POETS UNITED - HONOURING OUR ELDERS

“We’ve put more effort into helping folks reach old age than into helping them enjoy it.” - Frank A. Clark

We live in a consumer society where we are all under extreme pressure to buy and use things till we grow tired of them or until they break. And then we cast them aside to buy new ones: Improved, shiny models, with many new features. Misguidedly, we do the same to people and even more so to our elderly whom we inter in “nursing homes”, “retirement facilities” and “seniors’ retreats” where we know they will be “cared for and attended” to by “experts”.

I often visit a nursing home close by to where I live and I am always amazed by the number of elderly people that have been abandoned there, forgotten by their relatives. Even though I have no elderly relatives of mine to visit there, going and seeing some of these “forgotten people” that nobody wants any longer is both a chilling and a heart-warming experience. Some of these elderly people are so full of life and are such wonderful human beings that I am enriched by meeting them and by just sitting and listening to them. As a society we have lost so much by abandoning the extended family and opting for the nuclear family. There is so much wisdom, humour, kindness, experience and love that we miss out on…

Poets United this week has as its theme “Honouring our Elders”. My poem below:

The Winter of Discontent

The flakes of snow fall softly
And the landscape becomes pure, white.
He looks out of the window, endlessly,
His hair whiter than the snow,
His skin more furrowed
Than the distant ploughed field that is being snow-dusted
As though with icing sugar.

The cold outside prodigious,
Poor birds with fluffed up feathers
Fail to keep warm and trembling, die frozen;
His heart even colder than ice,
His eyes rheumy, with gray-blue sharp gaze
That cuts the glass of windowpanes
Letting his trapped soul roam free amongst the snowflakes.

The wind howls – or is it a lone, hungry wolf
Howling, with red embers of eyes
Staring back at him in the dark pine forest?
Retirement home: “The Pines”
Where old and toothless wolves like him
Have been discarded, and duly forgotten,
By caring offspring, whose kindness cuts like glass shards.

Night falls early outside and dark green sky
Makes of the snow an ultramarine pall
That covers frigid earth, her sleep too much like death.
He still stares out of the window
And he reminisces the long past verdant Springs,
The Summers of warmth and lush desires,
The Autumns of ripe fulfilment.

And now, as his own night weighs heavily on him,
He knows this is his last Winter of discontent,
When all alone he will pass from this final season
Into the last great mystery of the endless sleep…

They found him ice-cold the next gray morning,
The sleeping pill bottle empty by the bed
And the window wide open, letting the snow drift in.

MOVIE MONDAY - THE LIVES OF OTHERS

“Courage is grace under pressure.” - Ernest Hemingway

We watched Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck 2006 excellent film “The Lives of Others” starring Ulrich Mühe, Martina Gedeck, Sebastian Koch, Ulrich Tukur and Thomas Thieme. The director also wrote the screenplay, which must have made this film one that is very close to his heart. This is definitely one film that is worth the 78 wins and 27 nominations for awards that it achieved, including the 2007 Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film.

The plot has as follows: Gerd Wiesler (Ulrich Mühe) is an officer with the Stasi, the East German secret police. It is 1984 when Wiesler attends a play written by Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch), who is considered by many to be the ultimate example of the loyal citizen and a man of letters that supports the East German Socialist regime. Wiesler has a gut feeling that Dreyman can’t be as ideal as he seems and believes surveillance is called for. The Minister of Culture (Thomas Thieme) agrees but only later does Wiesler learn that the Minister sees Wiesler as a rival and lusts after his partner and leading actress, Christa (Martina Gedeck).

Dreyman’s apartment is bugged and Wiesler is in charge of surveillance. The more time Wiesler spends listening in on them, the more involved he becomes in their lives and he comes to care about them. The once rigid Stasi officer begins to intervene in their lives, in a positive way, protecting them whenever possible. Eventually, Wiesler’s activities catch up with him and he must prove himself loyal to the regime and his superior, Lieutenant Colonel Anton Grubitz (Ulrich Tukur)…

The film is 137 minutes long, but never did we look at the clock and it kept our interest up throughout. The acting was exceptional, the cinematography, sets, costumes and music splendid and production values wonderful. This was a stellar film in all categories. That everyone involved in its making believed in it is supported by the fact that the entire budget of the film, about 2 million dollars (1.6 million Euro), was possible only because the actors were willing to work for 20% of their customary salary.

