Mind: The Gap (Part 2 – Seeing Angels)

If the city were an animal, then Downtown Santiago would certainly be the meatiest part – the buttocks, perhaps. This is the part of the city where the interesting people are, where protests take place, where change begins. It’s the place where the different strata of society pulse together in a steady rhythm, like a heart.

So, to reiterate, if the city were an animal, then Downtown Santiago would be the heart-buttocks part of the animal. I’m not sure which animal (I’m not a farmer), but it’s certainly a noisy one.

For example, let’s go to the intersection of two streets – Huerfanos and Ahumada. Here are some of the noises you’ll find:

The cacophony of shoes on pavement: “…Clopclopclopclopclopclop…!”

The melodies of street musicians: “…WORDS OF THE PROPHETS ARE WRI-…!”

The street vendors selling chocolate bars: “TRE’ POR LUKA! TRE’ POR LUKA!”

The repetitive call of the man selling copies of a newspaper called El Segunda: “Ssssssssss’gndahhh!… Ssssssssss’gndahhh!”

A lot of sound comes out of that tiny man.

Sometimes, on very special days, there is another sound bursting above the general rabble. Near the corner of Huerfanos and Ahumada there occasionally stands a man with a Bible open across the palm of one frail hand. He uses his free hand to gesture to the passing public, or up towards Heaven. And he preaches.

He is a broomstick with flesh wrapped around it, adorned with a really old suit. He grooms himself as well as he can, but his outfit shows signs of wear. His cuffs are frayed, his shoes are tarnished, and his jacket is sullied. Despite these signs of attrition, he is a proud man on a mission – to deliver the word of God to the people, angrily.

In the pursuit of happiness, some people dance


The Preacher has the ability to elevate his voice above the rabble, and to sustain that volume for what I’m sure must be hours every day. There’s a kind of vehemence in his voice, an outrage that the world is in the state that it’s in. He slaps his palm onto the open face of the Bible occasionally before reading a passage or two and then interpreting it for the hundreds of people who aren’t listening. Now, to be fair, I’ve only ever watched him for a few minutes at a time, but I’ve never seen anyone stop and pay him any serious attention. This makes me wonder just how much satisfaction he gets from his task.

Some people challenge puppets to musical competitions…
…and lose.

I picture the Preacher waking up in the mornings. This man in his fifties or sixties, pulling on his worn-out trousers, buttoning his shirt up to the collar, pushing his slender arms into the sleeves of his worn out jacket. What does he think about, as he stares into his reflection while brushing his teeth? Does he think, “Today, I am going to make a difference”?

Does he have a wife who kisses him on the cheek as she hands him his Bible, proud of her man going to do God’s work? Or perhaps he lives with a sibling, and the sibling’s family. Does he have nieces and nephews who talk about their “odd uncle” who goes and shouts in the middle of Downtown Santiago for a few hours every day?

Maybe he lives alone. I can picture a man, stripped down to vest and boxers, spending part of his nights sitting on the edge of an ancient single bed, stooped, head bent, hands dangling between his knees, considering whether he had done enough today. Or perhaps he lies down on those old, squealing springs, tucks his hands behind his head, and smiles because he is satisfied that he has pushed more of God’s goodness into the world.

Here is a man who sees a world in peril and in his desperation to save it he spends his time shouting into the void. Here is a man with a contract with God and no one else. A man who sees demons everywhere, and who is trying to let the angels in. At the heart of it, I wonder this: In the pursuit of happiness, an elderly man foregoes a job to go out and get angry. So where does he gain his happiness from? Is it from the knowledge that he is being a good man even though no one else is? Or is it from the thought that maybe his words will fall on at least one set of open ears, and that maybe he has actually set the course of the world on a infinitesimally better tack? I truly hope that this is the case. I hope so from the bottom of my heart (my heart-buttocks). And if that is the thought that gives his mind happiness, then who am I to object?

For others, happiness is speaking up against injustice.



A Doormat, a Mirror, and a Table

I very recently acquired a new laptop. Now I am only three objects away from attaining true happiness:

A doormat, so I won’t have to keep sweeping my living room floor.

A mirror, so that  I can watch television while I am in the kitchen.

A table, so that I’ll have a comfortable place to write.

Once I get those things I will be truly happy.

Little Mermaid
“I’ve got whosits and whatsits galore. But who cares? No big deal, I want a doormat, a mirror, and a table.”

Now, I know that possessions do not bring happiness. Believe me, I know. I’ve moved enough times over the past six months to learn to despise possessions. Every time I’ve had to recklessly shove teacups into a duffel bag, I’ve thought to myself, “Why do I own so much? I don’t need these things in my life.” If anything, possessions seem, at times, to be a source of woe. Especially when you need to cart them from one part of town to another. Take, for example, my backpack. It is something I need for work, and so during the week I find myself hustling all over town with my possessions on my back, like a well-dressed tortoise. I don’t have a bicycle, so I only use public transport or travel around on foot. And doing all this with a bag on my back really slows me down. When I need to run, screaming, across the road before the light changes, it takes so much more effort and makes me feel far from graceful. However, when the weekend descends I get to leave my apartment with nothing but the clothes I’m wearing and as many toys as I can shove into my pockets. I feel totally free. I feel light and liberated, like a naked tortoise. Then when I run, screaming, across the road before the light changes, I do so feeling like a champion ballet dancer, fully in control of my body.

See those things? I own those things. Except for the person. I’m not allowed to own a person.

It’s happiness that we all want, and I think that if you’re searching for it by accumulating things, then you’re probably looking in the wrong place. This is something that I have become acutely aware of over the past few years. I have had the unbelievable privilege of being able to travel to various parts of the world, meet the most curious people, see unique wonders, and taste exotic foods. I have developed an appreciation for life that I try very hard not to take for granted. I have discovered what true happiness is, and now I am certain that I am just a doormat, a mirror, and a table away from achieving it. And a bicycle, I suppose, since that would eliminate the hassle of walking.

The reason I’d like a doormat, as I have mentioned, is because I have to regularly sweep the dust out of my apartment. Or, rather, I tend to sweep it into a corner because I don’t have a dustpan so I just have to vacuum it up once a week. Without a doormat, the dust gathers so quickly that it is often uncomfortable to walk around in my living room. My feet get dirty after crossing the room just once. It makes me think that I should get a carpet to put across the floor to make it more pleasant to walk on.

The mirror, as I have mentioned, would be put to practical use: I would hang it on the wall so that when I am in the kitchen I can still watched the TV. I have the perfect place to put the mirror – there are still several nails jutting out from the walls from where the previous tenant had hung pictures. I’m really glad that those nails are there, because not only does it give me a perfect place to hang my mirror, but if I decide to hang pictures up I’ve already got the perfect places to put them.

Apart from the doormat, the mirror, the bicycle, the carpet, and the picture frames, I also just need a table to render my happiness complete. You see, all I really want is a comfortable place to be alone and to write. I have a laptop now, so I don’t need to be producing blogs from my phone anymore. It’s a wonderful piece of machinery, with a wide screen and a comprehensive keyboard. The speakers are a bit quiet, but I can always buy external speakers. I really just need a place to put my equipment because right now I’m literally using my lap top for my laptop.

But once I get my table, mirror, door mat, bicycle, carpet, picture frames, external speakers, and table, I’ll be content. I’ll also add dustpan to that list, because I like to keep things tidy. But once I have those things, then I am certain that I will have attained true happiness.

I could also do with a new Kindle because mine broke a few months ago.