Too true for some but not for all. But in the end, ultimately you are on your own, even with family around you. Growing older and old is a unique experience.
Today is my Mother’s funeral. She lived 96 years and 6 months. She lived in her mind and body until 48 hours before passing but had been ready to leave anytime over the past 4 years. Sometimes people stay, for others. I told her she could leave.
It's true. I never would have expected it when I was in my 20s. Then when I lost someone I wanted to burn down the world. Now I almost feel affection toward my collection of heartbreaks. These changes are coming to feel more like small initiations into the depth and vastness of living. Over time with some prompting, I started to get curious about impermamence itself and started to recognize it as the flavor and texture of experience. Metamorphosis. Getting on friendlier terms with the changiness. I'm glad I've lived long enough to see that. Death is normal but so is rebirth. Wisdom! Thanks for posting.
That's a very profound response, and I understand what you are saying. You are perhaps one of life's philosophers who can see the big picture - much like Donald Hall himself.
Hall observed something I found interesting: "workshops encourage a kind of local competition, being better than the poet who sits next to you—in place of the useful competition of trying to be better than Dante."
This poem states the actual experience -- relative to the poet's own refraction through his particular consciousness -- of every human who has ever lived, or is living today, or will ever live. Whether we take it as tragic or simply truthful, or perhaps as a (or the) clue to our real identity beyond this form whose essential nature is nothingness, fleetingness, the fact of loss embodied -- that's up to each of us.
Thank you for adding this important insight to the freewheeling discussion. Hall’s reflection echoes T.S. Eliot—“Dark, dark, into the dark. They all go into the dark.” But before that happens, Hall reminds himself, there is this crumbling dissolution of every illusion.
Hall’s stirring and sensible poem roused a bizarre train of thoughts in my head.
So I imagine that it is for the young to change the world while the old are finally allowed to nurture the wounds from past battles, which they didn’t have time to handle sooner.
To “stifle under mud at the pond's edge” might be a “fitting and delicious” way to cover the scars and tears.
But, while you are there waiting and having nothing else to do, I wonder why not opening your chest entirely and experience all to the fullest, to see what else there is to learn about human limits and its ephemeral nature? Is it still possible or are we so blunt and tired at that point in life that all we wait for, is to run out of air?
Too true for some but not for all. But in the end, ultimately you are on your own, even with family around you. Growing older and old is a unique experience.
Yes, that's an understatement! Nothing quite like it lol.
Today is my Mother’s funeral. She lived 96 years and 6 months. She lived in her mind and body until 48 hours before passing but had been ready to leave anytime over the past 4 years. Sometimes people stay, for others. I told her she could leave.
Sorry for your loss.
Thank you Catherine.
It's true. I never would have expected it when I was in my 20s. Then when I lost someone I wanted to burn down the world. Now I almost feel affection toward my collection of heartbreaks. These changes are coming to feel more like small initiations into the depth and vastness of living. Over time with some prompting, I started to get curious about impermamence itself and started to recognize it as the flavor and texture of experience. Metamorphosis. Getting on friendlier terms with the changiness. I'm glad I've lived long enough to see that. Death is normal but so is rebirth. Wisdom! Thanks for posting.
That's a very profound response, and I understand what you are saying. You are perhaps one of life's philosophers who can see the big picture - much like Donald Hall himself.
Takes one to know one.
“Now I almost feel affection toward my collection of heartbreaks.” Great sentence. When feeling up / I have similar notions.
It's a delicious unassailable feeling when it deigns to visit
a favorite Hall quote on creative writing programs
in universities: "We have enough terrible poetry around
without encouraging more of it. Workshops make workshop-poems."
Ha! It took me years to recover from my MFA at NYU.
Hall observed something I found interesting: "workshops encourage a kind of local competition, being better than the poet who sits next to you—in place of the useful competition of trying to be better than Dante."
I'm the poet next to you.
Or just better than your immediate past self.
Yes, spoken by a true master poet.
This sentiment i love. Beautifully said
We must learn to love the losses.. yes. Afterall, it sets us free. "On my way to enlightenment, I lost everything" laughed the master...
WOW! Beautifully expressed. SO true.
This poem states the actual experience -- relative to the poet's own refraction through his particular consciousness -- of every human who has ever lived, or is living today, or will ever live. Whether we take it as tragic or simply truthful, or perhaps as a (or the) clue to our real identity beyond this form whose essential nature is nothingness, fleetingness, the fact of loss embodied -- that's up to each of us.
Thank you for adding this important insight to the freewheeling discussion. Hall’s reflection echoes T.S. Eliot—“Dark, dark, into the dark. They all go into the dark.” But before that happens, Hall reminds himself, there is this crumbling dissolution of every illusion.
Well observed with the Eliot line. Yes, indeed. 🙏
I am familiar with Donald Hall's work, and I know this poem. I think it's very real and very moving.
As our poet laureate of the state of New Hampshire, I especially love this poem. Thank you for introducing me to it again.
From Concord, NH
We're lucky to keep growing old to lose everything until we're dust.
Yes, makes it easier to let go - and go.
A fitting reminder on how fleeting and fragile life truly is.
We come with nothing and leave with nothing.
Ah, beautifully expressed.
Thank you.
Hall’s stirring and sensible poem roused a bizarre train of thoughts in my head.
So I imagine that it is for the young to change the world while the old are finally allowed to nurture the wounds from past battles, which they didn’t have time to handle sooner.
To “stifle under mud at the pond's edge” might be a “fitting and delicious” way to cover the scars and tears.
But, while you are there waiting and having nothing else to do, I wonder why not opening your chest entirely and experience all to the fullest, to see what else there is to learn about human limits and its ephemeral nature? Is it still possible or are we so blunt and tired at that point in life that all we wait for, is to run out of air?
I guess I’ll have to wait and see…
Having observed I will say yes, many elders do this. They are still living and growing if they choose to.
👏👏👏”delicious.” ❤️
As I creak out of bed each day I try to be thankful in light of the alternative.
Amen (and Om), sistah! At 82 years old and counting, I'm right there with you!
I here these words, I see the pond, I worry about the mud but I can't basque in delicious...
I get it.
Brutal and brilliant
Sadly, yes.
Thanks for linking to Hall’s complete poem. It’s wonderful and deserves to be read to this wise ending . “Let us stifle under mud at the pond's edge
and affirm that it is fitting
and delicious to lose everything.”
'Another friend of decades estranges himself
in words that pollute thirty years...'
This is what frightens me - like someone I read recently, I often defer thinking before speaking, until the early hours.
Nice writing from Mr Hall. It feels familiar.
Thank you.
Such a wonderful poem. Really speaks to me right now.