Try to Remember Some Details

by Yehuda Amichai

try to remember some details. remember the clothing
of the one you love
so that on the day of loss you’ll be able to say: last seen
wearing such-and-such, brown jacket, white hat.
try to remember some details. for they have no face
and their soul is hidden and their crying
is the same as their laughter,
and their silence and their shouting rise to one height
and their body temperature is between 98 and 104 degrees
and they have no life outside this narrow space
and they have no graven image, no likeness, no memory
and they have paper cups on the day of their rejoicing
and paper cups that are used once only.

try to remember some details. for the world
is filled with people who were torn from their sleep
with no one to mend the tear,
and unlike wild beasts they live
each in his lonely hiding place and they die
together on battlefields
and in hospitals.
and the earth will swallow all of them,
good and evil together, like the followers of korah,
all of them in their rebellion against death,
their mouths open till the last moment,
praising and cursing in a single
howl. try, try
to remember some details.

(poem discovered via invisible stories)

Wow

It never ceases to amaze me that my experiences here can be so different from my fellow YAGM--even from those also serving in Mexico. I wish I were doing a better job of following other people's blogs, but time is limited, and I frequently feel frustrated when I spend all afternoon on my computer instead of spending time enjoying Mexico.
I am also consistently impressed by Anneli's writing, the complete clarity of thought she shares on her blog. I especially want to direct your attention to this stunning post, in which she writes, "How grateful I am to have shoes that fit, shoes that don't cause me pain, shoes at all. The man at the busy intersection I pass every day has shoes too. I haven't asked him if they fit or not. Perhaps I should." [read more]

Advent

Last week at work, I learned to make buñuelos. Unfortunately, I can't prove it--it happened on the one day of the week I didn't carry my camera with me!

 

image via google image search

If you're not familiar with buñuelos, the best way I have of describing them is as Mexico's response to the elephant ear. They're much thinner, though, and crispy. They're topped exclusively with sugar and ground cinnamon. One of the women who was helping to teach me told me that she only makes them for the Christmas season.
I remember growing up my pastor parents tried to impress upon us the meaning of advent. I spent most of the season worrying about what gifts I was going to get. Perhaps it's the fact that gift-giving isn't so essential to the Christmas tradition in Mexico as it is in the states. Perhaps it's my personal commitment to live simply this year, and my attempt to resist the urge to get a bunch of new toys. Perhaps it's the fact that the weather in Cuernavaca still isn't cold enough for football season to be over, let alone nearing Christmas. But somehow, I find myself patiently waiting for Christmas to start. I enjoyed saying the rosary for the Virgin with my neighbors last week. I'm excited about the posadas that will start next week. I'm stuffing myself with buñuelos.

Newsletter

My November newsletter can now be downloaded here.

The Guest House

by Jelaluddin Rumi
translation by Coleman Barks

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

I want to say thanks to Gita for e-mailing me this poem! It's been one of the texts I go to lately when I feel stressed out or tired.