In the “small hours”.

It is in the “small hours” of the night, if I’m awake, and when my emotional reserves are low and my mind wanders, that I sometimes have half real dreams or imaginings. These are sometimes quite haunting. It is during these “small hours” that I often recall the fact that there is an emptiness in the bed beside me which then opens a window into a host of memories.

It in times such as these (and not only in the “small hours”) that I  - in fact all of us - need some inspiration to lift us out of the hole we may find ourselves in and give us hope for the future. Words of inspiration shine a light in the dark corners of our mind and dissipate the shadows and fearsome shapes our imaginings have created.

I have always found solace and inspiration in poetry – not everyone shares this of course – and is a retreat, a resource I frequent. Now the poem, “Ulysses” by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, is such a one. It can be relied on to provide words of good cheer and inspiration when there is a general lack of “harmony” in my life. The words of the poem are a paean of praise to the indomitable human spirit; of the beauty of love for one’s fellow beings and the knowledge that we can always aspire to, and achieve, greater and grander things. They remind us that we humans are better than we could ever have imagined, and that we are all free to seek for, and to arrive at that moment in our lives when peace, harmony and contentment fill our hearts.

In this case the poem’s last six lines are the important ones:

                                                                        “.....; and tho’

                        We are not now that strength which in old days

                        Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;

                        One equal temper of heroic hearts,

                        Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

                        To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 “... but strong in will to seek, to strive, to find, and not to yield.” – powerful words.

The Romans called him Ulysses, but he was a Greek, called Odysseus. He was immortalised in Homer’s chronicles, the “Iliad” and the “Odyssey”, about the siege of Troy and his epic journey home to his long suffering but faithful wife, after a twenty year absence.

In the context of the poem, Ulysses/Odysseus is now an old man. But he is still fired by the thought of greater things to do and greater feats of endurance.

Ulysses/Odysseus was not only a brave and fearless fighter, but also a brilliant tactician – it was he who devised the famous Trojan Horse that was used by the Greeks to finally overcome the defenders of Troy, some thirty one centuries ago.

In many ways this poem – especially the last line, always reminds me of Magucha. All her life she strove; she sought; and (I hope) she found – but she never yielded. She never gave up. In this she was indomitable.

While never trying to make her out to be something she wasn’t – she was very much a fallible human being - there were aspects of her personality that I really admired and respected.

I loved her just as she was – deeply loved her.

A very personal view of Life

To write from the heart; to write what I really feel is sometimes difficult. It is so personal, so private that I hesitate to put “pen to paper” as the saying goes.

For instance I don’t know where I came from – I mean did I exist, somewhere, before I was born? Will I exist, somewhere, when I die? Is there a great “collective unconscious” – some inexhaustible well of “Life”, or energy, that is drawn upon with a birth and replenished with a death?

Is this what God is?

Trying to understand all this (and please don’t correct me!) I have concluded that God is not “my” God. God is not personal, has no gender and I do not think that God cares one way or another what we do or why we do what we do. We reap what we sow – that is the Law; the only Law. This Law is immutable. This Law is Universal – literally. It is the Law of God. And like any “basic” law it is very simple. This is our “lesson” to learn in life. This great “collective unconscious” grows as we grow in understanding. This is why we were born.

This brings me, by a rather circuitous route, to grief. Grief (in my experience) is the searing, tearing, hopeless dawning knowledge that what was will no longer be. It is almost – and this may seem very unfair – that the greater the love, the greater the grief. But this is the way the “Law” is expressed – what I sow I reap. And love is a necessary, a vital part of Life. All life forms need love (nurture) and express it according to their kind and is why there is “Life” (or so I believe).

Together we were strong, Magucha and I – each supported and nurtured the other and the bond was a loving bond.

This, however, is only about my feelings, my love. What about, in my case, what about my wife Magucha? What about her love for me and her children and grandchildren? At the moment of death did she grieve that she would no longer have me at her side or see her children, her "babies" again?

All I can remember is that she turned her head – slightly away from me – and then 'ceased to live'. But what did that mean? Was she turning towards something; turning towards something she saw or sensed? Or was it as I suspect, that she turned away so that I would not see her deep (if unconscious) relief that she was now released from the bonds of life and (possibly) a recognition that her love would now return to that from whence it first drew life – and therefore help replenish it. Replenish it with her knowledge, her wisdom, her emotional strength, her insight and her love that had been gained through the harsh furnace of pain and illness that she had endured and overcome.

I rebel against and cannot contemplate the concept that at the moment of death a person is “purified” and will lead an “unblemished” life in paradise. That does not fit with the Law! When we die we take with us our whole baggage train of deeds – good, bad and indifferent. It cannot be any other way – the Law states that we reap what we sow.

All this of course begs the question of whether there is “life after death” or whether “the old soul takes the road again” and is reborn. I don't know!

