A Heavy Time in Ubud
We are staying in a homestay in Ubud - it is a big compound where 5 families (all of them related) live along with 10 or so guest houses for rent. I love it because you get a better sense of what daily life is like from living with a family vs being sequestered in a resort.
When I left this morning all the family members were happily preparing offerings made of flowers and woven palm and doing all sorts of decorative work to the house in preparation for a big temple festival later this month. As I arrived home today a man was running from the house crying, literally tearing at his eyes. Some friends were running after him. When I entered the compound there were masses of people crying and some people trying to console a woman (I assume the mother) as she was wailing and thrashing on the tile floor. Her pain and the pain of the many family members around is absolutely crushing.
Death is so permanent no matter how much you protest. The word for 'no' must be the same in Indonesian because that is the one thing I heard the woman repeat again and again. Death is heartbreakingly permanent.
