was over began to sink in. As time when by, the days went unfulfilled. The search for meaning dwindled. How can we just walk away from something to which we devote so much? Why can’t this thing, this idea, this beautifully flawed tree, grow into a beacon? Why can’t we give it the light and the water that it needs to continue its work? Or the space to grow tall and wide? What is the next step, the next defining moment in this story of a slow steady struggle toward meaning?
We try wholeheartedly to make a difference, in the process we undergo a transformation that changes us forever. But we leave our work behind, unfinished and full of potential, and we enter a world that asks us to compromise. We are taught to suppress that which we let blossom, we are conditioned not to question, encouraged to forget what gave us so much power, and if we resist we are dismissed as naïve. Too naïve.
The work must go on. The class needs to evolve. Despite living at the margins, the La Ceiba tree makes itself noticed, it grows and flourishes, it does the quiet work of holding our world together.
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