It comforts me, however, to believe that Magucha’s indomitable spirit has made us all stronger because it has rejoined, has replenished, the great “collective unconscious” from whence all life is derived.

Farewell my love! Fare thee well. ’Till we meet again. Saudades.

I’ve edited this post by changing the poem:-

Emily Dickinson wrote this (with her unique punctuation) –

The Heart asks Pleasure – first

And then – Excuse from Pain –

And then – those little Anodynes

That deaden suffering –

And then – to go to sleep –

And then – if it should be

The will of its Inquisitor

The privilege to die -  

Can or should grief be medicated?

It is with dismay, bewilderment and some disbelief I read that grief has now been medicalised and been classified as a “pathological” condition. Grief is the most natural emotion or feeling experienced when someone they love dies. I mean even swans grieve (or at least show signs of loss) when their mate dies and will remain near the body of their mate.

Humans have suffered grief and have mourned since they first walked the earth – some 1.5 million years ago so why is it only now in the last few years that it is considered in the same category as a “mental illness”?

Now (as “defined” by the American Psychiatric Association – APA, in their Diagnostic and Statistical Manual version 5, DSM 5) there are Major Depressive Disorders (MDD); bereavement-related major depressions (BRMD); Later Bereavement Disorders (LBD); also - possibly - an Adjustment Disorders (AD) – adjusting to the now changed circumstances. Then there is also apparently research into the validation of intense lengthy grief to determine if this is a “pathology”, (in other words a biological “illness”) - a pathology called “prolonged” or “complicated” grief (PG or CG). Validation, I understand, rests on the risk of “future harm” – thus confusing the (possible) risk of a “illness” with an actual “illness” – if you get what I mean! Or even (gasp!) that grief has been “derailed” and become “frozen” or an “interminable” grief!   

Furthermore, apparently, those who determine these things have decided that grief should only last for two weeks. Any longer and it then becomes depression. Once it becomes depression antidepressants may then prescribed.

One is left to wonder if these “experts” have ever grieved or mourned.

It has been written that: “Grief is an automatic reaction, presumably guided by brain circuitry activated in response to a world suddenly, profoundly, and irrevocably altered by a loved one's death.”

There is one HUGE assumption in that statement; the presumption that grief is the result of brain function. But is this really the case?

In my case it was my “heart” that felt the pain of loss – a gut loss - like a wrenching, a tearing of something. My reasoning – my head – tells me that my wife is dead but it is my heart that feels it, that feels the emotion of the loss. Her love; her companionship; her emotional support; her intelligence; her sense of humour are all now absent.

And I still feel the loss – eighteen months after the “event”. But do I need to be medicated; am I depressed; am I suffering from a “frozen” or “interminable” grief?

Apparently, and totally unconsciously, I have adopted an ancient method of coping – writing and reading about grief and grieving. I certainly find this helps me.

But I know that I will always miss her.

What does it all mean?

There are so many things, events, happenings that confound us all. Life itself is a mystery. And then of course, what is called the “hard problem” – consciousness itself. How can it be that we humans can be aware of our own existence? And what does it mean – to exist?

It may be said that at any one time (depending on the situation) each of us has three persona: the person we think we are; the person others think we are; and the person we really are. And they are not all the same!!

So who are we? Should we bother with worldly matters before we know who (or what) we are - what we really are – in our inner most being? What is more important? Determining who we are or what we do in the world?

Trying to understand this leads easily to the famous command, “Know Thyself”, that is carved into stone over the entrance to the Temple at Delphi in Greece – the famous “Oracle of Delphi”.

No matter what scientists claim it is my strong belief that love, wisdom, courage, friendship, intuition and the appreciation of beauty, cannot be just the result of evolutionary chance and brain chemistry alone. I mean how can a cell – even a brain cell – think? Is a cell intelligent? With the various brain imaging and scanning techniques now available it can be seen that certain areas of the brain are activated when thinking or remembering something, but it has yet to be determined HOW this occurs and whether thoughts or remembrances, by some means, activate the neurons or whether the activated neurons, somehow, create the thoughts and remembrances. These questions remain unanswered.

 

I wonder if this quote from Shakespeare’s The Tempest (Act IV, sc.1) says it all:

Prospero: …    Our revels now are ended. These our actors,

                        As I foretold you, were all spirits and

                        Are melted into air, into thin air:

                        And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,

                        The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,

                        The solemn temples, the great globe itself,

                        Yea, all which we inherit, shall dissolve

                        And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,

                        Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff

                        As dreams are made on, and our little life
                        Is rounded with a sleep….

Sixty-four.

Sixty-four.  Had she lived that’s how old Magucha would have been today - May 9.

I am not sure how others do it, but I find that coping with what Life (with a capital L) throws at me to be a continual rather ad hoc arrangement. Everyday, every moment, is different.

