Hello friends—I’ve been setting aside the past week or so to focus on submitting poems to journals, which always takes more time than I ever seem to anticipate. So I thought as I finish this burst of submittals for the time being, that I’d share another essay I wrote from the archive for this week (and with an attempt at audio! with background dog sounds no less!)
You are a gift, my friend. I loved, loved the voice over (as well as the pup walking IN the background you can slightly pick up from time to time! We love pup symphonies!)
"The women committed them to memory, to share with others." Women witnessing women, always, at every point in history. It is so beautiful and so heartbreaking, just like this piece. Thank you for your words.
The alert attention to the unconscious is way closer to my sense of vitality, universal charge and magic. Really interesting piece, Freya. Spirituality over religious dogma any day. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you, Freya. Your writing is always a favourite oasis, abundant with gifts, on this turbulent journey. May your willingness to bear witness constantly, allow you, always, to experience the beauty and the magic that is present in all things.
"... what we collectively feel these past years—watching so many almost-apocalypses—is the burden of overwitness. We are overwitnessing."
This resonates so much. We are bearing witness to so much suffering around us and in our own near future. We are asked to speak for those with no voice and for a future whose voice is not yet born. Thank you for elevating the suffering of these women who bore witness to their own suffering. And for the example of the persimmon tree.
‘because it seems I can’t escape Dickinson’s powerful eternal ghost’ - I feel so much of this Freya. Dickinson’s spectre beckons every now and then, obliging one to pay attention.
I pray that the world too like the persimmon waits in the dark wombs of the time ready to sprout out into the life of recollection of words and stories that matter. May we endure. Thank you so much for all of this dear Freya. I see you. 🧚🏽♀️💜🔥
This is full of such beautiful reflections and wonderful poetry!
The persimmons here in Japan are usually harvested in October or November, but on some of the trees in gardens in my neighbouthood the fruit are left to hang. They shine better than any Christmas decoration through the midwinter.
I still cannot get over -- ever it seems -- what Tsvetaeva endured in her life, and the drive she had to continue to write such burning poetry. I think that's part of why I like Elif Shafak's newsletter so much: she constantly nudges into that burning hole (the fireburned heart as Swarnali puts it, so apt) that those of us who've never lived directly in such worlds can too easily forget is always there.
And here I am, looking at a garden that is shockingly and suddenly almost snow-free and thinking of the hurry I need to get in for the food that needs to feed several families this coming year ... thinking of your persimmon!
Hola , Muy Cerca De La Ciudad De Valencia , En Los Pueblos De Alrededor Están Llenos De Caquis , Mis Padres Tienen Varios De Estos Árboles En Casa. Un Saludo.
Thank you for reading this one — it’s so lovely to hear it in your voice!
beautiful and thought provoking, as always <3
You are a gift, my friend. I loved, loved the voice over (as well as the pup walking IN the background you can slightly pick up from time to time! We love pup symphonies!)
"The women committed them to memory, to share with others." Women witnessing women, always, at every point in history. It is so beautiful and so heartbreaking, just like this piece. Thank you for your words.
The alert attention to the unconscious is way closer to my sense of vitality, universal charge and magic. Really interesting piece, Freya. Spirituality over religious dogma any day. Thanks for sharing.
“An attention oriented towards the vicinity of others.” Thank you Freya. I loved hearing you read it too.
Beautiful, thank you! 🤗 🌳💖
Thank you, Freya. Your writing is always a favourite oasis, abundant with gifts, on this turbulent journey. May your willingness to bear witness constantly, allow you, always, to experience the beauty and the magic that is present in all things.
"... what we collectively feel these past years—watching so many almost-apocalypses—is the burden of overwitness. We are overwitnessing."
This resonates so much. We are bearing witness to so much suffering around us and in our own near future. We are asked to speak for those with no voice and for a future whose voice is not yet born. Thank you for elevating the suffering of these women who bore witness to their own suffering. And for the example of the persimmon tree.
‘because it seems I can’t escape Dickinson’s powerful eternal ghost’ - I feel so much of this Freya. Dickinson’s spectre beckons every now and then, obliging one to pay attention.
I pray that the world too like the persimmon waits in the dark wombs of the time ready to sprout out into the life of recollection of words and stories that matter. May we endure. Thank you so much for all of this dear Freya. I see you. 🧚🏽♀️💜🔥
This is full of such beautiful reflections and wonderful poetry!
The persimmons here in Japan are usually harvested in October or November, but on some of the trees in gardens in my neighbouthood the fruit are left to hang. They shine better than any Christmas decoration through the midwinter.
I still cannot get over -- ever it seems -- what Tsvetaeva endured in her life, and the drive she had to continue to write such burning poetry. I think that's part of why I like Elif Shafak's newsletter so much: she constantly nudges into that burning hole (the fireburned heart as Swarnali puts it, so apt) that those of us who've never lived directly in such worlds can too easily forget is always there.
And here I am, looking at a garden that is shockingly and suddenly almost snow-free and thinking of the hurry I need to get in for the food that needs to feed several families this coming year ... thinking of your persimmon!
Hola , Muy Cerca De La Ciudad De Valencia , En Los Pueblos De Alrededor Están Llenos De Caquis , Mis Padres Tienen Varios De Estos Árboles En Casa. Un Saludo.