Leonor: the life of a warrior

Size: 80x130cm; 32x51in

Master weaver: Celestino Bautista Lazo

Materials and methods: criollo sheep wool hand dyed with natural dyes: Beè (Dactylopius coccus Costa, cochineal), Xiuhquilitl (indigofera suffroticosa), Pomegranate (ochhre), Cempasuchitl (yellow) and natural black wool. Handwoven on a Zapotec style loom of the 16th century adapted from European styles. Woven using a 7 threads per inch reed and wool rayon blend for warp. 

Design, patterns and symbols.

I have written in previous rug posts about the phylosophy of the path of the warrior, embrace death as part of daily life and instead of fearing the momment, inviting the spirit of death as a councelor for daily living and acknowledging that death is always behind us, we are also the ones being hunted. When one is grounded in the cycles of the earth and the sky instead of fear we can feel empowerment and in the face of death we can stop our internal dialogue to focus more on the present and bring the best of ourselves. My brother Celestino wove this rug with the yearns that my mother and I dyed together, my mom Leonor, did not read the books of Carlos Casnaneda, nor studied Toltecayotl however,  she truly lived and embraced the path of the warrior in her life. When they grew up, it was still common to have calorie deficiency due to low harvest season and in spite of being butchers some times in her family they would make ends meet with the little money they made and buy low quality corn to make tortillas. My auntie has shared stories that my grand father's uncle on my dad's side would even gift them corn that was not suitable for the market because he wanted to support them, little did they know that my dad would end up marrying someone from that family. Having grown up with little resources made everyone resource savvy and hardworking. My great grand mother from my mom's side of the family was a great wool spinner and weaver, she taught my mom everything about weaving and one day my mom also taught us how to wash wool in the river, spin it, dye it and weave the yarns into intricate patterns. My brother Celestino picked it up quickly while I struggled the most, I remember crying and being frustrated when I wove my first intricate rug, I even got the scissors and cut the warp ready to give up and weave something easier. But my mom kindly, strongly and lovingly made me re-tie the warp threads and encouraged me to keep on weaving.  

Weaving intricate patterns does require discipline of the mind, the heart and the spirit. Our bodies ache from weaving the repetitive passes of thread, the mind wants to wander and loose count, the heart can become heavy when facing a challenging pattern but it is in the act of weaving with intent and purpose that one builds the inner strength necessary for the spirit to flourish and root. 

My parents built our family business by working hard and late into the night. They would dye mountains of wool to be woven into rugs and coordinated many weavers to supply the growing demand for Zapotec rugs in the USA. Then they would clean them, make fringes and pack them to be shipped. They got their exporting license and learn how to navigate the red tape with only a few years of elementary school in their education. They made sure that my brother and I did not lack food or education ever, they were devoted pareents to their kids. 

There was a time when their marriage relatiohsip sufferend and rathern than backing down, my mother stood up for herself and we got her back, our family remained strong and united and we learnt about the type of commitment that is needed to keep families together. My mom was a short person but she was so strong in all the ways, when she first went to the USA to visit my dad who lived there for a year, she flew to Kansas with a family friend and from there on she flew to Iowa on her own without speaking more than a few words of english. When we went on a trip to Benito Juárez, she was the first of the ladies to jump on the zipline, when one of the buss would get loose in our patio she would grab a stick and shush them back into their pen and call for help to tie them to their post once again. A few times she butchered a whole bull late into the night because they died of bloating and we needed to save the meet and put it in the freezer. 

There was almost nothing that needed to be done that my mom would back off from doing. During the early days of doing airbnb we only had a shittly washing machine that could not handle the heavy blankets so we would wash them by hand and many times when we were not around my mom would take the blankets one by one up on a lattter into the roof top to dry them quickly up there. My mom was a multi tasker and knew how to get things done; she would be cooking and dyeing at the same time to maximize the wood and fuel efficiency. Many times she taught a mole cooking class and a weaving class at the same time while doing many other things. Now that she is not here we realize how much she was doing and how strong she was. When my dad decided to speak up and put a formal complaint with the environment agency because of poor managament of our community landfill (it was just a hole in the ground where trash was burnt and soil put over it) my mom back him up and gave him support and encouramente, knowing that it was an unpopular move but it is something that needed to be done about it.

My mom taught us how to live life fully and to make the most of it, she always had a smile and a kind attitude to family members and strangers alike. She had a small shoe and craft stand at our local market, she made many friends there and trusted many people by giving them credit when they could not pay for new shoes. If she did not get paid, she would always find a way to make peace and trade with crafts they had made or other supplies such as eggs or tortillas.

My mom was small physically but trully a giant in spirit, I think many relatives, friends and visitors saw that in her and she would live like that without even realizing it, she did not need self help books, retreats or sacred medicines to reach those states. Somehow she just let herself be guided by spirit and when ilness finally came to greet her, she embreaced it with love and courage. I cannot imagine all the pain she went through when she had her intestines blocked twice, and when she heard from the doctor that another surgery will only cause further complications and will lead to innevitable intestine adhessions that would endanger her life. We cried together and then we danced as if she would go on to live forever. When I was away for a teaching trip to the buckeye gathering she was just holding for life and waiting for her son to return because she wanted me to be by her side. Whe whe started to get really ill and it was time to take her to the hospital, she was vominting and supporting herself by holding into an ahs tree that we have in the middle of the patio, the cosmic tree of life was calling her back. No one said it, but we knew her time was coming, my aunties started to have dreams of our ancestors, and my mom knew it, she showed us how to embrace life and death without fear. She did not survive the last surgery and went back to the tree of life hold both my bother's hand and mine. Leonor Lazo González embraced the path of the warrior and before taking her last breath she let one more drop of tear for us, we knew that she could hear us. In a few days we have the anniversary of her passing and my brother has dedicated this rug to her honour. The sale of this rug will support us for the planting season of the corn and for the small family ritual that we will put together for her.