Save Our Souls
Dedicated to my teacher Moises Kijak
Genesis 4:9: “Then the Lord said to Cain, ‘Where is your brother Abel?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’”
I was staring at the screen on the seat in front of me on the plane, by the window. I pressed the button to view the map and see where we were. It was daytime, and I had taken off from Mexico City about fifteen minutes ago. Since I was by the window, I thought to look outside directly instead of at the map. I never imagined I’d see what I saw. Between mountains, a winding river cut through the continuity—or rather, perpetuated it: between two towns, I spotted a reflection. I thought it was due to the time of day; it was noon, and the sun was directly overhead. Then I saw that the reflections had a pattern. I thought of Morse code, which I didn’t know. I paid closer attention and saw a smoke signal with a pattern that could only have been created with intention. There was a message I could see, even if I couldn’t see the person. I recognized the pattern. Finally, I saw the three letters spelled out with stacked rocks: Save Our Souls (S.O.S). I immediately pressed the button to call the flight attendant and took a picture. When she arrived, I asked her to notify the pilot to save the coordinates from the last ten minutes and inform ground control.
I thought about how far communication and awareness had evolved. How many people on window seats in the sky during the day were looking out for a sign on the ground instead of watching movies on seat screens, phones, and devices? How many preferred to close their windows? How many people pay a lot of money to dine in restaurants with stunning views, yet on the plane prefer to eat watching a screen rather than looking out the window? I tried not to judge myself. I thought again about the evolution from cave paintings, Egyptian hieroglyphs, Chinese characters, Hebrew script, Morse code, smoke signals—the need to speak, to express—all tied to awareness. Communication and awareness were further and further apart, like I was from the ground in that moment. Yet, I could connect with those people. I looked out the window, and a blanket of clouds blocked the Earth from view. I imagined the person below believing it was a cloudy day and feeling prevented from signaling, from communicating their urgent need.
A few days after returning to Buenos Aires, the mail carrier knocked on my door. It was a sealed letter. An invitation to the Belgian Embassy to meet those who were rescued with my help. I replied with a handwritten note, thanking them for the invitation and saying I trusted that one day we would meet without the need for gratitude. I told them that I was a doctor, that all my work focused on understanding how attention to nature could enhance communication and nurture precisely those acts of hope—like theirs that day, with smoke signals, the light’s reflection, and letters spelled out with stones.
A few months later, I received another letter containing a sealed envelope, which I have yet to open. I believe I will meet them during the journey I am about to take to Stockholm.
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