Ok, this is when it’s already too much: you’re sitting at the kitchen table with his parents explaining where he was last night.
On Friday I sat with his friends in an empty villa at the golf course. On Saturday my friend and I went jogging at the lake, bright and dusty. We ate cheese and bread and drank wine and champagne with a best friend of hers, took a taxi downtown. I met the young man. On the following evening I went downtown to sit in the cathedral, afterwards we went to see his father, now I am chastened.
Rilke says Why do you want to shut out of your life any uneasiness, any misery, and depression. Since after all you don’t know what work these conditions are doing inside of you? Why do you want to persecute yourself with the question of where all this is coming from and where it is going? Since you know after all that you are in the midst of transitions and you wished for nothing so much as to change. If there is anything unhealthy in your reactions, just bear in mind that the sickness is the means by which an organism frees itself from what is alien…
I go to school and talk Spanish with my teachers. I stayed downtown and went to a vegetarian cafe with a set menu: today, salad leaves with amaranth and raisins, mint broth, chile rellenos con soya, sago or rice pudding. Last time a diner said ¡hola! to me, I got confused thinking she was a staff member and she got confused about why I was standing in front of her staring at her. Second time much better.
Walked through a market with narrow passageways between stalls and bins of loose dogfood alongside lentils and beans at a drygoods store. Saw people dressed in bells smoking people with incense. When I stood to go one of them asked to take a photo with me, I didn’t know why. Photographed a blue house. Bright, hot day. Cockerel crowing somewhere behind the walls of houses.
This is also Rilke from Letters to a young poet: Be patient towards all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers which cannot be given to you because you would not know how to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. And never ask how?
This is from Martha Favila’s poem Despedidos: No todo / está perdido, / ahora el rumor de la ciudad, / sus mañanas a medias / en la hora del ocio / son la pertenencia más preciada. The first line means, Not everything / is lost.
I spoke with my tranquil brother over the phone. He said the viewing of the body for family before the funeral was very sad. Our mother did a reading. My brother said he was glad to bear the coffin out; previously he had said he didn’t want to do it. In the evening, they had a barbeque which he says was a celebration. My mother’s friend writes to me that it was a beautiful funeral, that it is important to grieve.