Poets have always understood the valuable uselessness of reverie, and in the depths of my grief it was the poets who saved me. Every day I would read out loud some words of this or that poet, and it was the absence of advice which comforted me. I did not have to struggle to take anything in, to make some sense of it, to make it fit the loss I had suffered. No, it was enough just to hear the sound of the words, and to be held in the rhythm of the language, this first level of vitality where I was seduced by the flow of language, by its animating force before I had to ask what the words might mean…..In grief I needed something more than to know how the world works and how it is put together, especially when the world I had known had exploded apart. I needed to be embraced by what I loved to feel held, and even kissed by the world. And that is what these moments of reverie did for me. …. Cummings writes.
(While you and I have lips and voices which
are for kissing and to sing with
who cares if some one-eyed son of a bitch
invents an instrument to measure Spring with?
each dream nascitur, is not made..)
why then to Hell with that; the other; this,
since the thing perhaps is
to eat flowers and not to be afraid.
Imagine knowing spring by eating flowers! Like knowing the stars perhaps by making love! Each dream ,
nasciturhe says. Each word is born through us, not made by us. Knowing the world, like knowing spring, is the fruits of a coupling. In grief I was forced to come to terms with the brutal fact that I am not in control of my life, and that no matter what I might do I cannot save anyone from their fate, least of all those whom I love. Grief blew apart my familiar world and forced me to recognise that I am not as much the author of meaning as I had believed myself to be. Rather, I am more like an agent of meaning, the means by which the dusty dreams of things of the world are realised.Reveries in grief took me to this strange place of reversal where the terrible, lonely isolation of grief did open up to a sense that I was held and loved by forces larger than myself and which I could not ever fully understand. In this regard, the primary vitality of poetry cut below what my mind knew, and would seek to know, about grief and easing its pain. Poetry`s raw vitality spoke to my heart and shattered in grief, my soul shipwrecked in sorrow. To my mind cracked by grief, poetry offered no proof that life would come again, but it did offer some promise that it might. To my mind tormented in mourning, poetry offered no facts to ease the pain. Rather, it offered a kind of dumb, animal faith that life does endure. In the depths of my grieving, promise and faith were as fragile as dust and nothing when measured against the density of proof or the hard certainty of fact. That this at is I had – dust and dreams.
Reverie slows us down, as grief assuredly does, and helps us to remember that in the marrow of the bone we have a deep hunger for the world, an appetite which in some dim praise and even envy of the animal, makes us long at times to be sky and tree, bird and star, ocean and wind. I know that I felt this hunger many times, and at other times felt the fulfillment of that longing, felt the wonder of being a stone, rooted, enduring, but silent, deaf to everything, if only for a moment, folded contentedly within a deeply felt sense of place. I know that there were times in the two winters of mourning that I did feel the intense, enduring peace of the stone.
Robert Romanyshyn : Dust and Dreams : Reveries at the Heart of Grief
Having felt that healing balm of poetry that can and does enfold us in times of suffering and grief I can resonate with much of what is expressed in this extract from The Soul in Grief. Loss and grief removes us from fixed certainties of the world which before we never questioned, it shatters our sense of meaning, endurace and what can be relied upon. With every word of Romanyshyn`s I read I can only think of what Carl Jung said :
We can only know what supports us when all that has supported us disappears.
This are not his words but a paraphrase. When we are no longer supported our soul goes on a quest to find some holding somewhere. In grief and left alone we feel ourselves to be falling through thin air not trusting that there is any place to land, to say ‘the bottom has dropped’ out is not enough, but those who have endured this terrible passage of profound undoing will understand.
Even though Romanyshyn found no meaning in his grief, moments of silent reverie helped his soul expand more than any words could say. Words of poets somehow comforted him, and that resonates with me. In a world that at time seems deaf, dumb and blind to soul anguish, where would we be without poetry?
Emerging From The Dark Night 
Wonderful words. Life is like trying to trap a fly in your hands, just when you think you have it flies away in a pattern you can’t hope to contain.
