Tuesday 8 February 2011

To boldly go... Part Deux

Last month I posted some thoughts about the 'potential' of grief (To boldly go where no man has gone before - 4th January). There's probably a way of linking that so you can just click on it, but I am a techno dullard. Sorry...  In this posting I said "By potential I mean a chance for us to go so deep within ourselves that, in spite of re-emerging from our grief cocoon bruised, battered and alone, we are also given an opportunity to see life with new eyes". 
Well, this weekend I was watching the excellent new TV series 'Faulks on Fiction', with author Sebastian Faulks feeding us delicious literary morsels about fictional heroes. During a discussion about Robinson Crusoe, and the struggles he faced with isolation and loneliness, Faulks interviewed former-hostage Brian Keenan, who said: "You have to have it all stripped away to get to whatever is left – your pure essence. And you drink very deeply of that pure essence. It can make you drunk... but it gets you back to yourself, and maybe even a better person than when you arrived at that desolate foreshore". I thought that was beautifully put. And he, of course, would know. Brave man...
I also heard an interview on Radio 2's Jeremy Vine show last week where a father who lost his son described his grief as being "a tsunami of the soul". That's a powerful statement, isn't it? I had to stop what I was doing for a minute when I heard that. 
I do try, on this little blog of mine, to have a go at describing the sometimes indescribable. So I just wanted to share these quotes with you as an example of what happens when someone really does find the right words! 

7 comments:

  1. This is a very, very interesting train of thought, CB. Yes, those times when what's going on inside is all-subsuming -- and what results when you spend all that time with yourself. Something like that, anyway.

    I can't think of another good example off the top of my earlymorning head. But I recall Brian Keenan telling of how he flew to Belfast some years ago and hailed a taxi at the airport. After some miles the driver turned to him and said, "Shouldn't you be in the boot?" Humour doesn't often come so dark!

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  2. Thanks Charles. Dark humour, indeed. I'd like to know what Brian Keenan's reaction was to that!

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  3. Wow great post Miss Comfy."Tsunami of the soul", that certainly helps you understand what someone is feeling at such a sad time. I love what Charles said about dark humour as I am always struck by how I automatically flick to humour at times of great sadness. I feel embarrassed that I can't stop it and worry that I come across uncaring and fickle but to see the funny side feels instinctive almost primal. My need to be humorous on such occasions isn't selfish (at least I don't think it is) I think it's about wanting to help and comfort someone, to see them smile and know that someone cares about them. Sx

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  4. That's a lovely, honest comment S. There's certainly nothing selfish about someone whose motives are based on wanting to help and comfort someone. Quite the opposite, in fact. You're not making light of the situation, you're just trying to lighten the load. Which is only to be applauded. x

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  5. That's a perfect way of putting it "lightening the load" I like that because that is exactly what you want to do when you are offering support. You are so good with words CB. Sx

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  6. Ah, that's most generous. But you, Ms Ric-Rac, are the mistress of beautiful images.
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