As so often happens Philip you write about a topic that is on my mind .
As I see it health events, aging realities and the profound ache of losing friends who were kindred spirits presents us with a challenge.
The challenge of finding joy even though sadness is increasingly weaving its way into our emotional quilt. And just as importantly accepting that some days we will not meet that challenge.
A friend of mine, nearly as old as I am (and I am nearly as old as Philip is), said his group starts meetings with an 'organ recital', strictly limited to 10 minutes: 'oh, my heart', 'I have this ache in my back','I can't breathe as deeply as I used to do','my digestion is acting up'.... Then no more such talk for the rest of the meeting!
It's taken a while for me to respond to your last posting. As a deeply introverted person, I need time to think about and dwell in the words of others before I know how and what I feel. I get the sense that you are loved by others, but it's not always sufficient. I appreciate your thoughtful posts. Considering your legal career and the demand that must have made on your intellect, it's refreshing to read your sensitive posts about your feelings. Please continue.
I believe melancholy is embedded in one’s essence, one’s very quiddity. Emily Dickinson wrote:,”And something’s odd - within/That person that I was - /And this one - do not feel the same/Could it be madness, this?”
Melancholy in aging is a “fine madness”, not lunacy or psychosis but anger bent inward bringing highly-honed sensibilities & clarity of sight & sound. It is an ally of creativity. Aristotle wrote: “Why is it that all men who are outstanding in philosophy, poetry or the arts are melancholic?”
Socrates said: “Madness comes from god, whereas sober sense is merely human.” The “madness” of melancholy in aging is that the psyche moves into another realm of consciousness… not abnormal because we all dwell in normalcy, dailiness. More, it’s about living with a pervasive intensity of awareness, a raw affect.
Melancholy in aging is about grappling with the enormous, persistent invasion of loss. It is the opposite of gladness. Rather it is about “a backward glance”, an acute recognition of things that will never be again & a vision of the end.
I’m twelve years younger than you but I feel much the same way. I lived through a time of promise and have fought for social change, against war, and for the environment. Forty plus years later and it feels like it was all for nothing. And worse still, those of us who fought are blamed for the state of the world. So, yes, I am melancholic. My health and energy are declining, and I have nothing left to give. And what I do have to give isn’t appreciated, anyway.
As someone who is generally upbeat and optimistic but suffers from melancholy on occasion, I can relate. While your friends and loved ones may want to cheer you up, sometimes it is good to accept and feel your feelings. Not all friends are always good at supporting us when we're low but that's okay too. Perhaps their own joy is fleeting and tenuous, or they don't have the strength to help you with your heavy emotions. Or they love you too much to watch you suffer. You can either seek comfort elsewhere, or in yourself. I find writing how I feel helps. Which you just did: bravo!
Edvard Munch, Edward Hopper
As so often happens Philip you write about a topic that is on my mind .
As I see it health events, aging realities and the profound ache of losing friends who were kindred spirits presents us with a challenge.
The challenge of finding joy even though sadness is increasingly weaving its way into our emotional quilt. And just as importantly accepting that some days we will not meet that challenge.
As we age life narrows.Talk of your ailments limits the scope of conversation.It becomes the locomotive of what should be a gentle diversion.
Remember this please you are a lovely engaging personality,fun to be with.You write beautifully.
A friend of mine, nearly as old as I am (and I am nearly as old as Philip is), said his group starts meetings with an 'organ recital', strictly limited to 10 minutes: 'oh, my heart', 'I have this ache in my back','I can't breathe as deeply as I used to do','my digestion is acting up'.... Then no more such talk for the rest of the meeting!
It's taken a while for me to respond to your last posting. As a deeply introverted person, I need time to think about and dwell in the words of others before I know how and what I feel. I get the sense that you are loved by others, but it's not always sufficient. I appreciate your thoughtful posts. Considering your legal career and the demand that must have made on your intellect, it's refreshing to read your sensitive posts about your feelings. Please continue.
I believe melancholy is embedded in one’s essence, one’s very quiddity. Emily Dickinson wrote:,”And something’s odd - within/That person that I was - /And this one - do not feel the same/Could it be madness, this?”
Melancholy in aging is a “fine madness”, not lunacy or psychosis but anger bent inward bringing highly-honed sensibilities & clarity of sight & sound. It is an ally of creativity. Aristotle wrote: “Why is it that all men who are outstanding in philosophy, poetry or the arts are melancholic?”
Socrates said: “Madness comes from god, whereas sober sense is merely human.” The “madness” of melancholy in aging is that the psyche moves into another realm of consciousness… not abnormal because we all dwell in normalcy, dailiness. More, it’s about living with a pervasive intensity of awareness, a raw affect.
Melancholy in aging is about grappling with the enormous, persistent invasion of loss. It is the opposite of gladness. Rather it is about “a backward glance”, an acute recognition of things that will never be again & a vision of the end.
Eve McBride
Who are the artists?
I’m twelve years younger than you but I feel much the same way. I lived through a time of promise and have fought for social change, against war, and for the environment. Forty plus years later and it feels like it was all for nothing. And worse still, those of us who fought are blamed for the state of the world. So, yes, I am melancholic. My health and energy are declining, and I have nothing left to give. And what I do have to give isn’t appreciated, anyway.
As someone who is generally upbeat and optimistic but suffers from melancholy on occasion, I can relate. While your friends and loved ones may want to cheer you up, sometimes it is good to accept and feel your feelings. Not all friends are always good at supporting us when we're low but that's okay too. Perhaps their own joy is fleeting and tenuous, or they don't have the strength to help you with your heavy emotions. Or they love you too much to watch you suffer. You can either seek comfort elsewhere, or in yourself. I find writing how I feel helps. Which you just did: bravo!