ftlaudft
10-11-2010, 01:14 PM
We have an interesting thread going which asks whether it is correct to lust after the bodies or body parts of those who are no longer with us. Of those who have wandered off into the great beyond. Of those who have kicked the bucket.
It may be we feel squeamish about dead things because of our fear of death, our own innate sense of being mortal, our reluctance to accept the fact that we too must some day walk "'the misty broken road to Kanaloa,"' as the Hawaiians say. There are those who hang on to life with a vengeance, who simply won't let go even when their time is up. We call them ghosts and that's why we celebrate Halloween.
Halloween, All Hallows' Even, the last day of October, is actually the eve of All Saints' Day, the first day of November which is supposed to be a day of joy, solemn joy, but joy nonetheless, as we celebrate the triumphant entry of bright souls into a better world. November 2 is the rather dreary day of the dead, All Souls'' Day, a day on which some remember the spirits of those who may not have made it into greener pastures for whatever reason. But no matter. It's the somber mood of All Souls' Day which colors our cultural festivities of Halloween and we celebrate with color, humor and American Gothic fun.
This is a great time of year to remember our great American poet Edgar Allen Poe. If you have time to read only a short paragraph, do pick up a copy of "The Fall of the House of Usher"' and go through the opening lines. Read a few of his poems and you'll be reading some of the finest poetry written in this country by a poet in the ranks of Whitman and Allen Ginsberg.
For those with a philosophical bent I would suggest the recent masterpiece of John Shelby Spong, retired Episcopalian bishop of New Jersey. The title is "'Eternal Life: a new vision - Beyond religion; Beyond theism; Beyond heaven and hell."' Spong describes our time on earth here with present, past, and future, as relative time that exists within a moment of timelessness, in which we also are. When we cease to exist in relative time, that is, when we die, we continue to be in the moment of timelessness. Of course, the concept is hard to imagine in the human limits of language and imagination, but it will appeal to many. The Vatican and Canterbury are not very happy with Spong, I must report. But his ideas are helpful to many of us who no longer expect to hop out of coffins on Judgment Day.
My personal favorite poem about death is "The Moon"' by Edith Södergran, who wrote in Finland Swedish. These are the opening lines:
How wonderful and unspeakable
Is everything dead.
A dead leaf and a dead person
And the disc of the moon.
She ends the poem:
And the moon's sickle mows the flowers down
In late autumn nights.
And all the flowers wait for the moon's kiss
With endless longing.
Happy Halloween, people!
It may be we feel squeamish about dead things because of our fear of death, our own innate sense of being mortal, our reluctance to accept the fact that we too must some day walk "'the misty broken road to Kanaloa,"' as the Hawaiians say. There are those who hang on to life with a vengeance, who simply won't let go even when their time is up. We call them ghosts and that's why we celebrate Halloween.
Halloween, All Hallows' Even, the last day of October, is actually the eve of All Saints' Day, the first day of November which is supposed to be a day of joy, solemn joy, but joy nonetheless, as we celebrate the triumphant entry of bright souls into a better world. November 2 is the rather dreary day of the dead, All Souls'' Day, a day on which some remember the spirits of those who may not have made it into greener pastures for whatever reason. But no matter. It's the somber mood of All Souls' Day which colors our cultural festivities of Halloween and we celebrate with color, humor and American Gothic fun.
This is a great time of year to remember our great American poet Edgar Allen Poe. If you have time to read only a short paragraph, do pick up a copy of "The Fall of the House of Usher"' and go through the opening lines. Read a few of his poems and you'll be reading some of the finest poetry written in this country by a poet in the ranks of Whitman and Allen Ginsberg.
For those with a philosophical bent I would suggest the recent masterpiece of John Shelby Spong, retired Episcopalian bishop of New Jersey. The title is "'Eternal Life: a new vision - Beyond religion; Beyond theism; Beyond heaven and hell."' Spong describes our time on earth here with present, past, and future, as relative time that exists within a moment of timelessness, in which we also are. When we cease to exist in relative time, that is, when we die, we continue to be in the moment of timelessness. Of course, the concept is hard to imagine in the human limits of language and imagination, but it will appeal to many. The Vatican and Canterbury are not very happy with Spong, I must report. But his ideas are helpful to many of us who no longer expect to hop out of coffins on Judgment Day.
My personal favorite poem about death is "The Moon"' by Edith Södergran, who wrote in Finland Swedish. These are the opening lines:
How wonderful and unspeakable
Is everything dead.
A dead leaf and a dead person
And the disc of the moon.
She ends the poem:
And the moon's sickle mows the flowers down
In late autumn nights.
And all the flowers wait for the moon's kiss
With endless longing.
Happy Halloween, people!