She studied philosophy, journalism, philology, painting, history of religion and French literature. Her last verses were I want to go/nowhere if not/down into the depths.
A few nights ago, while scrolling to compensate for my unmet need for deep, adult conversation at the end of the day, I came across a portrait of Alejandra Pizarnik, an Argentinian poet and translator.
I immediately stopped scrolling.
I mean, how could I not? Can you see those eyes?
My heart is overflowing with love for the depth of this soul.
Then, as I was walking one night around 10 pm, enjoying the solitude, she came to me. And I had to record my thoughts. They felt meaningful.
Here’s the raw, spontaneous, unedited recording, complete with my heavy breathing and the noise of my footsteps (2’55’’).
And here’s the transcript:
So many women poets end their lives early.
Is it that they feel too much, in a world that feels too little?
I mourned for this woman, a poet, an Australian I believe.
I read some of her poems and I looked at her face in a photo. It was a black and white photo.
And I could see the depth in her eyes. Surrounded by such shallowness of the world, her eyes felt like an abyss. I could feel the intensity of her feeling.
Can we learn to hold such depth and intensity?
Can we learn to not fear it?
Can we learn to stop abandoning ourselves, to stop betraying ourselves?
And can we be in touch,
We, who feel so much?
Can we be
In each other’s company?
Can we check in from time to time?
Can we offer a seat at the table, a couch, a shoulder, a hug?
Can we do that
Without the fear of collapsing in each other’s presence?
Without the fear of overwhelm?
Can we learn to hold ourselves and one another,
So that women poets who feel so much
And write so beautifully
Continue to do so?
So that they live.
So that they get to see the journey of their lives.
Can we do that?
Can we read
Each other’s words,
Each other’s eyes
The depth of feeling -
Can we do that?
In times of radical change, we might struggle with depression.
Especially if we are unmet, if we are not received, if no one is there to hold our hand, as we cross threshold after threshold. If no one is there to witness us, to see into the depths of our soul and to love both the light and the darkness that’s there.
Because it’s all part of our story, of our personal poetry collection. Our chef-d'œuvre, our life - the way our soul chooses to expand.
We need community.
If there’s anything that I would do differently in my life journey, it is cultivating community much, much earlier, ideally before even having my children.
I did everything on my own. For years.
Now I want to ask for so much help, that it makes me blush while doing it. Now I don’t want to do any work alone anymore. Now I choose to be surrounded by kindred spirits, every step of the journey.
Because I choose to be.
I choose to live.
I choose to be met.
I choose to be received.
I choose to be seen.
I choose to thrive.
And that, for me, is stepping out of victim consciousness and out of martyrdom.
This is me, healing my Chironic wound.
THE WORD THAT HEALS, by Alejandra Pizarnik
While waiting for a world to be unearthed by language, someone
is singing about the place where silence is formed. Later it’ll be
shown that just because it displays its fury doesn’t mean the sea—or
the world—exists. In the same way, each word says what it says—and
beyond that, something more and something else.
She committed suicide at 36, while being hospitalised with serious depression.
What do you choose for yourself?
In what areas of your life can you ask for (more) help?
How can you be (more) in community in your day to day life?
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