This is the final lesson in my “Surgical Lessons” series. During the last three weeks of my recovery, I was able to concentrate enough to read, read, read . . . and came across much wisdom that both convicted and inspired me. Perhaps you’ll be convicted and inspired, too.
Surprisingly, none of the books I returned to were about the Holocaust (my go-to topic after poetry); however, a couple reminded me that atrocities are not bound by time or place.
When Russia started the full-scale war against Ukraine on February 24, 2022, Victoria Amelia [book on right] was busy writing a novel, taking part in the country’s literary scene, and parenting her son. Suddenly she became someone new: a war crimes researcher and the chronicler of extraordinary women like herself who were joining the resistance. She compiled their stories, but was unable to finish. On July 1, 2023, Amelina died from injuries sustained by a Russian missile attack. She was 37 years old.
On Memorial Day, 2019, Geraldine Brooks received news that her husband, Tony Horwitz, had collapsed and died, far from home, in the middle of his own book tour. Three years later, still feeling broken and bereft, she booked a flight to a remote island off the coast of Tasmania. There she had the time and space she needed for her own grief. She writes: “I wish for the bereaved some time and space, however, long, however short, for melancholy — what Victor Hugo described as the happiness of being sad.”
Last, my beloved friend, Judy, sent me this excerpt from a March 14 Steven Charleston meditation which I copied into my journal:
“When the dark days come, and they always do, you will not be alone, but surrounded by light messengers, who pass tirelessly between Earth and Heaven. You are part of a labor force, both vast and varied, who work to restore balance to creation. Listen and you will hear their wings.”
That excerpt from the meditation is so very beautiful. I’m going to keep it.
I love you so much.
It is beautiful, isn’t it, Neola? Whether I’m at the Fitness Center, grocery store or my beloved farmlands, those light messengers are around me and they are around you. Much love back to you. ❤️🙏
My sweet neighbor, Greg, who keeps me supplied with gummy bears, gifted me the Refaat Alareer collection. His father is a former member of the PLO so Greg is particularly astute about Palestinian issues. It was an unexpected gift. One night we were chatting and I shared how much I liked poetry. He asked me if I had ever heard of Alareer; two days later, the book was on my doorstep.
An excerpt from Looking at Women Looking at War by Victoria Amelina — a chapter entitled, “My February 24”:
“I guess when the world ends, some people cry, some scream, some go silent, some sweat, and others recite poems. To be honest, I swear a lot too. Over time, I will learn to laugh a lot again. The end of the world isn’t as quick as everyone imagines; there’s time to learn. Yet there are no instructions.”
Thank you for sharing these lessons, which are solid inspiration for recovery, but also so much more. Victoria Amelina wrote, “Over time, I will learn to laugh a lot again.” Only she didn’t get that time. She left us to carry on and do it for her.
Thank YOU, Beth, for appreciating these lessons. Have to tell ya, that Victoria Amelina reminded me a lot of you — she was so fueled and driven to give voice to women who would not be heard otherwise. That’s what you do with your commitment to gun reform, immigrant support, etc., etc., etc. If something or someone needs an advocate, there you are. Also, you have the best laugh and are, without a doubt, a “light messenger.” Thank you. xoxo
How wonderfully wise of you to choose such profoundly moving reads in your healing time. No escapist, you! As always, you surround yourself with wise observers and survivors of great difficulty and add them to the light messengers of your life. And now you have added them to our lives, whether we ever get to reading them or not. Thank you.
You are so welcome and so loved, Carol. xoxo