eclecticbooktalk

To grieve is an honor

I understand that the skin is a permeable membrane, and the solubility of pain correlates directly with the immensity of love,

Like swallowing lead and absorbing it and your body multiplying it, creating more.

The reactivity restraining your lungs, and after how long the body tried to save, the betraying, sudden, inner decay,

To grieve is an honor, the ultimate and final, ongoing act of love towards a person. The pain is merely a nuisance, a collateral feeling, the side effect of love.

Spiritual meaning of Blue Jays – Protection, resilience

Blue Jay Artwork by Krista Eaton

When Death Takes Something From You Give It Back [Cuando La Muerte Te Quita Algo Devuélvelo] by Naja Marie Aidt

“But poems also say something about giving back what the dead gave us when they were alive. That the dead’s being, in a way, still needs a place in life, and we should pass on the love they gave us.

Here lies the hope. A hope that what you gave me will grow in others, if I am able to share it. And that my love is strengthened and made more beautiful because now it contains your love…

As if giving goes back and forth all the time. From the living to the living. From the dead to the living. And from the living to the dead. A circular movement, not linear.”

[Spanish translation]

“Pero los poemas también dicen algo acerca de devolver lo que los muertos nos dieron cuando estaban vivos. Que el ser de la persona que murió, de alguna manera, aún necesita un lugar en la vida, y deberíamos transmitir el amor que nos dieron.

Aquí yace la esperanza. Una esperanza de que lo que me diste crecerá en otros, si soy capaz de compartirlo. Y que mi amor está fortalecido y ha sido embellecido porque ahora contiene tu amor.

Como si el acto de dar fuera de ida y vuelta todo el tiempo. De los vivos hacia los vivos. De los muertos hacia los vivos. Y de los vivos hacia los muertos. Un movimiento circular, no lineal.”

[ENG] This is the translation of a paragraph from the book When Death Takes Something From You Give It Back by Naja Marie Aidt, it is one of my favorite poetry books and so far I haven’t been able to find a Spanish translation. The book deals with grief from a mother’s perspective, it is heart-wrenching, tragic, and at the same time so, so beautiful.

For many literary translations you have to take difficult decisions, about whether to commit to a literal translation of the phrase and hope it transmits the real meaning, as when you read it in its original language or, add one or two words that you know help better describe and project what the writer intended. What I would say is to do your research and trust your gut, all in the name of poetry, literature, and art.

[SPA] Esta es la traducción de un párrafo del libro ‘Cuando La Muerte Te Quita Algo Devuélvelo’ [When Death Takes Something From You Give It Back] de Naja Marie Aidt. Es uno de mis libros de poesía favoritos y hasta el momento no he podido encontrar una versión traducida al español. El libro aborda el duelo desde la perspectiva de una madre, es desgarrador, trágico y, al mismo tiempo muy, muy hermoso.

Para muchas traducciones literarias, es necesario tomar decisiones difíciles, como decidir si optar por la traducción literal de una frase y confiar en que transmita el mismo significado, como cuando la lees en su idioma original o, agregar una o dos palabras que sabes que ayudarán a describir y proyectar mejor lo que el escritor quería. Lo que yo diría es que investigues y confíes en tu insinto, todo en nombre de la poesía, la literatura y el arte.

Buy When Death Takes Something From You Give It Back by Naja Marie Aidt here

Christmas Ghosts

The Christmas tree and all the ghosts that gather around it. The past we lost, the past we suffered, the present we don’t want to face and the future we’re not sure we want,

You could try to guess but you wouldn’t ever know the half of it, though still I stand, silent and unforgiving, homesickness feeding off of the twinkling lights,

My thumping heart, beating relentlessly on, I close my eyes and I see you, I feel you, I miss you

I can only bring you flowers

Underneath these clouds, the roses must be soaking wet. They were fine and lively, when I put them beside your name,

And the idea of cemeteries, how impersonal a place, after you lived your whole life at home,

But I understand why we adorn, and why all the flowers, as if to say ‘I know that you left me but I am not leaving you’,

I stand here staring empty at a silent tomb, trying to hold my heart in place, heavy and heaving with confusion,

And the only thing I can think of is how I used to bring you cake, and now I can only bring you flowers to your grave.

