A cool rainy Thanksgiving morning.  I sit with my coffee, my family around, on a roof top patio in San Jose.  We arrived at dusk yesterday after a day-long bus ride from Boquete.  I like traveling by bus.  I really like the gentle people and the easy friendships.  The landscape is dramatic, deep canyons, white water rivers, tropical rainforest, raging oceans, ancient forests….and the language, oh the Latin language.

I lie awake at night conjugating verbs—los blessed verbos—-.  Anyhow, I have learned a few words.  “Olas” means waves.  “Alas” means wings.  The words for day “dias” and god “Dios” are almost the same.

“Malo” means bad in Spanish, but that same word meant “good” to the ancient Mayans.

I don’t remember what “breath” is in this moment, but I am remembering our beloveds, our family, friends, community with grateful breath.

Our journey is wonderful, just wonderful.  We are graced by the guidance of dark-skinned shining angels every day.

And now let us forever remember those immortal words of Brother Dan, “Remember, we are each a turkey in our own way.”

Love,  Georjean

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