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I missed this comment of yours 2 years ago. Very true and wise words. ❤
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Tears in my eyes … I know only too well this grief you speak of. It is my camera and “words” that are bringing back my sanity to me. Not too much makes sense to me right now as I attempt to rebuild my world, a world that crashed and burned. BIG (((HUGS))) and thank you for posting this!! Much Love to you! 💞🍁💞
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Oh my heart goes out to you so much. This book is just the most affirming and deeply understanding book on grief I have ever read. Its so hard to address grief and the losses we are left with can be like chasms inside. Lots and lots of love I am so glad this touches you as much as it does me. ❤ ❤ ❤
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There are days I question my sanity because just too much too fast, was torn from my life. The mind can only handle so much and what makes it even more difficult, those that I Love others did not know as I did so there is no understanding when I speak of them in the way I Loved them. I have begun to “speak” to those who have gone, telling them how I feel, letting the tears drip from off my face, and expressing just how much in how many ways I miss them. If this shows my mental instability then I suppose I am. What is sanity by whose standards? I am just me doing my best to stand back up in one piece after being torn down so completely. I am sure you of all people can understand what I write here. 💝
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I don’t think I fully explained myself here. Those who comprise of my biological family do not want to listen to what I have to say about our mother who just passed away for several reasons. From what I can surmise, there is jealousy because of the love that I obtained with my mother at the end. There is also ignorance, the inability to comprehend the level of Love that I speak of and know, because of outright hatred, and there is a major stigma attached to me which is my family have formed an opinion regarding me which is far from the truth. I am writing these things here because there are certain people who tend to spy on me at my blog. If you get my drift. So who to turn to to pour my heart out to? Yes I use my blog but I have begun to speak directly to those I have recently lost, my mother not being the only one. And like I said if this makes me crazy then so be it. Thank you so much for listening and thank you so much for validating the pain of my heart.
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I think when you truely love others who dont fear that or try to hurt you. I dont know why and the world is full of ignorance. Please feel free to write here to your heart’s content. I am listening and hearing. ❤ ❤ ❤
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I’ve really been thinking about you and what you have written to me. Thank you somehow seems inadequate. I am breaking the “family code of silence” to find healing for me and there are some siblings who are very upset with me. Slowly I reveal certain things on my blog yet before I write I make sure I am coming from an aspect of Love. My Mother was my main abuser as a child yet because I was determined to bring an end to MY bitterness, I opted to close the gap between she and me the last almost 2 years of her life. In so doing, I ended up Loving her in ways I never saw coming. Would you believe there are some in my family who are “jealous” of me and some who harbor “hard feelings” because of what I did with our Mother? I have worked so hard to rise above the dysfunction I was taught and still to this day am doing so, but I seem to be the only one in my bio family who is doing so. To put it in a nutshell … I am not appreciated. I’ve already received hate snail mail from family and that is why I carefully listen to my Heart’s directive as to when and how to write. I wish no harm on anyone by speaking Truth. Bless you for being an “ear” for me. Just validating my life in the form of “words” is setting me free. And YOU are a big part of it. THANK YOU!!! 💞
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It takes a lot of heart and courage to step beyond our own pain to love an abuser. I think in the end your families reactions say a lot about their own limits. That said we all have our own path to travel and not everyone has a big enough heart to step beyond their own pain.
If I can be here for you or affirm you in anyway at all that makes my heart lift. I personally feel the soul beauty and love that radiates from your images and blog. And so do a lot of others. And I am honoured you have trusted me to share this painful situation with. Thank you.
I’d love to be able to give you a hug, Amy but since I can’t, here is a cyber hug for you (–) not the same I know ❤ ❤
Keep staying strong and trusting in your path.
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To me that is not insanity, Amy. It is not! Whomever we love remains a part of us and our soul inextricably linked into the fabric of our being as our hearts touched. I am so deeply sorry you have endured so much but I also understad how too much loss can blindside us (and that is not the best word to describe what we go through when we suffer in this way). I do understand all you write and am with you in spirit, so glad you reached out to share all of that with me. Much love to you. ❤
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Say, you got a nice blog post.Thanks Again.
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Thanks so much for reading and appreciating Janice.
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Perfect just what I was looking for! .
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Thank you that lifts my heart ❤
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