The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran – 10 Spiritual Quotes

This book is a spiritual journey that explores conditions of the human soul and mind. It shares wisdom on topics such as purpose, joy, freedom, passion, sorrow and love. I have deep love and admiration for Kahlil Gibran’s writing and I would recommend this book to anyone and everyone. It is perfect if you are looking to nurture your mind and clear your spirit.

Here are some thought-provoking quotes and my personal take on them:

“The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.”

Our capacity for experiencing joy and happiness is intricately linked to our encounters with sorrow and pain. Both sides of the scale are beneficial for personal growth, transformation and understanding. Navigating through moments of sadness, loss and hardship enhances our emotional depth and capacity to contain and appreciate moments of joy.

“It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding… for to withhold is to perish.”

Taking the initiative to help without waiting for a direct request means you have empathy towards the needs and feelings of others, means you don’t need an external force to convince you to be of service or offer help when you see someone else struggling. The act of giving when unasked is motivated by another person’s needs and the willingness to provide support and kindness. Also, the warning of “to withhold is to perish” suggests that refusing to give, especially when you have the means and understanding to do so, can lead to a sense of spiritual or moral deterioration, or a loss of the opportunity for personal growth and connection with others.

“And when one of you falls down he falls for those behind him, a caution against the stumbling stone.”

“And still more often the condemned is the burden bearer for the guiltless and unblamed.”

The falling on the stumbling stone symbolizes the mistakes that people can make, and warns us not to judge people for their actions for we are blessed not to be in their shoes. When the water isn’t clear we should refrain from pointing fingers since we are most likely ignorant to the truth or the experience.

“Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape. These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.”

It will not always be sunny in your interior and it is not reasonable to expect that it is, the darkness in you does not discredit the light, nor should it be avoided, for in naming and recognizing the monster you take away its power. Light and dark need to coexist or else we would never know our own depth, we would never acknowledge our needs and we could never be grateful for the good we have inside.

“And could you keep your heart in wonder at the daily miracles of your life, your pain would not seem less wondrous than your joy; and you would accept the seasons of your heart, even as you have always accepted the seasons that pass over your fields. And you would watch with serenity through the winters of your grief.”

Reminds us to be kind with ourselves and to allow our mind, body and soul to feel deeply what we are going through, to not try to avoid the suffering and misfortune as we might only prolong it. We need to respect ourselves enough not to undermine our own experiences, and to be thankful we get to feel and understand such complex emotions, that we are capable and lucky to do so.

“For what is evil but good tortured by its own hunger and thirst.”

When you realize all the villain wanted was to be understood and to stop swallowing their pain and shame. Let yourself find a safe space where you can feel and work through the difficult emotions, so that they don’t become all that you are.

“You are good when you walk to your goal firmly and with bold steps. Yet you are not evil when you go thither limping. Even those who limp go not backward. You are good in countless ways, and you are not evil when you are not good.”

It conveys a message of acceptance and understanding regarding one’s actions and life’s journey. It suggests that being “good” is not solely determined by the outcome or the perfection of one’s actions, but rather by the intent, effort, and resilience put into them.

You are not inherently “evil” for experiencing obstacles or moments of weakness. Your worth is not defined solely by your successes or failures; it’s a holistic assessment of your efforts, intentions, and actions.

“Your daily life is your temple and your religion. Whenever you enter into it take with you your all.”

Reminds us to transform our everyday existence into a source of spiritual and personal growth and understanding. To think and act with intention and mindfulness. To live in the moment and experience each day like the blessing that it is. To hold everything as it is and to let it flow.

“You are also as strong as your strongest link. To measure you by your smallest deed is to reckon the power of the ocean by the frailty of its foam. To judge you by your failures is to cast blame upon the seasons for their inconstancy.”

It validates the idea that an individual’s strength and worth should not be solely determined by their smallest actions or their failures in life. It emphasizes the importance of considering the entirety of a person’s actions and qualities, recognizing that everyone has strengths and weaknesses, and acknowledging that failure and making mistakes is a natural part of the human existence.

Overall this book inspires a deeper appreciation for a more empathetic and holistic outlook on the human experience. It delves into the intricacies and enigmas of life, embracing both its highs and lows, shedding light on the revered and the concealed aspects of existence. It shares invaluable wisdom on embracing our own experience, seeking understanding, and cultivating gratitude in our journey.

