There’s a Certain Slant of Light – Emily Dickinson
“There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –”
In the beginning of my blog’s existence, I was entranced by the “certain slant of light” Emily Dickinson wrote about in the first stanza, but ignored the rest of the poem. Bad English Major, I know, but I loved how sometimes the sun shown perfectly on people’s faces. I fancied that it showed me their souls. Now, a social worker and a therapist, I’m starting to see this poem differently.
I’m struck by the word “oppresses” that is not capitalized, but drags the stanza down so much it might as well be the only word. I’m struck by how oppressive the music of the cathedral is, as if it hears the news reports of today from the 19th century and is weighed down by the sorrow.
“Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –”
The people I serve are often seen as different from each other, certainly, but mostly from society. I’m too familiar with the looks from “normal” cognitively functioning people when they see my clients. What these looks don’t see, however, is the enormous scars that some of them carry internally. I don’t think these scars rendered by oppression from family, social systems and/or grief and loss are “Heavenly Hurts” by any means as they were not meant by any god to be hurt, but to be loved.
Despite that, I am blown away by the resilience and the caring that I see in my client’s, their families, and others who care about them. Some of my clients are not shown healthy ways to care, but yet do. I am grateful every day to know them, even though some of those days might be harder than others.
“None may teach it – Any –
‘Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –”
The older I get and the more people I serve, the more I realize life is full of death and loss. From a young age, we learn about death, maybe from someone leaving us forever or maybe from a movie or maybe from an event like 9/11, a school shooting… I may not know Emily Dickinson’s intent when she capitalized “Despair,” but it seems to me that Despair is sadness caused by our grief that continues to seep through our bones, our sleep, and the very air we breathe. And still the older I get, the more amazed I am that humans are not only beings of sadness, but of joy. How does it happen?
“When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –”
Perhaps the secret is held in the land. Each rock, each mountain, each ancient tree has endured years of bad weather and abuse from those who are supposed to be their guardians and still stand. They may not express emotions like us, but they triumphantly, perhaps joyfully, gaze at the sky. They know more about death than us, but go peacefully into the unknown, which we avoid to the best of our abilities. I’m thinking I can learn a lot from nature about how to approach life. But I don’t want to be a recluse (despite like Emily Dickinson); I guess I’ll stick to being a people person who likes nature.
3 items of gratitude:
1. the Earth
2. new connections
3. the use of my hands