Neuroscience is big on mapping even the smallest thoughts in the human brain. When we think a thought, or even try to ignore a thought, our brain neurons fire and oxygen is pulled into the bloodstream which creates spatial patterns in the brain. Over time, positive thoughts increase wellbeing and health, while negative can bring on depressions and cognitive decline. I was looking at an intricate ceramic mosaic set into a wall in Ciutat Vella or Old Town of Valencia, and I started wondering what spatial patterns had I created on the walls of my brain by giving them pause, energy and oxygen? After living in Spain for three months, and finally finding some equilibrium, I hoped my positive neural pattern was a beautiful mosaic.
The second month in Valencia undoubtably made some warped spatial patterns… after falling down wet marble stairs during a cloudburst; during a shakedown at the grocery checkout due to a faux pas bringing my trolley inside; during my gaffe in a posh bakery attempting to order apple tarts, tarta de manzana, and instead asking for melanzna, which is eggplant… I laugh these blunders off, and pray I didn’t unwittingly give these small episodes too much oxygen and spacial graffiti in my brain. Because sometimes at night, while going over my day, it is very easy to dwell and beat myself up for not being perfect. But as the old Latin phrase goes Omnium Rerum Principia Parva Sunt – “The beginning of all things are small.” So I remind myself, these are my small humble beginnings.
In truth, despite being lost in translation most moments of the day and dealing with a cacophony of sounds in a close quartered ancient city, I’m better equipped now to dial down and shake things off. I frequently say “I love it here,” and mean it, even with the ongoing construction next door, my neighbor’s clacking heels, inebriated loud laughter echoing from the two restaurants below, reverberating fireworks, and the street sweeper swishing by. Admiration for Valencianos, their history, and their beautiful city fills my radar instead. My nervous system and brain have adapted to the chaos and noise and no longer makes small irritants big and unbearable. But I have more stretching and growing to do, as I can’t converse beyond a sentence or two with the friendly woman behind the counter at the local bakery, or shoot the breeze with the knowledgeable museum docent who wants to chat about Murillo and Velasquez, or do a simple but big thing like make Spanish friends when I am out walking or exploring, as my vocabulary is limited to a few words about the weather or ordering at a restaurant.
Emily Dickinson understood pushing through difficult, growing moments that make you want to tuck tail and run:
“If your Nerve deny you, Go above your nerve….If your Soul Seesaw, Lift the Flesh door, The Poltroon wants oxygen, Nothing more.”
When my cowering nerve tells me I am not bold enough to explore on my own, I explore anyway. When my nerve tells me my imperfect communication skills in Spanish are a shambles, I try to communicate anyway. When my knees, hands and ego are bruised from falling and failing, I get up and go on anyway. My reason for being, my raison d’être, is to learn and grow and to make beautiful kaleidoscope patterns in my mind and my life.
“A big life starts with doing small things” Chitra Divakaruni
This morning a sunrise, I leaned out the window and admired the amber glow of the ornate street lights bathing the buildings in a dreamy ochre, and enjoyed the resonance of the Cathedral bells in Plaza de al Reina. My neighbor opened his window and sent Italian opera and Parlami D’amore to the heavens, and I was filled wonder over breakfast. A concert pianist somewhere below starting practicing his scales and classical pieces which blanketed the ensuing construction noise. The local tour guide began instructing students about the significance of the water and fountain in the plaza, and I took it all in and was reminded I am still a student of life lessons. Fragments of joy are all around us, and it is what our brain wants to give oxygen to, if we let it. It’s what our heart needs to be enlivened — oxygenated, soaring thoughts pumped throughout our bodies and minds.
In order to achieve this goal of enriching my thoughts, I watched a Spanish series, Las Chicas del Cable (The Cable Girls), and started a book by Spanish author Vicente Blasco Ibanez, Woman Triumphan, to try and get incrementally better with comprehension. Enunciated Spanish from DuoLingo and Rosetta Stone is not the mumbled, truncated Spanish of Valencia I’m desperately trying to grasp. Hopefully a combination of Spanish TV dramas with subtitles, listening and reading and becoming familiar with slang and colloquialisms will get my brain better attuned.
“I winked at my own littleness, as people do at their own faults.” Gulliver’s Travels
On a whim last week I skipped the grocery store and ventured into the Mercat market. I had wandered in a few times but never purchased anything as I had difficulty ordering in grams and kilos. Instead of listening to my poltroon, and going for the ease of the grocery store, I stood rooted in line, determined to get the clementines I wanted. Above me were freshly cut verdant grape clusters hung on fishing line that dazzled like chandelier. Colorful purples, oranges and red fruit surrounded me and made me dizzy with wonder. I walked home with my bag overflowing with citrus, nectarines and grapes. Such a small thing to use your voice and repeat yourself when not understood, but this minuscule move on my part opened up a giant new world to me.
The next morning I reversed my walk on the old Turia riverbed turned park and stumbled across a children’s park with Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver stuck in the sand fighting off the tiny Lilliputians. I nodded at this mythical character trying to get up and get his footing. I too, a Gulliver, was fighting off the small irritants in a foreign place and trying to get my footing and stand upright. I promised myself I would no longer be tied and held down by tiny cords of my own littleness of thoughts, emotions and fear.
The Fundación Bancaja brought in a Joaquin Sorolla exhibit from his Museo in Madrid. Sorolla excelled at sunlit water scenes of Valencia, Sao Sebastian, Paris and Rome and was called the “Spanish painter of light.” He was a prolific painter on odd pieces of cardboard and small boards. I popped in and looked at his minuscule paintings of everyday life– snapshots of individuals stepping into light and basking there— and they resonated with me. Looking at his minute works, some just barely the size of my hand, I understood again an enlightened choice of letting go of small thoughts, baggage and chains that hold me back, and embracing little gems of beauty. This shift would insure we live life on a grander scale in Spain.
“There are people who can do big things, but there are very few people who will do the small things.” Mother Teresa
One of the reasons we picked Spain to live was to try and do some genealogy for Steve’s Spanish side. Over the course of a month we found in order to get information on his grandfather, a birthdate and region of Spain was not enough, we needed to know the exact city where he lived. It seemed such a small thing to hang up a search. Steve spent hours searching online records, city by city and eventually came across his grandfathers’s name on a webpage. But, he but could not open the document to see if it was a match. I sent an email with my broken Spanish to the site asking about this document, and a week later I got an email with a copy of the report. Sure enough, it was his grandfather, and it confirmed the city where we needed to take the train in order to start searching for his family members.
An ember, a mere spark makes a fire when given enough oxygen. When I was a child, my mom used to burn our ditch banks every year to clear the weeds but to also encourage new growth. The brunt scared aftermath was hard to look at but after a month or two, green shoots always sprung up from the ash. I see myself of having passed through a fire, one of many to pass through living in Spain and throughout a lifetime, and now happiness is growing through the char. We will find Steve’s ancestors, and we will find ourselves in the process, we will find doing small things in a foreign country during a world pandemic can lead to large dividends. We are going “above our nerve.” It’s a spark but the ember should take. All beginnings are small but here’s to making them bigger. Wish us luck.
The Unhurried Traveler 
Leave a comment