The themes running through the movie are art (literature, music, acting, etc), and the positive effect it can have on people’s lives; conscience, and for how long we can choose ignore it; betrayal, and the way we can fall into its trap; redemption, and how we can salvage our self respect and humanity in the face of past wrongdoing. The manner in which a person may realise the error of their way and how they can actively take steps to make right their wrongs in a pivotal element in the film and is it this positive transformation of character that makes the movie a powerful one.

I would recommend this film most highly, but be warned, it is a gritty, “heavy”, confronting film that challenges viewers and exposes many of the atrocities of totalitarian regimes, highlighting the abuses of human rights and personal freedom that is inevitable in such regimes. It is a robust, substantial and absorbing film that one can sink one’s teeth into. We found it poignant, moving and extremely satisfying as both a movie and as a political statement.

POETRY JAM - THE SEA

“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.” - Albert Camus

‘The Sea’ is this week’s prompt at Poetry Jam and all who take up the challenge offer a poem. Here is mine:

*************************

Evening Promenade

Twilight: Shadows lengthen,

While sunset dyes all in orange mellowness.

Whispers of night advancing –

Illusions rustling by,

Taking advantage of the failing light.

The usual sounds of evening

Quietly merge with the silence

Which more befits the mystery of night.

Cheated even by hope, and disillusioned

You walk slowly towards the sea.

The sun vanishes and only a faint afterglow

Reflects itself on shifting waters

Of a duplicitous sea.

Dreams, fantasies, visions,

Distortions of reality, pass you by…

And then it is all so easy:

It’s all a dream, all so unreal in any case –

But then what’s real you ask?

You walk into the sea

And let the waves take you into their embrace.

You breathe in, but cool, fresh, living

Salty water suffocates your scream,

Filling your lungs with saline

Giving you joy, confusion, pain,

And then, thankfully, oblivion.

The illustration is an underwater sculpture by artist JasondeCaires Taylor.

ANOTHER OPHELIA

“The world breaks everyone and afterward many are stronger at the broken places.” Ernest Hemingway

A friend I spoke to recently, mentioned that one of our common acquaintances had committed suicide. She was 42 years old, married, did not have any children and apparently lived an ordinary life, in the seaside suburbs. One night her husband came home and found the light on in the kitchen, the door open and his wife nowhere to be found. It turned out she had gone to the pier and thrown herself into the sea. Her body was washed up on the beach the same day. My friend was absolutely perplexed as to why this woman should have committed suicide, especially as her personality was so bubbly and her home life was apparently “happy”…

All is not as it seems: Who knows what deep wounds she had in her soul of souls that she could not heal? One of the reasons may have been her childlessness – she couldn’t have children apparently. Was the life in the suburbs simply too much of a mindless rut that she could not get out of? Living surrounded by “happy families” may have been too much of a daily reminder of her own family’s incompleteness. One may ask, why didn’t they adopt? Who knows, they may have tried. Our adoption laws in this country are so Byzantine and convoluted and the number of children available is so small, that I am not surprised if they didn’t even try.

On the other hand, her “happy” home life may not have been so. Who knows the sort of problems that she and her husband may have had. Was an affair the problem? Was there another woman? Was there a divorce looming ahead? Could there have been health problems? Depression? There was no suicide note, just the open kitchen door and the light left on, shining out into the night, its glow a false promise of warmth, security and normality.

Suicide has been regarded differently by different societies. It is condemned by Islam, Judaism, and Christianity, with suicide attempts being punishable by law in many countries. The Brahmans of India, however, tolerate suicide; and suttee, the theoretically voluntary suicide of an Indian widow, now outlawed, was highly praised at one time. In ancient Greece, convicted criminals were permitted to take their own lives (eg. Socrates), but the Roman attitude toward suicide hardened toward the end of the empire as a result of the high incidence among slaves, who thus deprived their owners of valuable property. Buddhist monks and nuns have committed sacrificial suicide by self-immolation as a form of social protest. The Japanese have long-honoured the custom of seppuku (= hara-kiri), or self-disembowelment, as a ceremonial rite among samurai, who preferred this fate rather than life led dishonourably.

