Literally, and figuratively. Gone with life and school and events for The Book but also gone with the same kind of vague malaise that came over me last fall. Living in Southern California, I forget that my East Coast body is wired for fall to be a time of restlessness and ennui, and that I am meant somehow to be walking paths covered in fallen leaves, thinking about the previous year, the winter to come, the spring ahead of that. I’ve always felt a kind of synchronicity with the Jewish High Holy days traditions of taking stock in the fall, and making atonement.
I received a lovely note a while back from a reader and now friend, who told me he’d made it his “mitzvah” this fall to take up a challenge I’d posed to put Evan’s pretty face inside an Om, and who sent me this:
Which pretty much felt like a blessing to me in my ennui. Thank you, Bruce.
A few days ago, my funk seemed to lift and I no longer experienced every last corner of my life as a sad memory of my son. Then Josie and I saw Where The Wild Things Are, and, as we sobbed our way through the movie, I remembered that grief and loss are not avoidable, that they are part of my fabric, and the very fabric of the world. For those of you unfamiliar with the film, it is indeed an adaptation of the Maurice Sendak book, but it is also so much more: a diving into rage, and the dark parts of ourselves, and why we let others down, selfishly, sometimes without remorse. These are not pretty tales, and we need monsters and children to help us tell them, but every once in a while, and not that often, a book or movie reaches some deep, totemic place where some parts of our true nature reside, and this is a movie that does that. Just when you think you can’t bear another moment of pain or suffering, one of the Wild Things lets a very small expression of joy and love come over its very large face, and in that moment, you feel relief. Max will learn to let go of his anger, the Wild Things will remember how to love each other, they won’t kill yet another king. They’ll go back to sleeping in piles and their games of “war” will only be in jest.
Comments 14
xo~~~
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 7:16 am ¶Hugs to you. The Om is exquisite.
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 8:02 am ¶A very thoughtful post, Vicki. Thank you for coming back.
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 8:12 am ¶The day I first viewed this Om,sans Evan’s beautiful face,I was drawn to it and the words that preceded it and I brought my friend here,who in her new grieving,I hope she found just that,hope.Today,the magic of photoshop,placed your boy just where he should be.Although I truly saw his face there, even before it actually was there.
Your words today had eerily perfect timing for me.Thank you.
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 8:14 am ¶I’m glad that you’re back, and I felt the same way about the movie. I saw it with one of my sons and we both loved it. I wondered whether it had the same effect on him (don’t think so) but it probably reached him in one of those primitive places.
The Om photo of Evan is remarkable — I don’t think I’ll ever forget what that looks like inside of me…
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 8:32 am ¶What a beautiful Om.
love.
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 8:45 am ¶Here. Just here.
Diet coke??
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 8:45 am ¶A beautiful post… and a beautiful Om indeed.
I will crunch through the Fall leaves for you. I have plenty to spare
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 1:01 pm ¶Sending lots of love…
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 2:36 pm ¶“These are not pretty tales, and we need monsters and children to help us tell them…” Do you know the feeling when a writer puts into words something you weren’t even aware you were having trouble articulating? These words did that for me. Thanks yet again, Vicki. Liz
Posted 06 Nov 2009 at 4:49 pm ¶Vicki, when I walk the dog this afternoon and I walk on my path through all the leafs in our nearby forrest, I`ll take you with me…
wow, your post about the wild things was, as well for me, just in time. Again, I am allowed to take something with me from my visit at yours.
Thanks, for everything.
Posted 07 Nov 2009 at 5:39 am ¶xo Claudia
I’m glad I hadn’t read this yet when I was writing my column on WTWTA because you put it so beautifully, I wouldn’t have been able to find my own words!
Easy travels to you, my friend. I hope it’s a wonderful, inspiring trip.
Posted 08 Nov 2009 at 7:33 pm ¶You know, Vicki, I think you’re amazing. Just really a wonderful, extraordinary person. Thank you.
Posted 11 Nov 2009 at 11:05 am ¶Thank you for sharing that beautiful picture of Evan; I just read his story, your story, Ellie’s story and was so touched; I couldn’t put it down. He is as beautiful as I imagined and with such a happy smiling face.
Posted 24 Nov 2009 at 2:47 pm ¶Post a Comment