Ok, so enough about the brain for a while! Let's talk about the wrist, my right wrist, to be exact. I wear
two friendship bracelets. I've been wearing them a number of years. One was given to me by a weaver from the Peruvian town of Chincheros at about 12,000 feet altitude in the Andes. Her name is Grimalda Quispe. I met her on the corner of the main square--the Plaza de Armas--in Cusco in 1987. The original encounter lasted about 10 minutes but made a tremendous impression on me--so much so that when I returned to Peru nine years later, I went looking for her. And yes, I found her. This time, with the help of a translator, we sat under one of the colonnades that line two sides of the Plaza and chatted about all sorts of things--our families, her weaving, the fact that I had been telling people for years now that she was the most wonderful salesperson in the world because of the way she had greeted me nine years earlier (I will post this story in its entirety soon). Since then, I have been to Grimalda's home twice. I've met all of her immediate family and a number of her extended family. I've learned from her the many aspects of her art, from the gathering of plants she uses for dyes to the many symbols she works into her weavings. Needless to say, I've also purchased a lot more weavings from her. They are in my home and in our office at San Luis Relationship Institute. I expect to see her again in 2012 when I plan to take a group of people (clients, friends) for a Peruvian adventure.
The second bracelet was given to me by a young lady named Milagros. Milagros means miracle. Who do you know with the English or American name of Miracle? What a name!
I met Milagros in Chinceros in 2000. She was a tiny thing. I thought she was about seven but later found out she was actually 11 at the time. That year, I took 13 of my clients and friends for a Peru adventure. My son, Ben, my buddy, Jim Brunelli of Fremont, CA was with me when we encountered her and David Britton, a buddy from Toronto, Canada. We had been looking at this amazing Inca wall--huge stones perfectly fitted together like puzzle pieces. All of a sudden, here was this little girl with the sweetest face and voice trying to sell us friendship bracelets for one sole--about 30 cents. She was such a delight, I went into my big-spender mode and bought bracelets for everyone of us.
Now, go figure. I found her again in 2004. She had grown a fair amount by then and was selling chicha(beer) for her mother. Another go figure. She remembered me. No kidding. A third "go figure". She gave me a couple of bracelets and a "keeper" for my eyeglasses.
So, why am I still wearing these bracelets? I mean, how well do I really know those two ladies? Honestly, not all that well. But here's the thing. Grimalda's bracelet reminds me that you never know who you're going to meet when you least expect it. You might be talking to the Picasso of Andean weaving (she is!). Somebody walks up to you on a street corner. You freel self-conscious. Maybe you brush them off. What a loss that would have been. Fortunately, that day I met her in '87, I was pretty open. Her warmth and magic
got through to me.
As to Milagros, I wear her bracelet because she reminds me of the spirit of the child, the miracle and beauty of holding on to our innocence, even as we grow older and learn more and more about the capcity humans have to hurt themselves and each other.
These two appreciations are exactly what led me to my Andrea. I was open and ready for adventure when a mutual friend introduced us by email. I was standing in my childish innocence, believing that even after 6 decades on the planet and a number of relationships, I could still find the person I was meant to be with.
So I wear these bracelets as gratitude to the two ladies of the Andes. I wear them to remember to be open and innocent. And I wear them to celebrate my love for Andrea whose heart and soul are as vast as the Andes, who is a great partner in the adventure of love and whose child is alive and ready to play at any given moment, on any given day.
C 2011 Bob Kamm
two friendship bracelets. I've been wearing them a number of years. One was given to me by a weaver from the Peruvian town of Chincheros at about 12,000 feet altitude in the Andes. Her name is Grimalda Quispe. I met her on the corner of the main square--the Plaza de Armas--in Cusco in 1987. The original encounter lasted about 10 minutes but made a tremendous impression on me--so much so that when I returned to Peru nine years later, I went looking for her. And yes, I found her. This time, with the help of a translator, we sat under one of the colonnades that line two sides of the Plaza and chatted about all sorts of things--our families, her weaving, the fact that I had been telling people for years now that she was the most wonderful salesperson in the world because of the way she had greeted me nine years earlier (I will post this story in its entirety soon). Since then, I have been to Grimalda's home twice. I've met all of her immediate family and a number of her extended family. I've learned from her the many aspects of her art, from the gathering of plants she uses for dyes to the many symbols she works into her weavings. Needless to say, I've also purchased a lot more weavings from her. They are in my home and in our office at San Luis Relationship Institute. I expect to see her again in 2012 when I plan to take a group of people (clients, friends) for a Peruvian adventure.
The second bracelet was given to me by a young lady named Milagros. Milagros means miracle. Who do you know with the English or American name of Miracle? What a name!
I met Milagros in Chinceros in 2000. She was a tiny thing. I thought she was about seven but later found out she was actually 11 at the time. That year, I took 13 of my clients and friends for a Peru adventure. My son, Ben, my buddy, Jim Brunelli of Fremont, CA was with me when we encountered her and David Britton, a buddy from Toronto, Canada. We had been looking at this amazing Inca wall--huge stones perfectly fitted together like puzzle pieces. All of a sudden, here was this little girl with the sweetest face and voice trying to sell us friendship bracelets for one sole--about 30 cents. She was such a delight, I went into my big-spender mode and bought bracelets for everyone of us.
Now, go figure. I found her again in 2004. She had grown a fair amount by then and was selling chicha(beer) for her mother. Another go figure. She remembered me. No kidding. A third "go figure". She gave me a couple of bracelets and a "keeper" for my eyeglasses.
So, why am I still wearing these bracelets? I mean, how well do I really know those two ladies? Honestly, not all that well. But here's the thing. Grimalda's bracelet reminds me that you never know who you're going to meet when you least expect it. You might be talking to the Picasso of Andean weaving (she is!). Somebody walks up to you on a street corner. You freel self-conscious. Maybe you brush them off. What a loss that would have been. Fortunately, that day I met her in '87, I was pretty open. Her warmth and magic
got through to me.
As to Milagros, I wear her bracelet because she reminds me of the spirit of the child, the miracle and beauty of holding on to our innocence, even as we grow older and learn more and more about the capcity humans have to hurt themselves and each other.
These two appreciations are exactly what led me to my Andrea. I was open and ready for adventure when a mutual friend introduced us by email. I was standing in my childish innocence, believing that even after 6 decades on the planet and a number of relationships, I could still find the person I was meant to be with.
So I wear these bracelets as gratitude to the two ladies of the Andes. I wear them to remember to be open and innocent. And I wear them to celebrate my love for Andrea whose heart and soul are as vast as the Andes, who is a great partner in the adventure of love and whose child is alive and ready to play at any given moment, on any given day.
C 2011 Bob Kamm
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