By Sal Guarino
Growing up in Brooklyn, New York, and then spending many years of early adulthood living in the Hudson Valley of lower upstate, New York, I have always appreciated the colorful bounty of autumn foliage there. The northeastern US produces a rich yearly collage of bodacious red, crisp orange, and magical yellow, signaling the major transition from a warm and precious summer to a long and cold winter, drawing many perennial visitors to marvel at the brilliance.
Carrying an appreciation for those riveting and beautiful autumn displays, I eventually wound up in Southern California in 2009. That’s where I had my first exposure to the rich lavender wonder that is the jacaranda tree. Native to Argentina and Bolivia, it’s no wonder that they have been imported as far north as they can grow, including to parts of Florida, Texas, and California. The visual magnificence of these natural wonders is enough to mesmerize even the least observant passersby, yet the highly tumultuous personal circumstances surrounding my first sight of God’s purple handiwork made my experience even more meaningful and enduring.
While I have always been a resilient individual, navigating well my share of untimely family deaths and other psychological hurdles earlier in life, I faced my most difficult period soon after arriving in California. Recently divorced from a 17-year marriage, I moved out west for a necessary and potentially lucrative work opportunity, a positive opportunity to regroup. One year later, however, I found myself dismissed by the transitional partner whom I had latched on to. She had become somewhat of a temporary parachute that helped cushion the heart-wrenching fall of divorce and geographic separation from my teenage daughters. I also simultaneously lost the job opportunity that brought me to California in the first place.
Impossible alimony payments mounting and feeling like the front car of an out-of-control train that just crashed into a wall and was still being battered by the impact of the trailing cars behind it, I took a less than ideal digital marketing sales position in Los Angeles about 60 miles away from where I was living. Given the traffic in Southern California, I had to leave at 5:15 AM daily, a sobering fact that only compounded the morose feelings and sense of isolation that already weighed heavily upon me. I had no wife, no girlfriend, and kids who lived far away from me. The uninspiring job was in an old, stale, and dark office that still left me far below break-even financially.
After a long and tedious first morning trying to adjust myself to the colossal feelings of accumulated loss and the disappointment of starting a tedious position in a gloomy office, I welcomed a break for lunch. During the short walk to a deli, I glanced down a side-street and was instantly captivated. Awestruck, I stopped in my tracks. Glorious, vibrant purple, glistening and flourishing leaves amplified the abundant California sun. That was the first time I saw a jacaranda tree and the timing could not have been more opportune! The burdensome weight of the very real depression I had been feeling was immediately lightened by the sudden awakening of my senses to this rich and silent wonder of sheer beauty. I felt a desperately welcome spark of hope. While that jolt of emotional relief was fleeting, mostly dissipating as quickly as it appeared, the momentary surge of sensory joy had rekindled my smoldering spirit and diverted the consistently dreary and somber direction of my wounded psyche. I had come upon something pure and new to look forward to. Returning from lunch, I felt a glimmer of enthusiasm at the idea of pausing during my walk to again dip my tired eyes and fledgling spirit into my newfound potential oasis.
Thankfully, I eventually emerged from that somber period of my life and proceeded to establish some wonderful new roots and a great network of friends in Southern California over the next 13 years. Each May, when the jacarandas bloomed, I admired their majestic beauty and reflected fondly on how they helped me to begin make a life-altering U-turn. I relished intentionally taking an annual pause amid their entrancing splendor to bask in grateful recognition of how feeling happy had reclaimed its default status within me. The jacarandas became a symbolic token of hope, optimism, and exhilaration, reminding me potently that I never had to feel as spiritually stuck and emotionally flat as I once did.
When I began traveling back and forth to central Mexico in 2020, dating my eventual wife who lived here, I was ecstatic to see jacarandas that were even more colorful and regal than those of the north. They bloomed earlier in the year, so for the few years of transition to settling in San Miguel, I was blessed to experience them twice a year, a double dose of gratitude for a life being well-lived. We even had the pleasure of getting married in the city of Guanajuato in the spring of 2022 on the grounds of an ancient hacienda that was wonderfully enveloped by several blooming jacarandas. What a full-circle and ironic joy that was!
As I sit in our sala typing on a peaceful Sunday morning, a large fluorescent jacaranda looms over our backyard, winking at me through our glass doors. I’m grateful for it’s easy-to-admire current location, and for its enduring position as a buoyant reminder within my eternally grateful heart.
Have any personal reflections of your own tokens of hope or stories of resilience you would like to share? I believe a joy shared is a joy doubled, so please feel free to do so!
Sal Guarino, born in Brooklyn, NY, now settled in Centro with his Mexican wife, Sal brings a rich set of life experiences to the table. “SALudos de San Miguel!” shares his joy for living through a lens of gratitude and positivity here in SMA. Sal’s first book “SALutations!” was published in 2018. Contact: salguarino@gmail.com
