Eyes Wide Open
By the grace of God (the Universe), I had the ability to travel with my youngest daughter, my dearest friend Maria, and her niece to stay with her mother in Cuba for two weeks. For all of us our favorite destination during our stay was a beautiful beach, surrounded by sand dunes covered in green plants, bushes and palm trees. To make that beautiful view of light green and blue water even more visually appealing, there was a fresh water river that emptied into the crashing waves of the ocean. On one side of the river was the parking area lined with vintage cars from the 50’s and a palm frond hut used to sell cool drinks to the tourists. On the other side stood a tropical cabana from where you could rent large sun umbrellas, lounge chairs and lobster meals delivered from the local hotel hidden from the view of the beach going tourists.
On this particular trip, my daughter and Amanda (Maria’s niece) had gone on a long walk along the ocean leaving me to relax and make a futile attempt to nap on a lounge chair after spending the previous night enjoying a cabaret event at the historical Tropicana. Maria stood a few feet away having a nice conversation with a Cuban couple vacationing for the day with their two children.
As I headed back to the parking area to make another stab at getting some sleep in Maria’s car, a 1957 metallic red and white Chevy, she introduced me to a Buddha bellied, middle aged, Cuban man dressed in a bright neon green, long sleeved shirt, gray swim shorts sporting a straw sunhat. With a sparkle in his eye, a jovial laugh and a warm spirit he offered me a glass of guarapo (freshly squeezed sugar cane juice). I declined the invitation. My immediate mission was to get to that car and sleep, but I felt I needed to stay for a minute and participate at least as a listener to their conversation.
As it turns out, Jorge was also a Cuban American like Maria. They were both sharing their great fortune of having taken the risks necessary to flee from Cuba to become legal American citizens. When we described our time at the Tropicana the previous evening, they both shared the fact that when they grew up in Cuba being admitted into that venue and others like it would never have been possible. They didn’t have the economic ability. They were poor. Only wealthy Cubans and tourists could afford a night out like that. Jorge, after 24 years of living in the US, had amassed enough money to buy a local beach house close to the area we were visiting. Maria was explaining her same story for she too was about to pen the title to her beach house on the other side of the island.
While Maria headed back to our rented lounge chairs to begin her much needed nap, I stood a little humbled and quiet processing a deep awareness of the risks they took for the opportunity to change their lives and their families’ financial futures. Jorge with his smiley, kind face and neon shirted belly was happy to continue talking. The more he spoke, the more curious I became. This man was the essence of gratitude. He exuded appreciation for everything around him, the beauty of the beach, this day given to him to be alive, the joy to spend time with his family. He even pointed out the great fortune of the gray clouds parting to make way for the sun and blue sky.
As I asked questions, Jorge went deeper into his story of how he overcame some very difficult challenges and how he found himself back in Cuba with his family. No longer did I want to sleep. I wanted to listen. I wanted to learn and to hear about another soul’s rising from the ashes, just like I had over this past decade.
So it began one morning with Jorge asking God, “La Conciencia,” for a mere $1.25 to buy a coke and a water at a restaurant. During the 2008 housing market crash he had lost everything—his three homes in Miami, his wife because he no longer had money and his dignity by having to sleep on the couch of a kind friend who took him in for a few months until he could get a foothold on his life again.
That particular morning he awoke full of gratitude for everything he did have in his life, including the beautiful sky. Once he sent out his request into the universe, Jorge set out to begin his day by strolling down a sidewalk. As he walked he looked aimlessly down until he spotted three pennies. He paused and thought, Should I pick them up? It was only three pennies, but then again it was three pennies—right there in front of me.
All he had to do was look and they appeared. With the coins now in his hand, he felt a little lighter, a little more hopeful. He only had another $1.22 to go. As he walked without a clear path before him, he kept finding change along the way, a few more coins here and some others there. He kept adding up the coins he found while subtracting from what he had requested. While gaining money he was also gaining hope, faith and wonder. Eventually he was up to $1.00. All he had to do was walk in no particular direction with his eyes wide open.
With the final .25¢ held firmly in his fist, Jorge understood, he could ask for anything. So why stop at $1.25? Ask and you shall receive became his truth starting that day. “And why limit the asking? There are no limits. Only we set the limits; the possibilities are limitless,” said Jorge. I heard him; I understood him. I saw him. I was having an Alchemist moment (an excellent, inspirational book written by Brazilian author Paulo Coelho about manifesting your destiny).
This year I know things will be completely different and I knew Jorge was guiding me to step towards reaching my long lost dreams. He began to cry, a little embarrassed. My eyes met his. In his eyes were the tears of looking back to his past and realizing just how far he had come. Mine were for the understanding of his past, for I too had lost so much in recent years.
Before our conversation came to an end, Jorge wanted to share one last piece of wisdom. We were standing by the fresh water river effortlessly emptying the clear, light blue water into the ocean. On the other side of the river was a small hill with palm trees swaying in the wind. He said, “Tina, always keep the doors presented to you open. For example, let’s say you need to get from Point A to Point B (pointing to the green tropical hill a few yards away). Just ask “La Conciencia” for a ride, but if you stand waiting only expecting a taxi to pass by you may never get to your destination. Your mind needs to be open as a bicyclist rides by because even though it’s not what you expected, it is “La Conciencia” answering your request. He is delivering to you; he is answering you, but only if you keep those doors (your mind) wide open.”
As the conversation wrapped up, I knew this experience was like that taxi in the form of a bike. I needed to simply ask the Universe what I have long been wanting to achieve, keep my eyes and mind open and follow the path of open doors, one step at a time.