A fatal suicide causes grief and guilt for those who may feel that they could have prevented it by caring and loving more than they did. If the act is non-fatal, it can serve as an appeal for help and may give rise to efforts at remediation. Conscious or unconscious expectation of these responses is one of the factors underlying many suicidal acts. Personality and social factors, the stress on the individual rather than the whole of society, mental illness, physical illness, high standard of living, peace and boredom all have been implicated as contributing to a high incidence of suicide in Western countries. It is interesting to note that suicide rates decrease dramatically in wartime and in cultures where extended families still are the norm.

In Australia, the facts about suicide are:

• About 2,500 people take their own lives in Australia annually.
• Which means an average of seven suicides per day.
• For every completed suicide there are over 30 attempts.
• Therefore there are over 210 people a day attempting suicide.
• There are 8.5 times more deaths by suicide in Australia than by homicide.
• There are 1.5 times more deaths by suicide in Australia than by road accidents.

As Hemingway says, the world breaks us and if we mend we are stronger at the broken place, but we have to survive to mend…

The painting above is “Ophelia” (1852) by John Everett Millais, part of the Tate Gallery collection. The painting influenced the image in Kenneth Branagh’s “Hamlet”.

WORLD MENTAL HEALTH DAY - 2012

“There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.” - Laurell K. Hamilton
 
October 10^th has been declared by the WHO as World Mental Health Day. This is a day that raises public awareness about mental health issues. It promotes open discussion of mental disorders, and investments in prevention, promotion and treatment services. This year the theme for the day is “Depression: A Global Crisis”.
 
Depression affects more than 350 million people of all ages, in all communities, and is a significant contributor to the global burden of disease. Although there are known effective treatments for depression, access to treatment is a problem in most countries and in some countries fewer than 10% of those who need it receive such treatment.
 
On this 20^th anniversary of World Mental Health Day it is appropriate to remember the founder of the event, Richard Hunter (1914-2004). He was a man with a vision that mental health concerns would be recognised as an integral part of overall health, and who felt that mental health should be considered with equal importance alongside physical health. He did much to improve the care of people with mental illnesses, and each year without knowing it the organisers of national and local World Mental Health Day activities carry forward his vision. He would have been very proud to see how widespread World Mental Health Day is now and how aware people have become of mental illness through the activities organised on this day.
 
Richard Hunter trained as a lawyer in Minnesota, USA. His career changed direction when he registered for alternative service as a conscientious objector during World War II, having declined to serve in the armed forces. He was assigned to work as an attendant in a psychiatric hospital and spent three years at institutions in North Carolina and New Jersey. Those years made him aware of the plight of people with mental health problems and the need to improve standards of care.
 
He was also moved by the writings of Clifford Beers (1876- 1943), who experienced severe mental illness and in recovery led a movement in the United States to reform the conditions he had experienced in mental hospitals. After the war Dick Hunter joined the staff of the National Mental Health Foundation and later became a senior staff member of the National Mental Health Association (now Mental Health America). On his retirement, Dick was recruited as the Deputy Secretary General of the World Federation for Mental Health, serving in that capacity as a volunteer from 1983 until 2002, a central figure in the Federation’s worldwide network.
 
He continued to work at his office as an advisor to the Federation until a few weeks before his death in 2004. It was he who promoted the idea in 1992 that mental health deserved an annual “Day,” like similar observances for other causes. He saw that an international World Mental Health Day could be, in his own words, “a focal point around which global mental health advocacy could gain maximum public attention.” When the suggestion came up that the World Federation for Mental Health should sponsor an international telecast, he saw a valuable opportunity. A broadcast received in many countries could become a central feature of a wider celebration linking activities not only for advocacy but for much needed public education.
 
Depression is a common mental disorder that presents with depressed mood, loss of interest or pleasure, decreased energy, feelings of guilt or low self-esteem, disturbed sleep or appetite, and poor concentration. Moreover, depression often comes with symptoms of anxiety. These problems can become chronic or recurrent and lead to substantial impairments in an individual’s ability to take care of their everyday responsibilities. At its worst, depression can lead to suicide. Almost 1 million lives are lost yearly due to suicide, which translates to 3000 suicide deaths every day. For every person who completes a suicide, 20 or more may attempt to end their life.
 
