I woke early, before the direct rays of the sun kissed my garden.
I sat on the steps of the kitchen door, absorbing the early morning activities of the garden – small and medium-size iguana lizards moving slow like molasses in winter, birds behaving like persons with attention deficit disorder, bees flying gracefully making pit stops on a vast array of flowers, and ants diligently at work cutting and transporting leaves.
This is a symbol of the Caribbean Eden! The “space” – the Spirit in the “space” received both forced and unforced people from the four corners of the globe, mixed them up like a Jamaican Saturday beef soup or a Trinidadian pelau, and the result? Hybridity – conscious and unconscious – music, language, art, religion, and the list goes on. . .
The Caribbean, the space in which the Paschal Mystery – Jesus’ suffering, death, and resurrection – is remembered, recalled, re-enacted, and relived. The Spirit accepted the rejected, included the excluded, welcomed those forced into its space, fed the hungry, chastised the oppressed, challenged false notions of human beings, liberated the imprisoned, broke the chains of systemic oppression, provided medicine to remember the past and to remember the ancestors, forged religious beliefs and rituals, created space for rebirth – the Caribbean Eden.
The Caribbean Eden – the conscious and unconscious space within which the divine becomes impregnated, gives birth, offers abundant life, and the space where the Spirit, the Lord and giver of life, blows where it wills.
The Caribbean Eden, that is, my garden. I return to the space. While I was pondering, the birds, bees, iguanas and ants continued to be drawn by the Spirit into the garden.
The Spirit never stops blowing and inviting. It’s forever at work, even during a pandemic.