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Grandpa Paco leaves Spain for the first time; he comes to visit us in Switzerland.

He’s a calm, open person. It doesn’t matter how much time he has left, he shares it with others generously, selflessly. Together we built a dream tree-house in the big oak tree next to the house.

Going for a walk with him in the village is a real pleasure. This little man loves everything that passes before his eyes (the whole of Switzerland, in fact!); it’s very enjoyable being with him. However, he doesn’t speak a word of French, not the slightest thing, but he doesn’t give a hoot, so much so that it is almost something to behold.

For example, when we come across a man who is busy feeding begonias, geraniums or other exotic specimens in his garden with croquettes (yes, I know, you shouldn’t give beef to begonias!), Paco goes up to the fence and immediately starts up a conversation:

‘Hola ! Mira que flores tan bonitas teneis usted!’

Disconcerted, the amateur gardener retorts with something along the lines of:

‘Euh... sorry, I... no comprendo.’

So my grandpa gesticulates, points to the flowers in the garden to congratulate him on their beauty, ‘cos he thinks they are (of course...!) exceptional. The budding horticulturalist, touched by the compliment, gives him an embarrassed thank you (no need to know the language to understand a real thank you).

Grandpa Paco carries on straightaway, speaking about lots of other things (in Spanish) without being in the least bit bothered by the consternation of the man he is speaking to. The Swiss man, respectful by nature, concentrates in order to understand and reply as best he can. Removed from his conventional and rather tedious comfort zone of things left unsaid, there he is now, engaged in the adventure of a ‘discussion’ full of exotic colours.

So I am witness to the birth of a new kind of jargon, unique to them and which will only ever belong to them both. It’s made up of words borrowed from their two respective languages, large gestures nearing choreography, stammered phrases and reciprocal laughs. When my grandfather goes back to his walk where he left off, the two new pals warmly say and wave goodbye to each other. The gardener goes back to his plot, his nose in his flowers (it is well known that begonias kiss you on the nose if you feed them correctly), with an added smile (that must have brought back memories of his holidays).

That’s what my grandpa was like: everyone loved him (it was impossible to do otherwise).

Granddad’s loveliest present
Granddad’s tree-house is no more.
It was completely dismantled over time, but it has remained intact in my memory. And, strangely, despite the years that have gone by, the gratitude that I had for that exceptional present still lives in me.

Granddad is no more, either 
But he left me this fantastic lesson of life, which had nothing to do with school, by simply being himself. Watching him, I understood that the desire to enter into contact with your neighbour (as well as with those who live further away) is more important than the means of achieving it. Because a lack of means is often an excuse for not facing up to the fact that the real barriers are prejudices.

But the loveliest present that my granddad left me is, even more, an exceptional mother, who would not have been the same without him.

 

* It’s on this trip that he also sees the sea for the first time.

 

This article in: French   Spanich   German"
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  string(1063) "Les feuilles du bonheur
Aujourd’hui je traverse la forêt et c’est WOW!
Les feuilles dansent devant moi.
j’ai l’impression d’être un chef de guerre rentrant victorieux de ses batailles et accueilli avec des confettis… lol!
Non sérieux, ça a quelque chose d’émouvant… car ces feuilles ne tomberont qu’une seule fois! et 	c’est moi qui les aient vues… chaque instant de qualité dans nos vies est unique aussi, elles ne seront Jamais identiques: 
les regretter te tue, mais les kiffer aux présent te rends vivant.
(Là!!! Maintenant, juste là! regarde autour de toi examine les beaux côté de ta situation, c’est peut-être un aussi un de ces moments!)

Le cheval glorieux
Au sommet de la forêt, sur mon chemin. Je croise un cheval noir fougueux vraiment ma-gni-fi-que! Je ne peux m’empêcher d’en faire part à sa cavalière. Elle ne fait qu’un avec son destrier, et a quelque chose de digne, franchement c’est si beau. 
Elle me répond un accent de paysan du coin:
-Oui, oui, il est beau, mais kesk’il est con!"
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When God gets involved

 






It’s a veritable battle! I parry energetically but the enemy is stubborn and I’m feeling out of my depth. Despite my razor-sharp weapon, I can see no way out...But this is no sword I’m talking about, just a simple pencil, you see, I’m actually just a guy who draws for a living.

I try to update an old sketch, but the guy in the drawing’s having none of it. It doesn’t matter how much I rub him out and try to rework him, there’s always something that’s not quite right! It’s just that perfection is important to me, that’s all!

 – Oh Lord help me...

    I gaze at the drawing in question: it depicts Jesus, full of compassion, lending a hand to a prostitute and an alcoholic down and out (behind his back, a bunch of ‘religious’ people criticize him... slow handclap, guys!).

The visit

    I’m lost in my thoughts when the studio’s back door opens and a man walks in unsteadily and comes dangerously close to invading my personal space...

I recognize him, he’s a local painter who has something of a reputation as being ‘jinxed’ (in that he struggles to have his talent recognized).

He sits down at my right hand and looks at my drawing with haggard eyes:

 – Bah!  Your drawing’s far too fussy – too much going on! 

he throws out, before launching doggedly into his ‘critique’ which I receive in tandem with his beery fumes...both of which really suck ! I’ve now got two challenges to take on: the drawing itself and an artist!

Oh well... I get him a coffee.

 

Four pieces of cardboard

    He takes 4 pieces of cardboard from out of his pockets and puts them on the table. They’re of different sizes and all are the shape of a rectangle: 

 – This represents my life! 

He flourishes the largest piece of cardboard:

 – I want to give 60% of my life to God! 