Buy The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran on Amazon

Floating girl, drowning girl

It didn’t matter how much we tried to bring her back

she didn’t exist, she never could

and all your failed attempts at a happy life

mark a timeline on her body in the shape of ghastly scars

There was always something dark deep within her

and she carried it like a cross, everywhere she went

thought one day she could get rid of it, forget that it was there

but it was her only true companion, loyal as she ever tried to be

For years now she could recognize it in her eyes

the mirror, stricken with horror, appalled

her hands, wanting to choke it out, spit it out

but it was as much a part of her as her own faulty heart

And, for what it’s worth

she did poison herself with regret all her life

for not being what you wanted, what you believed she could be

all the expectations that were born with love turned to shame

In drowning the monster she drowned herself

she always knew it was the only way

and, if I were you, I’d look away

no stone light enough to keep her from drowning

no man strong enough to keep her from dying

You’ll never again have to deal with her sporadic self-destruction

the dreadful, mercurial moods, and all the lies she told you

to keep you safe, to keep you out

So, as a final wish

let her grow weeds across her body, let them sprout in her mouth

the only thing she ever did know how to nurture was decay

and her eyes, now bloodshot and frozen

will never have to see yours cry, every day

And she will sink

as all dying things do

soundless and seemingly sleeping

to the bottom of the creek, her new home

it had been calling her for ages

’till she finally and peacefully, let go

If you insist, you can remember her as you wish

would repent for three more lifetimes before asking you for more

she knew well how you tried to give her everything

and how broken she left you in return

Don’t worry about wrapping her in precious clothes

she never considered herself as saintly, nor as whole

and she always could perceive how demonic

and ungodly she must have looked like in your eyes

Even then, she felt how much you tried to love her

and your abundant prayers that never did reach her

since not even the forgiving gods could have fixed her

And how lovely, the moss that carried her

How sweet the kelp stuck on her ribs

Funny, colorful fish, picking at her skin,

She is nothing but poison and they’ll only get sick

Don’t keep her in your memories

Don’t put flowers on her grave

Such beautiful colors don’t deserve

to wither in her name

Death chant, death dance

Hey piano player

Won’t you wrap me in your notes?

This is the death chant

The death dance

Lovely as all I’ve ever known

Hey blues singer

Won’t you carry me home?

Beaten and bound

To love something that can’t love

I see through you

My little rockstar

Moving idly

On your big old stage

No one but I

Will remember your name

I don’t know if it’s you

Or the angels I hear

I never thought a soul like mine

Could deserve a sight like yours

The Grieving House

From an outsiders perspective it might seem like it was left in ruins, with the grey walls and the windowless hall. But they would not know of the magic that surrounds it, all the tales of a feathery future too far gone for us to hold on to.

They would not know of all the love that was poured into its foundations, of the plans and the life we were going to build there. They would not understand the absolute act of kindness and kinship those walls witnessed. They would not know how much we tried to keep everything alive. To keep you alive.

Some days I feel your absence is bigger than I am. The sadness won’t let me make plans thinking I’m betraying you. You underestimated how much I would miss you, but I think you knew.

What I think you didn’t know was how much of an impostor I felt, and how the guilt of being undeserving ate me alive each day, each day I didn’t think I was worthy of all the love, all the sacrifice.

The people around don’t understand the all-encompassing agony and uselessness I feel every time I grasp everything that we lost, everything that will not be how we planned it, everything you worked so hard for and now won’t get to enjoy. This unfair reality has me thinking of ways I could give up my life too.

It seems the work of a spiteful greek god, to let someone who brought so much good to this world, go through such unspeakably shattering pain. I will never forgive nor forget the pain.

But through it all, I thank you for the smile you gave me every day. I know how much it hurt to say I love you, with the compromised air in your suffocated lungs, because despite our hope, we knew it was only another word for: goodbye, I have loved you, understand that, everything I did was out of love.

In Kahlil Gibran’s book, The Prophet, he speaks of gratitude and generosity in the most beautiful way, he says: “And you receivers – and you are all receivers – assume no weight of gratitude… Rather rise together with the giver on his gifts as on wings; For to be over mindful of your debt, is to doubt his generosity, who has the freehearted earth for mother, and god for father.”

How many of us would ring to heaven every day to apologize? I would tell you how much I wish I could’ve read those lines before you died. Deep down I know I was never deserving of this kind of love, but I am eternally grateful that you thought I was. That you always saw me as all the bright things a daughter could be.

