The recent obsequies ceremonies in Colombia of one of the most prominent, emblematic writer of modernity Gabriel Garcia Marquez, that have been replicated like in a mirror reflection in the contending for his memory country, I deem to have another one equal in mystery. The earthly remnants of the Nobel Laureate, his ashes, were contained in a book-size box, the ceremony flooded in the yellow fragrance of his favourirte roses, his dearest relatives solemnly mourning by, and a mass of fervent, fiery admirers who were attending, trying to express confusingly their privilege of being there, of being a contemporary of the great writer, erring shooting around, inspired public readings, high officials of the both states, claiming the right of his belonging namely there and not to the opposite country. His “One Hundred Years of Solitude” have really shattered the latino world out of its ancient lethargy, out of its apparent insignificant trivial routine, desolate emptiness and solitude shaping and giving substance to the extraordinary. A visionary, and his one a very commercialized work, his book is said to have been sold in millions of copies around the world, translated in 37 languages, one who has entered the history of universal literature since being alive competing in popularity and consequence with the titans of literature such as the Bard from Avon (his body of works, more exactly drama have been translated into 37 languages and staged around the world in the recent William Shakespeare International Festival) . The ultimate ceremony of commemoration was meant to mend some issues as his ashes had to be spread on the border between the two countries in point.
I recall to my memory another exotic funeral ceremony much stricter, limited in the number of attendants because enacted at sea. That one was dedicated to Neil Armstrong the astronaut first man on the moon, that has challenged the scientific-technical revolution, engaged in the interstellar race and wars, but on top of the most daring provocation of humanity ever, the process was in addition infused with propaganda and peppered with conspiracy theories. His farewell funeral ceremony is another token of that. I think that might have equally been his last wish to be granted such an estranged, alienated, fate to his ashes being spread in the ocean, an old veteran, but the presence of only his wife and the rest of the attendants being military men evoked the high secrecy that surrounded the event. The secret services predominated upon the civic ceremony of a mortal, normal ordinary, layman. Subsequently, only some modest articles in the press after two weeks since his death have reported and published some scarce photos from the much sought event. An event sunk into the strictest secrecy of a protocol. The last step of the GIANT into a universal immortality.
How was his silence back then on another galactic object! Technical silence. In reality we have no silence at all, and worse of all there is no solitude – there is always and everywhere the omniscient waves coat, the satellites coverage dragnet, mesh, every earthly mm can be scrutinized, scanned. How many scales does the silence have? Researchers are trying to establish distinctive degrees of the lethargic condition of the comatose. Again the polemics goes that the activity that doctors are tracking on the MRI could be side noise, technical interferences and not proper brain activity. It is difficult to prove and believe – it’s arguable.
During the Easter week it was reported that two Popes are expected to be sanctified, beatified, after a set limit of 50 years passes. We can only rejoice and this news completes and replenishes the sacred suite of celebrations. That is what is all about at the Catholic and Christian religion. The saint sacrifice, magical resurrection, the miracle of elevation to the sanctity – the spiritual purification cycle into eternity. From here the symbol of the egg – the infinite, no beginning and no end. The other one with the bunny, I agree that has less to do with the Christian faith, it has to do with pagan fecundity, fertility; such matters are not explicitly encouraged by my religion. And in my view no reformation of my church is needed. Although I also disagree with the utter populism of our present Pope, his following according to the books in re-acting some Biblical scenes – too much humbleness, they say, and he insists and rehearses that painful to watch episode; I would not like my church to be hypermodern, however, and swiftly realign and adopt any new tendency, or trend regarding morality, concerning the essence of the man and the woman and their roles and duties towards each other and towards the society, I would also like my church to ponder and reconsider its position upon sensitive subjects on the edge of matter and life, life and death, procreation and euthanasia, death… I would like it here truly to be traditional, let it be dogmatic!
Let the incense hover and cover the traditional Easter meal, mix with the lilac and daffodils perfume, let us pay a visit to our deceased ones too, at the graveyard and pay tribute to them, remember them, they live through us conjuring their names and LIVING. Luckily we need not a license to live and visa to tread the destiny’s road.
FRENCH REVIVAL STYLE.