January, 2019
The other day while spending time in Quito I met a family introduced by a mutual friend. The husband was originally from Germany, lived in South Africa and then transferred to Ecuador. His wife is from Ecuador and they have had a very successful and fruitful life. We were having lunch with them and enjoying the meal and conversation. I remember thinking that this would not be a good family to introduce my identity to. I had a feeling that there would not be a good response, but twice the subject was introduced by Patrick and our friend who brought us to Quito.
The first time it was ignored, the second time while his wife was present, she expressed her great anger towards Che Guevara. She made no attempt to disguise her hatred of the man and what she felt he did. At this point I was glad I did not say anything about my heritage. But as she went about clearing the table and taking care of other things, I thought about it and realized I had to tell her who I was. I can not keep my story only for those who loved him. So I gathered up my courage and told her. She still was very angry, saying to me that I was not responsible for the actions of my father, I could not be blamed for who he was.
I was pretty uncomfortable with what was happening and in this kind of situation I usually cannot think straight, my brain does not function properly. But I smiled as I looked at her and said “You know I was very fortunate because I got to know him before I understood who he was. For me, I understood only his great love for me. There was so much love in him”. But she would not accept that he was capable of love and she, I could see, would only ever have hate for him. I believe it took great effort for her to fight against the urge to ask me to leave. Her anger and hate was from a personal experience, one not shared.
That night as I lay awake unable to sleep, I began to think about all the different things that happened during the day, our different conversations playing over in my mind. It came to me that all of my fathers hate and anger towards those he fought against, died with his body. For me it is only his great capacity for love that I share with him. All the difficult feelings from not just this day, but so many days in my life all seemed to fade with this realization. I was left with this amazing sense of peace and comfort knowing that it is this capacity for loving which is of the greatest importantance.
There is a video I have watched about Che’s life and his last days in Bolivia which was difficult for me to see. They filmed him as he was strapped to the struts of the helicopter and again as he was taken off the struts in Vallegrande, his face covered. When they removed the cover you could see his eyes were closed, but as they laid him down across the concrete sink in the hospital his eyes opened slowly. It is quite amazing to see as he had been dead for quite some time. Many people commented that he seemed to be grinning and that his eyes followed them as they moved around the room. Quite unsettling I should think. For me, it gives me comfort to believe that as he opened his eyes his spirit was able to look through his dead eyes and see those who feared and hated him as well as those who did not understand him. In these moments he was able to forgive, be forgiven and be released from his feelings of anger and hate. All that remained was Love, pure Love and this is what I had the great fortune to be part of.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=19NCZLRyN9E
It was this pure Love energy that he shared with me through my dreams and visions, and those times we shared when I left my body – our spirits allowed to share precious time together. It is this Love that has permeated my life, guiding me as I walk through my story. His spirit is strong in me and people are drawn to it. Although it is difficult to describe, I feel the truth of this when a complete stranger looks at me with recognition in his or her smile. I know they are responding to the vibration of his love coming through me. I used to be confused by the way people were drawn to me. I have always made so much effort to hide. But as I walk the busy streets of Quito or the quiet streets of Apuela I acknowledge those who stop and stare, smile and want to shake my hand, talk to me. I have come to realize they see more than who I am. It is very humbling.
I have struggled my whole life to understand the motivations of mans worst behaviours, being subjected to them as I was. It has been difficult to stop the anger and hate from taking hold, taking over. Every day I look for reasons to be positive, happy and find love in the moments. I pray always for resolution, for forgiveness and understanding for myself and those around me. It takes effort to fight against the desire to lash out against those who have hurt me, and it is not always easy to forgive. But while laying there that night, I understood I was granted a very beautiful and valuable gift. For me it is the key to understanding how to achieve true forgiveness. We must let go of the hate.
0 Comments