Jul
16
Above the quiet, there’s a buzz. (That’s me trying.)
Filed Under general |
I’ve been reading alot about funerary customs lately. In ancient Rome, the funeral party would walk long, public processions to the pyre. Buddhists observe a period of offerings to the poor as part of their bereavement. The Jewish people hold shiva, a week-long gathering wherein relatives congregate in one house to mourn and pray. They receive visitors, who bring food. They cover mirrors and refuse to attend to the regular patterns of hygiene: nobody bathes or shaves. They confront grief face-to-face: they submit to it, immersing themselves in pain and loss. For many Jews, shiva requires silence and absolute isolation from meaningful human interaction.
In a way, I envy this: a tremendous dedication to the memory of the deceased; a kind of slow, laborious grieving; full surrender to the pain and numbness of tragedy. My body doesn’t work this when. In the last two weeks, I’ve made every effort to keep moving at full steam: working, eating, cooking, cleaning, biking, distracting myself with books and movies and even the occasional reality television show. I hold other people, mourn with them, listen to their memories and laments. It helps me to help them. Hearing their stories remind me of my own, which is my form of lament, my form of remembrance.
In the midst of it all, though, we persevere. Like it or not, the sun rises and sets and work accumulates. There are weeds to be pulled and articles to be written. People celebrate birthdays; babies are born. We get good news; we get bad news. The ebb and flow of life continues its undulating rhythms. In spite of all that is wretched and heartbreaking, life goes on. For now, we keep shuffling through the days, our rubber soles squeaking on the parquet. As the poet once said, if we can’t manage any forward motion, the best we can do is keep buzzing.
Comments
7 Comments so far
Oh Devin. This is so good. I want you to visit and hang out here, because I am lonely and bored.
i like this.
I like this insofar as you refer to William Shatner as “the poet.”
Insofar as=Mary Holloway.
Yes, that was an inside joke insofar as only you, me and Devin got it.
Truly though, you say what I feel quite well. If only I could do what you suggest doing. That would be progress. Excellent piece.
I smell a new blog post.
i am so glad to have stumbled upon this/you.
i hope you are well, friend.
and that you have gummi bears in abundance.