What I am doing is coping in my way with my grief. I know that I could wallow in a “poor me” trough – but I realize that such an attitude would not do me any good. But grief is not just “grief” – some amorphous “thing” out there somewhere. It is personal.

My way of coping is to try and “meet” my grief head on and attempt to understand the how and why. I mean the woman I loved, my wife, my best friend Magucha, is dead – has “passed away”. I can’t change that fact. I can’t deny it. To try to ignore it; to try and hide it; to try and divert my attention from this fact just doesn’t work. Not for me anyway.

But it is very hard. I look at some of the many reminders of her that are in the house we shared and I can remember the time and place, when and where the photos were taken, or the items purchased, or when the gifts were received or given; I sit down at a café and I immediately recall the table we sat at and what we ate when we were last there together.

It is of course a fact that we all suffer grief at some time in our lives. People have died of old age, illness, in battle, on expeditions and in various other tragic or violent means since humans first walked the earth – grief is always with us.

Being the person I am and as a human being, as a husband and father, I have a strong desire to know, to try and understand.  I am deeply curious but it is all made harder because I suspect that I will never understand what happens at the end. I am not alone in this and why I think that from the earliest times humans have had a belief (hope?) that there is a hereafter of some sort. But are we ever supposed to know?  

In my case my grief is compounded by the mystery of it all. I just have to accept it! But what has happened to the “person” – not the body - but the essence that was Magucha? I find it incomprehensible that her love, her intelligence, her vitality, her emotional strength and empathy have just disappeared into nothing. After all it has yet to be determined what Life actually is (that “something” that makes any living thing, “alive”) – it may be beyond our knowing.

But why is there something rather than nothing? And why us?

As always in moments of high emotion I find solace in poetry.

Shakespeare expressed this mystery in his timeless verse:

“The undiscover’d country, from whose bourn

            No traveller returns, puzzles the will.”

Rabindranath Tagore, in a more accepting mood, also wrote:

“Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come.”

And Shelley, long before Tagore, obviously had similar views when he wrote:

“Peace! Peace! He is not dead, he doth not sleep, -

He hath awakened from the dream of life;”

    Even though only 62 when she died, she lived her life to the full and Magucha, to quote Kipling:

   “Filled the unforgiving minute 

    With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run.”

She did this every day and was glad.

It comforts me to believe that Magucha no longer suffers, that she has gone before me, gone on ahead, and that some time in the future we will meet again. That love will always win in the end.

I hope. Maybe - but who knows? I still have my memories.

War is sweet to those that know it not.

I always thought that this old saying was of Roman origin but apparently it is from ancient Greece - from the Greek poet Pindar (518BC – 438BC), to be exact. I have no knowledge of the Greek language but have a fragmentary knowledge of Latin and Pindar’s original Greek is the origin of the Latin proverb "Dulce bellum inexpertis" which is translated (more or less) as, “War is sweet to those that know it not”.

The continuation of what Pindar wrote is; “but the experienced man trembles exceedingly at heart on its approach.”

I believe that this proverb is as true today as it was 2500 years ago.

In the name of God, why start a war? Why?

It is my firm belief that human ego and pride are the reasons. These two give rise to the widespread misconception of “us” and “them”. Us being always better, more intelligent and culturally advanced than them and that “our” God is better than “their” God. Therefore it matters not how we treat such inferior beings – God is on “our” side!

It takes two to tango – as the old saying goes. It stands to reason that differences of opinion will arise (humans being the fickle creatures they are) therefore it will always be necessary for there to be (to use a Churchillian phrase) more “jaw, jaw” and less “war, war”. And “jaw, jaw” is always less costly in human life and material than “war, war” – always.

The current standoff between the USA and North Korea will not end without some serious negotiations and plenty of “jaw, jaw”. A conflict is unthinkable and should not be considered. Conflicts always, repeat always, leave a host of unintended consequences to contend with afterwards. Imagine what would happen to the about 25 million North Koreans if the regime was defeated in a conflict – who would govern the country? Who would police them and restore law and order (very different from what they had known before)? What would happen to the millions of refugees who would try to flee the conflict? Who would feed and care for them? Who would finance and help rebuild the country? Would South Korea have the means or the inclination to reintegrate a heavily indoctrinated populace into a new order of events (for North Koreans) and thereby increasing the South's population by about 50%? Would China? Would the USA?

Remember it took about eight years (or so I believe) to reintegrate East Germany into the now unified Germany.

While I am certainly no expert on North Korea I have a strong suspicion that the current leader may adopt the end idealized by Hitler and invoke the “Gotterdammerung” approach, “If my Kim family cannot rule the country anymore then no one will” – kind of thing. Remember North Korea is a nuclear country and they have the will and the means to lay waste to the entire country.

 This sort of thing is not to be contemplated – ever.