Miami, Florida, Spanish version
Friday, October 11th, 2024
"I have a sadness as deep as the sky." Susan Sontag
In this essay, I seek to explore sadness from a perspective free of the negative connotations I have culturally absorbed throughout my life. This dense and complex feeling, which we often carry with a heavy heart, deserves a more reflective and nuanced approach.
On this Friday night, which coincides with Yom Kippur, the most sacred holiday for the Jewish people, my mind is overwhelmed by a flood of thoughts. On this night of reflection and introspection, I have chosen to confront sadness, a companion I have long avoided facing directly. She has sat, patiently, across the table, observing me with calm, while I, out of fear or habit, have ignored her. But this time, filled with an unusual courage, I turned to prayer, breathed deeply, and met her gaze. "Bonsoir Tristesse," I said softly in French, offering a timid smile.
Instead of attending the synagogue to participate in the communal prayers of repentance and forgiveness, though I followed the service online from my phone, I chose to walk the streets alone, camera in hand. I embarked on a different kind of meditation, an intimate dialogue with my surroundings: the interplay of light and shadow, scattered objects, the distant hum of passing cars. In these everyday scenes, I sought a kind of visual mirror reflecting my emotional state, an attempt to capture the essence of what sadness signifies to me today. In this process, I plead for forgiveness and understanding, not solely through words, but also through the visual documentation of an existential experience profoundly marked by this deeply human emotion.
I have attempted, unsuccessfully, to regress into my childhood in search of my earliest encounters with sadness. My memory failed me, but I imagine those moments were closely tied to unfulfilled childish desires—desires unmet by my mother, my grandparents, or even my older brother, who, in one way or another, was often somewhat cruel to me.
What I do remember with striking clarity are the personal episodes in which I began to realize that I was different from other children. I felt distanced from my brother and his friends, and I preferred the company of my cousins, neighbors, or the comforting presence of my mother. These were crucial moments, in which I found myself like the child in the first photograph I share: standing at a crossroads, caught in a whirlwind of doubts, terrified as I searched for the path I should take.
It was in those instances that I began to understand the binary nature of the world around me, a world of which I was also a part. A deep sadness enveloped me as I realized that, within this system of dualities, it was impossible to find complete happiness. This is how we are programmed: to experience sadness in the absence of happiness, even though, in reality, our emotional states continuously oscillate between extremes, caught in the duality that so profoundly defines our being.
Once again, I envision Mademoiselle Tristesse accompanying me, walking beside me without a defined destination. She has been my faithful companion throughout a journey marked by solitude, introspection, long road trips, distance from my family, and silence. Yet, I feel indebted to her, for through her constant presence, I learned to become the man I am today. And for the first time in a long while, I feel content with myself. In acknowledging this, I can almost imagine a smile on her face. She has been the path along which I have traveled to find deeper meaning in my life and my spiritual quest.
That said, after expressing my gratitude, I must admit that I never imagined living life as it has unfolded. I never thought I would find myself so politically and spiritually distanced from my closest friends, to the point of withdrawing from some of them out of respect for their positions and, of course, for the sake of my own mental peace. Nor did I imagine living in a city that, though I call it home, I no longer enjoy walking through; a city where I feel history is no longer honored, and where superficiality becomes increasingly prevalent. Furthermore, I never expected to witness the land of my birth experiencing its deepest crisis across all aspects of life. And much less did I think I would see my adopted country, the one I proudly call home, so deeply divided, where it seems impossible to defend my convictions without being misunderstood or judged.
As I walked, I recalled the times when I was immensely happy walking these same streets, which today, though more modern, feel empty to me, cloaked in a superficiality that pains and confounds me.
Thus, I wish to conclude this day of introspection and teshuvah (repentance), not only with sadness as my companion but also with hope, both as guides on my path. I hold firmly to the conviction that my name and my life, despite the doubts and shadows, will find their place, however small, within the celestial gates inscribed in the Book of Life.
Note: The first and last photos were not taken specifically to illustrate this text but were selected from my photographic archive to accompany the other images.