The vultures that came when you were dying haven’t left, feels like they’ve cut the cords in my throat. I wish they’d take out my eyes so I couldn’t see what they have done with your memory. All the pain they impose in your name, how they feed their fat ego until they are puking out rotten privilege, leaving the honest-hearted to starve.

But the house you built isn’t in ruins, the only ruin inside of it is my heart. Despite my bereavement I give my word to the stars, that everything will be exactly as you pictured it. With all the love, and all the warmth.

I still thank you every day for deeming me worthy of such generous love. I look forward to the days when I can remember you calm, when I can look back or find inside of me your abundantly loving heart. I promise to be happy even though now I only have the clouds in the sky. Keep moving forward, think big, as you always said, will forever be stuck in my heart.

I Chose to Write

The morbid daydream starts like this. I enter the house through the big cedar doors, feel the warmth coming from the inside as the windows let the sun in. I would walk through every room, looking up at the sky through the skylight on the hall, slide my hand through every giant wall. I turn left and I can picture what the kitchen would’ve looked like on a Sunday morning, I can hear the laughter, I can smell the pancakes. There you are, all of you, I picture you happy, I picture you calm.

It would all seem perfect, but the delusion wouldn’t last very long, I would be back to the windowless home, all alone. Without the possibility to ever turn back time, to all the promises and all the plans. I would feel the knives in my gut as I look at the space you designed for me with such care, such love, how now is so empty, how I regret that I’ll never be able to make it seem whole.

I would crawl to the bathroom, bend my head to the floor, ask for your forgiveness and thank you for all the love. I will always thank you for all the love. Now looking back everything seems so ethereal. It was too good to last or too good for us to make it work. I know I might not be worthy of going to heaven, but without you here I don’t have a home, I am made to feel so low. You would never need to worry about me anymore, you would never get to know.

The sharpness of the venerated object, how everything turns beatific when you need it that much. The only thing more precious to me than my own veins, my own life. I know every petal in me would gladly pour out of my skin, painting everything with color, bringing it to life.

Every room would fill to the brims. For an instance it would all exist, I’d be able to grasp it all. The creaky wooden floors, the fire warming up every room. The beautiful view of the city through the trees. A family all gathered in. The full bar and the books, the fish swimming happily in their pond.

As the last petal drained from my body, I would no longer be in the cold empty floor, I would be in my bed, cozily falling asleep. No regrets, because this is the only way I could’ve brought everything back to life. The only way I could’ve felt it.

I’d be sure to wake up in the next life, the one where we get to do everything right, the one where you don’t suffer, the one where I don’t ever lose you. We’ll get to do everything right, no worries, this was only a draft, a poorly executed sketch, we’ll do better next time. The light in my eyes losing focus, going down, but I can already hear the birds chirping on the other side, everything is blurry, but it’s fine.

A Daughter’s Grief

I can picture you now, flying busy with your various angel activities, I hope that whenever you look down you don’t remember the pain

I never could believe in heaven until you died, now I’m convinced there must be a place where all the good souls go to rest. I see you in the clouds, in every beautiful sunset, in the birdsong through the woods, every good deed on earth has your name on it, and I can only hope to be as honorable, generous, loving and kind as you were, as we all remember you

I hope in some way you can’t see what’s happening down here on earth with all of us, I wouldn’t ever want you to feel disappointed, betrayed. I know how much you trusted in the good in people, and I know how much people loved to take advantage of that

I hope you got to the lake of your dreams, with your magic fishing rod, your magic cap and your magic heart, I hope you get to experience every beautiful thing you wanted to but didn’t get the time, I need to believe that you will, and that you are, still. Sometimes it doesn’t seem fair that I get to be happy, that I have plans, that I have youth, that I waste it…

I can’t escape the feeling that something has gone so irrevocably wrong. That we have all messed up, that we deserve all the guilt and to never be rid of the grief because the most special person has left us, when there was still so much love to give, so much laughter to share, so many stories that I’ll never be able to tell you about

It feels like nothing good will or should ever happen again, now that the special flame of life has gone out, I am conditioned to live in the cold, damp dark

I will always be thankful for all the days we spent together, I have enormous love and gratitude for the little things, for the times you were not alone, for all the monumentally special and uneventful moments we got to share, for every cup of tea, every slice of cake

You built me a heaven on earth, nothing will ever be able to compare with the love, the sacrifice, the compassion, and the wit that ran through your veins

Rest easy, my dad, my hero, I carry you deep within me, I am proud of you and amazed by you and will always be a student of your life