CUBA IS THE FUTURE FOR LATIN AMERICA AND PERHAPS THE WORLD On my way out of Cuba, from La Habana, on COPA airlines flight to Panama, I w...
mardi 28 mai 2013
Day of the Dead, Ancestors Day or in the USA, Memorial Day
DIA DE LOS MEURTOS DAY OF THE DAY TOMB SWEEPING DAY
ANCESTORS DAY AND IN THE USA IT IS MEMORIAL DAY
A message arrived from Irkutsk this morning from a Boryat tribal member. I am going to Siberia of USA, I answered, and explained that today is a holiday honouring ancestors in the USA.
Remember that line, No puedo vivir sin amor.. A drunk Albert Finney in that film, Under the Volcano... on the day of the dead in Mexico.
We remember our ancestors but it is also a time to renew.
Let us forget with generosity those who cannot love us. Let them go into the mist of their dreams, as we extricate ourselves from the mist of memories.
it is a day to say goodbye to young women with larger than life dreams whose paths take a different direction.. in Teheran or in Beijing or in Saigon..
just in the space of one month, I have realized the strength of true friendships.. the kind that leaves a vacuum in the hearts during its absence...in Malaysia.. in the desperate parts of the Indian country..
and in my beloved little Island..
I have never seen people so happy ..
The flight delayed on this Day of the Dead for two hours, because of a storm, then at the mile high city, an aging propeller plane reminiscent of the cadavers in the cemeteries took me silently away to a mountainous land stolen from the Indians..
to those who leave us, we light the path to the cemetery of their kisses.
We must wish no one any harm, especially on this day of the dead.. but metaphorically they too join the kisses now interred in that cemetery, where the tombs are gently cleaned by slender hands of so many asians..
A new day begins in this Siberia of North America.. I am promised home cooked meals for the next week .. and a friend is waiting in a far away city with elegant boulevards and exquisite red wine...and the music that one can transport one's soul at three am...
it would be nice to dance again, three am as the southern breeze touches your skin, along the port of inconsolable memories.. where the blind writer could recite from memory the flavours of his youth..
it is time to say Good Bye to those who find it too difficult to love us..
May be the Americans have the right idea, it is not a day to mourn or remember, but get yourself a nice comfortable place, raise your glasses and enjoy the shows in the skies..