While depression is the leading cause of disability for both males and females, the burden of depression is 50% higher for females than males.  In fact, depression is the leading cause of disease burden for women in both high-income and low- and middle-income countries. Research in developing countries suggests that maternal depression may be a risk factor for poor growth in young children. This risk factor could mean that maternal mental health in low-income countries may have a substantial influence on growth during childhood, with the effects of depression affecting not only this generation but also the next.
 
Depression is a disorder that can be reliably diagnosed and treated in primary care. Preferable treatment options consist of basic psychosocial support combined with antidepressant medication or psychotherapy, such as cognitive behavior therapy, interpersonal psychotherapy or problem-solving treatment. Antidepressant medications and brief, structured forms of psychotherapy are effective. Antidepressants can be a very effective form of treatment for moderate-severe depression but are not the first line of treatment for cases of mild or sub-threshold depression. As an adjunct to care by specialists or in primary health care, self-help is an important approach to help people with depression. Innovative approaches involving self-help books or internet-based self-help programs have been shown to help reduce or treat depression in numerous studies in Western countries.

ANOTHER VIOLENT CRIME

“We live longer than our forefathers; but we suffer more from a thousand artificial anxieties and cares. They fatigued only the muscles, we exhaust the finer strength of the nerves.” - Edward George Bulwer-Lytton

Are we going mad collectively? Has our society reached such a level of stress and distress, that we are being driven insane by the massive shocks that assail us every day? Have we lost the ability to cope and are we being driven crazy? The more I listen to the news, the more convinced I become that this is indeed the case with more and more those around us losing touch with the reality that is so traumatic, that they become demented.

The latest news out of one of England’s most beautiful places, the Lake District, is an example of this.  The 52-year-old man, cab driver, who killed 12 people and injured at least 26 others as he drove around for three-and-a-half hours, surely must have snapped! The man is a divorced father of two and was described by shocked friends and family as a quiet, “regular” guy. Yet, this ordinary person purposefully drove around the tranquil countryside of Cumbria and indiscriminately shot people he didn’t know: An elderly shopper whom he beckoned to approach him before shooting her in cold blood; a father of two in his 30s, gunned down as he trimmed a hedge; and a 64-year-old grandfather who unluckily was riding his bike past the cab driver’s taxi.

But it gets worse! The man is believed to have been driven to execute his terrible rampage after he and his twin brother had a bitter row over his mother’s will. He shot his twin brother and then executed a solicitor who had been advising the family. He then went to kill some of his colleagues, taxi drivers with whom he had argued previously. The deadly carnage ended in even more blood as finally the unhinged cabbie shot himself fatally in remote woodland. Police were initially concerned that the man had also killed his mother, but she was found alive and is now being taken of by family.

How much pent-up hatred must have been festering inside this man for so long! How the lure of filthy lucre must have corrupted his logic, drowned any sense of morality, destroyed any sense of love or even sense of duty and respect towards his own family! How I pity the poor mother who now has to deal with the death of her twin sons, but also the knowledge that one had succumbed to fratricide and then to suicide after a bloody spree which killed so many and destroyed so many lives. It would be understandable is she were to go mad herself…

We live in an increasingly toxic society, surrounded by daily occurrences that subject us to countless tensions, engender anxiety, cause endless strain. We are constantly assailed by messages through the mass media that try to convince us that consumerism means happiness and that money can buy everything and everyone. We accumulate anger, frustration, dissatisfaction, disappointment, we bottle up our negativity and discontent. If we fail to develop mechanisms to resist this onslaught, the spring snaps and breaks. We move into an uncontrolled cycle of insanity that may end in violence – against others, against ourselves.

How can we prevent it? Is it possible to prevent it? Of course it is. There are so many people around us who live in the same environment as those who become unhinged and manage to live balanced and contented lives. I mentioned in yesterday’s blog that although I have a demanding job with many challenges, much responsibility and many stressors, I manage to remain free of stress and function well. How do I do it?

