Bless Me, Ultima

by Rudolfo Anaya

“Why are they like that?” I asked Cico. We skirted Blue Lake and worked our way through the tall, golden grass to the creek. “I don’t know,” Cico answered, “except that people, grown-ups and kids, seem to want to hurt each other—and it’s worse when they’re in a group.”

If the old religion could no longer answer the questions of the children then perhaps it was time to change it. “Papá,” I asked after awhile, “why is there evil in the world?”

“You mean God doesn’t give understanding?” “Understanding comes with life,” he answered, “as a man grows he sees life and death, he is happy and sad, he works, plays, meets people—sometimes it takes a lifetime to acquire understanding, because in the end understanding simply means having a sympathy for people,” he said. “Ultima has sympathy for people, and it is so complete that with it she can touch their souls and cure them—” “That is her magic—” “Ay, and no greater magic can exist,” my father nodded.

And when we dream it is usually for a lost childhood, or trying to change someone, and that is not good. So, in the end, I accept reality—”

The rest of the summer was good for me, good in the sense that I was filled with its richness and I made strength from everything that had happened to me, so that in the end even the final tragedy could not defeat me. And that is what Ultima tried to teach me, that the tragic consequences of life can be overcome by the magical strength that resides in the human heart.