New Rituals for New Griefs
I’m one of those negligent bloggers who rarely pays attention to analytics, but for the last year or so, the top post here, overwhelmingly, has been 10 Poems for Loss, Grief, Consolation. And since Covid-19, even more so. We have so many new griefs now, so many permutations and adumbrations of grief. And because of the way things are, and how limited we are in our gatherings, we’ve had to develop and discover new rituals. How do we console our friends from afar? How do we process these new kinds of griefs?
There are a lot of people more qualified than I am to speak about grief at this time.
And maybe this is not a thing for everyone, but I’ve been having fun planning my own funeral/wake/memorial — I think I want a better name for it. But after I’m gone, I’d love it if you read some poems, had a good glass of whiskey, (unless you hate whiskey), listened to some good music, looked at some great art, released some butterflies (probably metaphorically), and wore your favourite dress-up clothes, in my honour. It doesn’t matter what, but I’m partial to fancy shoes and velvety garments. Jewel tones, and plenty of black. Your most empowering lipstick. Make yourself your favourite sandwich, a clubhouse maybe. Grab some Miss Vickie’s chips. (Or Cheetos if you prefer).
I would like some good jokes, some funny skits played. Whatever makes you laugh is great. Because laughter really is vital.
Could you listen to some music from The Rolling Stones for me? Beggar’s Banquet, Emotional Rescue.
I dig Mick Jagger’s tribute to Brian Jones where he reads excerpts from Shelley’s Adonais.
Stanza 29 Peace, peace! he is not dead, he doth not sleep
He hath awakened from the dream of life
'Tis we, who lost in stormy visions, keep
With phantoms an unprofitable strife,
And in mad trance, strike with our spirit's knife
Invulnerable nothings. - We decay
Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief
Convulse us and consume us day by day,
And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.
{For just the poem with captions, see here}
Heavy on the Joni Mitchell please. I love Blue. I love Cary. I love Both Sides Now.
A little Van Morrison. Sweet Thing. Moondance.
Mainly play Springsteen. I love Racing in the Street, this video so much.
Play some Jason Isbell. Be Afraid. And read out the line from Georgia O’Keeffe, who said: “I've been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I've never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.”
Sheryl Crow’s Soak Up the Sun. Because, at my memorial I want y’all to lighten up. And remember it ain’t having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.
Leonard Cohen’s Anthem. Thanks for the Dance. Famous Blue Raincoat. Bird on a Wire.
You could watch some movies I love. Rear Window, Nathalie Granger, To Catch a Thief.
I’d be happy if you read some Woolf, Austen, Lispector, in my memory.
The readings from my favourite works can be done in your own solitude, but maybe a few out loud, please.
Try To Praise the Mutilated World
Adam Zagajewski
Try to praise the mutilated world.
Remember June’s long days,
and wild strawberries, drops of wine, the dew.
The nettles that methodically overgrow
the abandoned homesteads of exiles.
You must praise the mutilated world.
You watched the stylish yachts and ships;
one of them had a long trip ahead of it,
while salty oblivion awaited others.
You’ve seen the refugees heading nowhere,
you’ve heard the executioners sing joyfully.
You should praise the mutilated world.
Remember the moments when we were together
in a white room and the curtain fluttered.
Return in thought to the concert where music flared.
You gathered acorns in the park in autumn
and leaves eddied over the earth’s scars.
Praise the mutilated world
and the gray feather a thrush lost,
and the gentle light that strays and vanishes
and returns.
These lines:
I wish I could show you
when you are lonely
or in darkness
the astonishing light
of your own being.
— Hafiz
There is a Light in Me
by Anna Swir
Whether in daytime or in nighttime
I always carry inside
a light.
In the middle of noise and turmoil
I carry silence.
Always
I carry light and silence.
Someone told me
of course my poems
won’t change the world.
I say yes of course
my poems
won’t change the world.
— Patrizia Cavalli
Some words I’d like to leave you with:
“I had been thinking about the power of art to transform the frustrations and irritations of daily life into a realm of grace and to embody, through arrangement, composition, light, colour and shade, nothing less than the secret elixir of life itself.” – Anne Bogart
“It’s with such intense joy. It’s such an hallelujah. “Hallelujah,” I shout, an hallelujah that fuses with the darkest human howl of the pain of separation but is a shout of diabolical happiness. Because nobody holds me back anymore.” – Clarice Lispector, from The Stream of Life
“Isn’t there some statement you’d like to make? Anything noted while alive? Anything felt, seen, heard, done? You are here. You’re having your turn. Isn’t there something you know and nobody else does?” — Elizabeth Smart from The Assumption of the Rogues and Rascals
And of course,
you are required to make something beautiful.
I suppose the real point here, is to think about how you’d want your life to be celebrated. For me, it’s with poetry, songs, art, and a few good laughs. You know, raise a glass, and say the words Cary Grant often used to close out a letter:
August 3, 2020
