On Being a Guest.

In this case, an uninvited guest.

I have been in love with Mexico for longer than I know and certainly since way before I finally, finally drove my Subaru full of kids across the border for just an afternoon almost twenty years ago.

Why? I have a couple of theories. One is that Mexico feels a bit like a blend of France and Italy. It’s an ok theory. But the big one, the one that lights me up the most and the one I likely will never be able to prove is that it is very possible that I was conceived in Mexico. I love this possibility. My parents got married at the end of January, I was born at the end of December and there are many photos of them in Acapulco on their honeymoon, one of my mom driving a baby blue VW Bug and another one of her with a bunch of parrots on her arm. If they waited just a little bit after the wedding to get on the plane and if they hung out over here for a few weeks… voila! Their fiesta might have sealed my fate.

No matter what or where, I love Mexico in a way that I have not loved any other country.

I was born in France and then entered into an arranged marriage with the United States. It was not a bad marriage but I always knew that there was another love for me. When I met Mexico, I recognized it with my heart, it opened its arms to me, and we quickly became part-time lovers. It took more than a decade to make it official, and here we are today, living in a little house at the foot of the jungle and feeling very right.

My son commented to me last week that I now have a slight Spanish accent when I speak English (which I have never spoken without an accent anyway) and even though my French still flows fluidly, I am making peace with the fact that I speak everything with bits of everything else. This is not just about speaking but also about being. I am … nothing. Not fully French, never truly American and I know that I will never be Mexican.

There can be a bit of grief to this, a bit of rootlessness, if I let it. Some days I do and most days I don’t. But on all days, I know that my best ally, the one that will keep me well as I navigate the mixed waves is … Humility.

Humility means understanding that instead of being here to teach, I am here to learn. And then to learn some more. My ways are not better and even if they were, it would not matter. I am here to learn and the curriculum is vast.

Humility means remembering that no matter what official papers say and no matter how long I buy my groceries here, I am a guest. Being a guest is a gift, an honor. It is something to cherish and to care for. And it is something that can be revoked, if not officially, implicitly. I try to metaphorically not put my feet on the table, and I accept my place as really, not just a guest, but also an uninvited one. This is a big distinction. I did not receive an invitation based on how much people knew they would enjoy having me here. Instead, I showed up. So yes, I am an uninvited guest. Which is kind of cool because it means I get to try to make sure (most) people are glad I came. Again, humility. Even - or especially - in the midst of contribution.

I yield the way on the sidewalk when there is only room for one person to pass, I accept that my mere presence may feel weird to people sometimes, too. I connect heart to heart as much as I can and I am deeply, deeply moved by the love that often comes my way, the frequent non-spoken “we’ve decided that you’re okay” smiles.

It’s a dance, maybe something akin to marrying into a family from another culture. Some days I trip or step on my own toes, but then I hear the music and I get back up.

This week is Dia de Muertos which is my favorite holiday, a profoundly beautiful tradition. For the next few days, people will honor their dead with a joyful celebration, inviting them to visit on the night of November 1st. Altars with bright orange flowers, food, and a sense of love and gratitude are in the air. As much as I cherish Christmas with my family, I have never met a celebration that fed me so much.

I am so glad to get to live here and I am so very very happy to learn every day the sweet lessons that live at the crossroads of humility, contribution, and joy.