Firstly, one must be able to think coolly, control emotions positively and channel one’s energy away from negativity. One must have a sense of the spiritual. There must be creativity and humour in one’s life. People who work hard must learn to relax and play hard as well. Here are some pointers:

• If you have no control over something, stop trying to alter it, check it or curb it. Rather accept that you cannot change it and move on. This can generate an enormous sense of peace and liberation.
• Stop and reflect on situations that stress you. Take deep breaths, calm yourself down and remove your thoughts from the situation that is causing you angst. 
• Meditation and yoga are another step in the right direction and if you can get into these, you will find that serenity will enter your life.
• Regular exercise can also have a positive de-stressing effect.
• Take the initiative to have a mental health day. We need a day like that every now and then to restore and renew our mind and soul. Don’t feel guilty, remember this is for your mental health and you are taking care of yourself.
• Pamper yourself. Take a warm bath. Get a massage!
• Read a good book that will allow you to enter another world and escape. Relax and let your imagination run riot.
• Play! With your kids, play with your friends or your partner, but play!! You are never too old.
• And last, but perhaps most important of all, laugh…

stress |stres| noun
1 pressure or tension exerted on a material object: The distribution of stress is uniform across the bar.
• the degree of this measured in units of force per unit area.
2 a state of mental or emotional strain or tension resulting from adverse or very demanding circumstances: He's obviously under a lot of stress | [in combination] stress-related illnesses.
• something that causes such a state: The stresses and strains of public life.
3 particular emphasis or importance: He has started to lay greater stress on the government's role in industry.
• emphasis given to a particular syllable or word in speech, typically through a combination of relatively greater loudness, higher pitch, and longer duration: Normally, the stress falls on the first syllable.

verb
1 [ reporting verb ] give particular emphasis or importance to (a point, statement, or idea) made in speech or writing : [ trans. ] They stressed the need for reform | [with clause ] She was anxious to stress that her daughter's safety was her only concern | [with direct speech ] “I want it done very, very neatly,” she stressed.
• [ trans. ] give emphasis to (a syllable or word) when pronouncing it.
2 [ trans. ] subject to pressure or tension: This type of workout does stress the shoulder and knee joints.
3 [ trans. ] cause mental or emotional strain or tension in: I avoid many of the things that used to stress me before | [as adj. ] ( stressed) She should see a doctor if she is feeling particularly stressed out.
• [ intrans. ] informal become tense or anxious; worry: Don't stress—there's plenty of time to get a grip on the situation.

DERIVATIVES
stressless adjective
stressor |-ər| noun (in senses 2 and 3 of the verb) .
ORIGIN Middle English (denoting hardship or force exerted on a person for the purpose of compulsion): Shortening of distress , or partly from Old French estresse ‘narrowness, oppression,’ based on Latin strictus ‘drawn tight’.

ART SUNDAY - KIRCHNER

“The problem in defense is how far you can go without destroying from within what you are trying to defend from without.” - Dwight D. Eisenhower

For Art Sunday today, Ernst Ludwig Kirchner (1880-1938), who was born in Aschaffenburg in Germany. He studied architecture in the Technische Hochschule at Dresden, and painting in Munich. In 1905, he and his colleagues founded the Die Brücke group. He was the leader among the German Expressionists at the time. In 1911, Kirchner moved to Berlin and the complexity of Berlin’s urban cavalcade prompted him to capture it on canvas. Berlin’s social life, the women, the glamour and all of Berlin’s artificiality were captured by Kirchner’s “bold lines and clashing colors.” The First World War was soon to follow and it would deeply effect Kirchner’s concentration on his art.

Kirchner participated in the field artillery of the First World War. He served in the 75th Artillery Regiment. However, in October 1915, he was discharged because of lung disease and because of several nervous breakdowns. The artist, in fact, would never recover from the persecutions of the Nazis. Later in the Second World War, the Nazis condemned him as a degenerate artist and confiscated 600 of his works. Kirchner was unable to handle so much hatred and he committed suicide on June 15, 1938.

His painting from 1923 “Kaffeetisch”, Oil on canvas, 119 x 120 cm, Museum Folkwang Essen shows a lapse into cheerfulness as with bright colours and simple direct forms he depicts an intimate coffee party where a family are enjoying the simple pleasures of life. The intent gazes of the two women deep in conversation, the tender gesture of the little girl holding her mother’s hand and the rapt attention of the father as he looks across to his wife are a tender testament to the quiet domesticity that Kirchner had missed in the trenches of the first world war and which he could see threatened as the storm clouds presaging the second world war were gathering.

