Nothing’s sexier than a good vocabulary, so let’s get hot? At the very least, let’s learn a new word.
Today, I used the very scientific method of flipping to a random page in the “Dictionary of the Strange, Curious & Lovely”, by Robin Devoe and closing my eyes to point to a word. That word, was obtenebrate. To which my brain and tongue had to slow down and work together for a few seconds. Tongue to back of teeth, lips puffing. It feels like a word that would provide the hearty mouthfeel for spoken poetry. And it rhymes with other gems like, confiscate, innumerate, postulate, adulterate, articulate…and now I’ll probably be working on a poem later.
It’s a fun word to say. But the meaning, hit a little too close to the heart, particularly this week.
Obtenebrate: To darken or make dark; to enshadow a thing; to obscure.
The word itself, comes from the late Latin obtenebratus, past participle of obtenebrare to darken, from Latin ob- to, toward, over + tenebrare to darken, from tenebrae darkness, and also shares roots with the Portuguese trevas (darkness or gloom).
And whereas there are a lot of different directions towards gloominess I could take this post today, (aren’t we living in a space and time where a malevolent shadow in a bad spray tan is constantly covering us?) I want to talk about it in terms of ourselves. Our own psyches and perceptions of the world. Beyond the simplifications of being classified as an optimist or a pessimist, I’ve noticed, particularly in the case of a dear friend, the uncanny ability of the mind to obtenebrate itself.
But why does it do this? Why do we do this? This dance with darkness that quickly spirals into an ocean of shadows too deep to keep our heads up?
During a weekly Buddhist gathering, we talked about the concept of being entwined without becoming entangled. To be present without absorbing. To always come back to one’s self, in a world that is constantly pulling us and scarring us with traumatic happenings. All of which, by the way, add up in our physical bodies and in our reactions and fears towards others. From childhood and the father who was abusive, through college and the professor who said we’d never be a writer, to the poor reviews or rejections of lovers…the body remembers, the mind tries to protect. And in doing so, both become entangled. Gnarled roots take hold, darkness shadows over our thoughts, clouding our vision and perception of the world. Until we no longer remember what a bright day looks like. This darkening is cyclical. It feeds on itself, growing larger, and expanding over more and more. Our memories, our achievements, our hopes…the people who love us.
It feels like “the Nothing” from Neverending Story, a bit, doesn’t it?
And to watch it happening to someone you love (or even yourself if you have that kind of self-awareness) is a frightening thing indeed. Because shadows don’t listen to reason. Darkness is too accustom to swallowing light, to pause and ask if it belongs there. Where there are scars, the obtenebration plants seeds. Grows more darkness. Until it can feel like there isn’t much warmth or light worth sticking around for.
And I’m not smart enough to offer solutions. Because the undeniable truth of our own birth and death means that the constant state of existence is one of entropy. And if the shadows are dark enough, perhaps you can only see the decay, the breakdown, the demise. Maybe you don’t yet understand that the breakdown often happens to feed something deeper, brighter that will cycle back around out of the shadows. Maybe we have, for too long, overcomplicated our own wounds, become entangled by them, and forget that we are the only ones capable of hacking through the briar patch of shadows. Maybe we don’t think there’s a reason to bother.
Look, I only have forty some years of experience, but what I do know, from nature, and from my own cycles of loss, and suffering, is that shadows and clouds, night, and darkness, all come through, and then…eventually they are broken apart and carried away by the light, the wind, and the dawn. Yes they come back. Because the only truth of life is change. But instead of running to stay beneath the shadows of those dark clouds, perhaps we can sit still. Come back to ourselves. Shine our own light on these wounds, these entanglements. Work to understand them and, this is the important part, find a way to love and accept. So that maybe the next time the world obtenebrates our lives, we are not allowing it to entangle us.
Take care of yourself. Accept the shadows that come, but don’t invite them to stay. It’s a waste of your one, precious life.
Found
when they find me
i will be alone
the questions and headshakes
directed in quizzical depths
to the loam and silt they cannot sort through
no reasoning to be caught
in bucket or screen
when they find me
dressed as animals are
in the skin i was in
the day i roared into the plain
i will shock in cold white
filled with trout breath
and minnow kisses
When they find me
broken shell
battered
lovely in purple and blue
head struck rock
knee scraped branches
lips in shades to make
mountain bluebell envious
they will lament
such wasted splendor
when they find me
the questions of why
i was lost to the brine
a jointer to the self-takers before me
whispers will static the air
of all the ways i failed
and too long loitered in futility
when they find me
they will burn the empty package
while I sneak,
soul-snake in water
down river bends to the sea
never to be found again
This Isn't a Poem for You
So this isn’t a poem for the broken hearted
it is not for those who were left behind
or ghosted
or dumped
or abused
or disregarded
This is a poem for those who watched
as another soul walked away
sat in their silence
was released from another person’s life
faced pain at their hands
or were simply ignored
into nothingness…
You are the warriors of time
you, who have felt the sting
of heart break
and disappointments
you are the carriers of grief
and the bodies made of scars
and you have lived through
every burning cut
and every lonely night
This is not for the soul they broke,
this is for the you that survived.
This is not a sermon from some high tower
that you are stronger for it
that you are braver because of it
that you are a better person
a heart bigger,
with these new and ragged cracks
to let the light in
I will only tell you what I know
You survived.
you packed up your heart and your mind
and you moved on
you accepted their silence
you treated your wounds and closed the door
you started paying attention to yourself
when they no longer did
and that carries weight
self determination
and the ability to move past
the fickle and soft-seated lies,
of a love always perched to flee
the very second things got hard
Your feet remain grounded
and you outlasted
You heart is a seasoned warrior
and it may never let another in
but it doesn’t have space anyway
because in their absence
beyond the echoes of their abuse
the pain of their mistreatment,
you’ve filled your heart
with the unfaltering love
of yourself
they can’t ever move back in
there isn’t room any more.