He then points to the smaller pieces:

 – This means I need to cut back my painting time to 20%. I’m keeping 10% of my time for doing things around the home (like doing the laundry) and the other 10% is for... (I’m sorry, but I can’t remember what he said here... I know, I know, it’s pretty dumb of me, but that’s what happened).

Silence. 

I was touched by this man’s inner being. Contrary to all appearances, he too is longing for the spiritual. I see him in a different light now, and I look warmly at him...





The 5th element

    I grabbed a piece of cardboard that was bigger than any of his:

 – Look, Xyzwhg (not his real name)... let’s say this piece of cardboard is God, ok? I gather up all his little bits of life (the little pieces of cardboard) and place them on God (the large piece of cardboard)... (ok ? Do you get me?)

 – When you paint, paint for Him (like I try to do), make every painting an act of praise and a shout for joy that you can offer up to Him. And hope that the public would be touched by your paintings when they see them.

When you do your laundry, do it for Him so that when He visits you, your house smells good and your guests feel welcomed.

Your ‘whatwasitagain’, do it for Him, that way your empty ‘ dunnos ’ will instead be spaces filled with God... whatever you’ve got left, talk to Him about it...

‘Being’ is more important than ‘doing’ (because without a relationship with God, only death awaits). In short, whatever you do, let it be inspired by love!

Wow! The painter is stunned (suddenly stone cold sober!) as am I. Yikes! Did I really say all of those things?!...

Xyzwhg left the studio, diving deeply into his thoughts. I was pensive too, as I sat back down before my drawing...

 

A revelation 

I called on God to help me and He brought my drawing to life in front of me... (Luckily I hadn’t been drawing a three-headed dragon!) Just like the religious people in my picture, I’d started off by despising my neighbor... In the end, I got the better of my drawing! How? 

It was really very simple: 

I took the painter’s ‘critique’ and did every little thing he’d suggested...

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Very early in the morning
(Jasmine, my cartoon character was in a hurry for me to render her in 3D)...


In my dreams...
I walked through the slumbering village. Behind half-closed windows, I can see the sleeping inhabitants. I’m touched by this unexpected intimacy. These people are so precious to God and yet they don’t know it... like all of us (including me, sometimes) they beg for a few cents’ worth of affection each day, without realizing they’re sitting on a huge seam of unconditional love…
I cautiously wend my way through their dreams until I plunge into a forest as impenetrable as their slumbers.


The invitation 
Amidst the silence of this secret, awe-inspiring place, I come to talk with my Maker. As usual, I haven’t really thought through what would happen if He granted my requests...if I had, I’d perhaps have had second thoughts about what I asked for (especially this morning!):
- Hello God, I’ve a ticket for you to our concert tonight…will you be there ?
Silence.
(His silence means something to me...but I’m not sure what exactly.)


That evening 


The concert
From the vantage point of the stage, the view over the lakeshore is lovely. My wife gets the audience singing and we’re off! Barely two songs in and the incredible happens. Without warning, a massive lightning strike hits, like a huge camera flashbulb going off, everyone’s shadow is plastered against the ground as a result. Its sudden appearance lights up every cloud with such intensity that we are suddenly all very much aware of the enormous expanse of sky around us (this sky, which is normally so understated). For miles and miles in all directions, everything alive is very much awake now. 


The downpour
Torrential rain, almost as dense as the lake itself, tore down on the audience. Unthinking panic took hold and the crowd rushed into the two or three refreshment tents that had been set up. Stuffed to the gills, these cramped premises saw personal spaces invaded in less than a minute in a way that normally is reserved for very close friendships built up over the course of years.

The show must go on
The surprise guest!
I may have been a musician on the covered stage (thank goodness there was a roof to shelter under!), but I had no less a feeling of being a mere spectator. That’s when I recognized him…
Silence.
The natural world unleashed, this electric atmosphere, this strength…He’s here! He who I invited this morning…has come! The Ancient of Days, the maker of the universe, the Creator Himself is at my concert!!! My awareness of my lack of musical talent only makes this visit even more of an honour! 


Like a child playing with their father
I reply to His lightning with a guitar riff which rips through the sky. At this moment in time, I play for Him and Him alone, with all my heart. I leap for joy with all my might (in time to the music too!). The thunder that shakes the ground at the end of the song is the best round of applause I’ve ever received.
A strong wind, mixed in with cool raindrops, caresses my face and my clothes billow and flap in the wind.
Away in the distance, a hundred balloons rise into the air in one go, creating a magical spectacle in one small part of the sky. Only those on the stage witnessed this last act in a show that was worthy of any fairy tale (ok, ok, the balloon salesman was there as well).

In the middle of the town square, abandoned by all the ‘sensible’ people, in the driving rain, a woman in a wheelchair was clapping her hands in time with our songs. She was really living life to the full, much more so than all the rest.
Her joy was so palpable that I could see her soul through her smile.
There were also two young girls dancing and laughing, absolutely soaked to the skin.


Crash landing 
A shower of sparks flew out from the second guitar’s wet amp before giving up the ghost. The sound guy in the tent opposite the stage would normally never give up but he threw his hands up into the air, signalling he was doing just that.
– We heard him say: There’s nothing I can do !! There’s nothing I can do !!
His voice was drowned out by the music (I didn’t want to stop !). By some miracle of technology, sparks continued to fly out of the speakers.


See you !
I left an astonished crowd behind me. A strange kind of whirlwind passed through them, but I know that they won’t have been aware of the real significance behind it… As I left the stage, I nodded to my God, off in the distance. He saw my wink and understood what I meant by it:
– See you tomorrow in the forest!"
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