CYBER-BULLYING AND SUICIDE

“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.” – Albert Camus

Last Friday night a 14-year-old schoolgirl in Geelong (a city 75 km southwest of Melbourne with a population of 161,000) committed suicide. She is the fourth student connected to a Geelong high school who has taken her own life in the last six months. This is frightening not only because of the age of the girl and the associated suicides at the same school, but also because the suicides appear to be connected to the internet and “cyber-bullying”. The unfortunate girl, Chanelle Rae killed herself hours after receiving a pernicious message on the internet.

The girl’s mother said her daughter was having “trouble” with some friends from school. After spending some time on the internet on Friday evening, Chanelle Rae went to her mother and said she had received a message that made her “want to die”. Mother and daughter spoke about it, the mother spending an hour with her and then after the mother thought the issue was resolved, left the daughter alone. When the girl’s father came home about an hour after the discussion of his daughter with his wife, he found the girl dead in her room.

I cannot imagine the plight of these parents, cannot comprehend the magnitude of the anguish they must be feeling in the wake of this disaster. To be speaking to your daughter one minute, to believe that you have discussed with her problems and resolved them (or at least lightened the perceived burden she was carrying) and then to find her later dead in her room must be one of the most horrific of experiences. The way in which the girl was reduced to the psychological state that drove to self-harm is also an alarming and chilling reminder of the pervasiveness of the internet and how it is affecting our everyday life.

Chanelle Rae’s mother is on the record as saying: “I can guarantee you if she didn’t go on the internet on Friday she’d still be alive today…” I find this statement as indication of a particularly abominable and deleterious use of a technology that is meant to make our life easier and more pleasant. How true of most inventions, one may say: We split the atom and unlocked the marvels of the atomic age and limitless energy, only to quickly harness that power into the destructive atom bomb. We discovered the wonderful therapeutic effects of narcotics, only to turn them into the drug menace that kills so many people around the world. We set satellites upon the heavens to enable the information revolution and help in our communication, but also perverted their use to enable them to function as spy machines and as a means to enable star-wars warfare. We use the internet as a tool, as entertainment, as a boon to communication and knowledge acquisition, only to also find in it the perfect medium for terrorism, bullying, pornography and every form of deception tat human mind can devise.

Are we so flawed, we humans? Do we suffer from a species-wide form of dissociative identity disorder that condemns us to perpetual expressions of our split personalities? Are we so dualistic in our collective psychology that we must forever fight within us a battle of good versus evil and find that the balance is so finely poised that we can tip so easily either way?

How easy it seems to be to give in to this gnawing, poisoning demand of evil upon our weak mind. When one reads the newspapers, watches television, listens to the radio, it seems that as a species we are becoming ever more likely to choose evil over good. Some of the news that I hear every day disappoint me more and more, and revulsion, horror, disgust, abhorrence and outrage overcome me. We seem to be more and more like the proverbial lemmings, stampeding towards the precipice that will seal our collective doom. It’s depressing stuff. Enough perhaps to drive some of us to suicide…

And yet, as humans we have redeeming qualities. We still create, we love, we can perform remarkable acts of self-sacrifice, heroism, altruism. We overcome adversity, we master our suffering and conquer disaster, transform tragedy into hope, defeat despair and transmute it into joy. The truly special human being is not the one to whom evil is unknown, not the one who lives like a hermit removed from the temptations of the world. The true hero is the one who battles the degeneration and vileness that lies within each one of us and has the strength to overpower them in order to do good, to be good, to resist following the easy path of depravity. To be able to choose to do battle in order to stay on course and follow the rocky, winding and steep path of integrity, dignity and virtue. Funny how we tend to hear those last three words less and less nowadays…

Cyber-bullying |ˈsībər-ˈboŏlē’i NG| noun
The use of information and communication technologies to support deliberate, repeated, and hostile behaviour by an individual or group, that is intended to harm others.
ORIGIN: From Greek kubernētēs ‘steersman,’ from kubernan ‘to steer’ and probably from Middle Dutch boele ‘lover’. The original usage was as a term of endearment applied to either sex; later becoming a familiar form of address to a male friend. The current sense dates from the late 17th century.

