As we lift off, I’m drawn away from The New Yorker and to the view out of my window of the texture of Guatemala’s landscape. The hills and mountains, gulches and streams, and trees and fields all depict a fragmented place. This difficult terrain echoes the challenges and suffering the people of Guatemala have faced these past decades and still face today. Maybe one day I’ll have the knowledge and skills to eloquently and accurately describe the details of the history, for now I can only mention that there were externally generated tragically violent atrocities that have scarred a nation of many peoples to a point of questionable return. While every effort from outside and from within to help restore well-being to this country may add to its dignity and functionality, much the way reconstructive surgery may help a burn patient, there is no doubt that the distance from wholeness is far. And yet, there is a tremendously powerful message within that – a reminder that this sometimes tragic reality of brokeness that we live in is part of our Journey and that we can somehow miraculously find hope and light and even joy within and surrounded by the darkness of the present and the past.

I was gifted the opportunity to experience this reality on this jornada (medical mission).

The team I had the honor of joining was profound. Each person a beautiful amalgamation of experience forged in the great furnace of life, often glowing, and always conducting the gift of life and love through them, empowering others on the team. Laughter and smiles abundant, understanding was the general state of being, and cooperation came naturally and honestly. As far as I know, none of us were religious by any means, but I can’t but say that it seemed as if God’s grace was with us every step of the way.

It’s no secret that pain and suffering are a part of life for all of us at some point; for some more than others. For those of us blessed with lives easier than others, being around people who are less fortunate is a healthy and helpful reminder, perhaps even a gift. But having the opportunity to truly serve others, to laugh with them, to look into their eyes and acknowledge their suffering, to touch them with your hands and with your heart and know that you’re doing what you can to give them some relief is an experience beyond words and is worth many tears – tears of joy, of sadness, of overwhelm and of gratitude.

I had questions in my mind about this type of stopping in to another place to help others out. How would I feel about it (it is after all a complex issue)? Can we make a lasting change with one acupuncture treatment? It’s helpful to know that this wasn’t the first trip, and it won’t be the last. Another group will be visiting in April, and this group will be returning next fall and again next spring. This is also a part of an effort working towards a more permanent and sustainable clinic. However, I now believe that even this one time stop in was worth it. There are plenty of one-time experiences in life, and of yearly experiences, that are essential to our emotional, psychological, and physical well-being.

Already during the experience I pondered how I could share it. How could I describe the incredible sense of accomplishment of being a part of a team that treated over 900 people in under a week? Treatments that included more than just acupuncture, but also body movement exercises, bodywork, reiki and NADA (an auricular acupuncture protocol), and many of the patients received herbal medicine as well. How could I talk about the numbers and still honor each individual face or each pair of callused feet? Each acupuncturist treated around 160 patients in the week (to put into perspective is more than twice as many as students at my school will treat in their entire training). Having the opportunity to see so many conditions and see complete treatments put together in minutes is just awesome and exhilarating. But while quantifying helps give a sense of the scope of care, only words (and pictures) can describe the quality. Luciano, local director of the Barbara Ford Peace Center where we spent most of our time explained to us that most of these people rarely see doctors, and generally when they do, they’re treated poorly, more like a burden than anything else. The fact that we did our best to always be there with an open heart and gentle hands means a tremendous amount.

There was one more piece of the trip that had a powerful influence of the texture of the experience: the temascal, or sweat-lodge. Salvador and Sarah, a radiant couple, joined the jornada with the intention of creating a safe ritualistic space for men and for women to open up and heal emotionally and spiritually in a way that is culturally appropriate. We were also fortunate enough to have a couple of opportunities to sweat as a team. Being in the darkness, in the heat, and hearing the songs and prayers transported us to another realm of life – it allowed us to let go of anything we had absorbed (to sweat it out) and also ask for the support we needed. It opened our hearts and spirits and helped us be our best selves and do our best work.

I have returned home renewed. Full of gratitude and with a strong and open heart I move forward.