Jacqui BB hosts Word Thursday

SOLUTIONS IN THE END

“Sometimes, when one person is missing, the whole world seems depopulated.” – Alphonse de Lamartine

A poem that was written quite a few years ago and seemed at the time to presage an imminent finality, which really only heralded a new beginning. As Jean Giraudoux wisely observes: “Sadness flies on the wings of the morning and out of the heart of darkness comes the light.” But how slowly that dawn is in coming, and how the night tarries… How hopelessly lost hope seems and how easy it is to think that the only solution is the end?

Solutions in the End

Early morning, wan light creeping in through half-shut window,
Remembrance of the full-moonlight last night; your indifference;
The phone that refused to ring, refused to ring, refused to ring…
And above all the smell of bitter almonds, cyanide.

Your smile, how I read into it so much, so many hidden meanings…
But it’s really silent, inarticulate, mute – I imagined it all,
While a false hope stops me solving everything neatly, quickly, finally.
And the bitter taste, that pungent acridity of strychnine.

My thoughts, the rain, the tyranny of your relentless presence;
Even when absent, you’re by my side, with me.
My fantasy, a secret mythology - how endless, inexhaustible my patience…
And there, now, I feel the keen caress of sharp razor on my wrist.

Pleasure so dear, of its precious draught I tasted only a single drop,
Like a drop of water on parched lips of desert traveller lost in the sands;
Your oasis a cruel mirage, a simple illusion by physics explained.
And next to my ear, the deafening sound of a discharging pistol.

The endless night, the dawn that comes, comes, comes,
And never arrives; while in futility, I wait and wait and wait…
You never arrive, never beside me, never with me.
Yet death comes in a thousand guises,
He hurries, running to keep our appointment
Bringing with him, the end, solutions and redemption…

FOR PHILLIP

“The most authentic thing about us is our capacity to create, to overcome, to endure, to transform, to love and to be greater than our suffering.” – Ben Okri

The email message I received was short, to the point, almost business-like. I had to read its simple words several times in order for their import to sink in:

Hi Nick, I have some very sad news indeed. Phillip took his own life a couple of days ago. I'm going to the funeral this coming Saturday. I’m devastated. Just thought you would want to know…

This email from overseas, about one of our common friends. This is the sort of news that hits you in the gut and winds you. No easy way to break such news, no easy way to read it, cope with it, no easy way to live with it for the survivors close to the suicide. In the wake of such news one tries to rationalise the irrationality of the act. One tries to understand the incomprehensible. One attempts to forgive, to make excuses for, to deal with an act that leaves in its aftermath such intense pain and desolation.

Phillip was a middle-aged man, divorced for a couple of years now, with two grown-up children. He was a gentle, kind man, softly spoken. He worked with people with special needs and enjoyed his job. Since his divorce he withdrew into his shell and lived a solitary life, becoming depressed and difficult to engage with. His manner always polite, but his usually chatty humorous emails became shorter, mundane; written more as chore than as a means of communication. His mother died last year and this was another terrible blow, as he adored her. He had some counselling and seemed to finally come out of the dark place his life had become.

He visited Australia in the middle of last year. His smile was not forced, not disingenuous but distant. His eyes never seemed to smile. In retrospect the seeds of this, his last act, were already sown and we, perhaps, should have suspected something. It is so difficult not to feel guilt, so hard to dispel the complicity one senses in the wake of such an act.

He was grateful to his friends here during his visit, and his goodbyes when he left to go back home have become so much more significant now, in hindsight. A life cut short prematurely, a great waste, his pain too immense to be borne. How can one put oneself in Phillip’s position and replay his last thoughts? What jet-black despair could drive someone to commit this act of murder against oneself? Could it have been prevented? What could have been done? What a terrible waste!

Suicide was a criminal act in many countries in the past, it still is in a few. If it is considered thus, then one can understand the opinion of those who consider the suicide to be a coward. If we do not consider suicide a crime, then it may be argued to be the mark of a courageous and brave person who chooses this way to rid society of his perceived useless presence, and free himself from all feelings of suffering and peril. The religious person views suicide as the ultimate act of godlessness, the gravest sin, a mortal offence. The cleric’s prohibition may be enough to stay the hand of the devout, but a mind unhinged by weakness of faith, lack of purpose, great depression, dejection and despair will not be stopped by thoughts of God.

Phillip, I do not blame you, nor accuse you of a crime. You were neither brave nor a coward. You were sick with loneliness and despair, you found yourself in some deep dark alleyway with no exit and acted in a way that your tortured mind dictated as the only effective and permanent solution to some problem, that perhaps the choice of life would have proven to be temporary. I wish there had been some way to help you, I wish I had been closer, I wish you talked to me about it.

Vale, Phillip.
I hope that you are now in some happier place…

KARYOTAKIS - POETRY WEDNESDAY

“There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.” – Albert Camus

To An Old, Fellow-University Student

Friend, my heart has grown so old
Now that my life in Athens is over,
The same life, sweet, as when we partied,
And bitter, as when we starved.

It won’t be a homecoming, like it was in this place
In the celebrations of youth,
But rather I’ll be a visitor accompanying my hope,
A traveller with a dream that faded away.

I’ll stand like a pilgrim outside your house,
And they’ll tell me they know not where you’ve gone.
Another man will accompany your Aphrodite,
And strangers will now live in Irene’s house.

I’ll go to the Samian’s tavern
Where we used to drink, and I’ll ask for wine,
It will taste different, as you won’t be there,
But I’ll drink it anyway to get drunk.

I’ll go towards the Zappeion singing,
Staggering, just as we used to do together;
The plaza will be beautiful, the horizon broad,
But my song will be like a dirge.
Kostas Karyotakis (1896-1928)

Σε Παλιό Συμφοιτητή

Φίλε, η καρδιά μου τώρα σα να γέρασε
Τελειώσε η ζωή μου της Αθήνας,
Που όμοια γλυκά και με το γλέντι επέρασε,
Και με την πίκρα κάποτε της πείνας.

Δε θα ‘ρθω πια στον τόπο που πατρίδα μου
Τον έδωκε το γιόρτασμα της νιότης
Παρά περαστικός με την ελπίδα μου,
Με τ’ όνειρο που εσβήστει, ταξιδιώτης.

Προσκυνητής θα πάω κατά το σπίτι σου
Και θα μου πουν δεν ξέρουνε τι εγίνεις.
Μ’ άλλον μαζί θα ειδώ την Αφροδίτη σου
Κι άλλοι το σπίτι θα ‘χουν της Ειρήνης.

Θα πάω προς στην ταβέρνα, του Σαμιώτικου,
Που επίναμε για να ξαναζητήσω.
Θα λείπεις, το κρασί τους θα ΄ναι αλλιώτικο,
Όμως εγώ θα πιω και θα μεθύσω.

Θ΄ανέβω τραγουδώντας και τρεκλίζοντας
Στο Ζάππειο που ετραβούσαμεν αντάμα,
Τριγύρω θα ΄ναι ωραία, πλατύς ορίζοντας
Και θα ΄ναι το τραγούδι μου σαν κλάμα.
Κώστας Καρυωτάκης (1896-1928)

Kostas Karyotakis (1896-1928) is a Greek poet, one of the most important of the 1920s and amongst the first to write in a modernist style in Greece. There are rich images, often surrealistic, but always rich in expression and adorned by a sensitivity to nature and the emotions it arouses. He was not greatly thought of during his life, but after he committed suicide his poems came to the forefront and were critically acclaimed.

He was born in Tripoli but because his father was an engineer the family moved all over Greece, causing the child to become introspective and solitary. He got a law degree from the University of Athens and became a public servant in Thessaloniki. He disliked his work and loathed the very bureaucracy he was forced to uphold. In 1919 he published his first collection of poems, followed by two more collections in 1921 and 1927. Critics ignored or wrote bad reviews of these collections of fine poems.

In June 1928 he was transferred to the provincial town of Preveza. He wrote letters to friends and relatives describing his loneliness and desperation there. On the 20th of July he tried to drown in the sea for ten hours, but failed in his attempt. The following morning he purchased a gun and went to a little café. After a few hours, he went to a nearby beach and there, under a gum tree he shot himself through the heart.

More of his poems may be read here in English translation:




The poem above set to music by Lena Platonos is sung by Savina Yannatou.