The Boundaries which Divide Life from Death
The Boundaries which Divide Life from Death
Issue #23
Words of Wisdom by Edgar Allan Poe
"Believe nothing you hear, and only one half that you see."
"That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful."
"Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears."
"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?"
1. Appreciating the Beauty of Imperfection
Wabi-sabi is the Japanese aesthetic of appreciating beauty that is 'imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete' in nature.
Characteristics of wabi-sabi aesthetics and principles include asymmetry, roughness, simplicity, austerity, modesty, and appreciation of both natural objects and the forces of nature.
The words wabi and sabi do not translate directly into English; wabi originally referred to the loneliness of living in nature, remote from society; sabi meant 'lean' or 'withered'. Around the 14th century, these meanings began to change, taking on more lighthearted and hopeful connotations.
Leonard Koren (born 1948) is an American artist, aesthetics expert and writer. He wrote a very insightful book about wabi-sabi called 'Wabi-Sabi: For Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers'.
He said, "Truth comes from the observation of nature. All things are impermanent. All things are imperfect. All things are incomplete... greatness exists in the inconspicuous and overlooked details... the minor and the hidden, the tentative and the ephemeral..."
“Get rid of all that is unnecessary. Wabi-sabi means treading lightly on the planet and knowing how to appreciate whatever is encountered, no matter how trifling, whenever it is encountered."
"In other words, wabi-sabi tells us to stop our preoccupation with success - wealth, status, power, and luxury - and enjoy the unencumbered life. Obviously, leading the simple wabi-sabi life requires some effort and will, and also some tough decisions."
"Even at the most austere level of material existence, we still live in a world of things. Wabi-sabi is exactly about the delicate balance between the pleasure we get from things and the pleasure we get from the freedom of things.”
2. The Recluse's Cottage
Harold's story is fascinating. He was born in 1836 and moved into the cottage in 1864, where he still lives today - 158 years later - at the grand old age of 186.
I am alone, but I am not lonely; these are two very different things. I favour a peaceful solitary life. There is no time, there are no clocks. My alarm clock in the morning is the dawn chorus.
I live in tune with the cycle of the seasons in my cottage by the sea. In the winter, I mostly hibernate, sitting by the fireside reading.
On the longer warmer days, I love tending to my garden, small orchard and vegetable patch. I like to see the animals and birds living their lives. It's the elementary things that put a smile to my face.
Once a day, I take the zigzag path behind the cottage to the windswept clifftop to greet the sea. Here I contemplate life and feel the beauty and light of the world, but it's tinged with great sadness.
I love to care for the flowers in my garden, with the Annabelle rose, named after my late wife, my favourite.
It was when Annabelle passed away - many many years ago - that I couldn't face the world and became the recluse I am today. I still see her in the shadows and feel her presence around me. I live for the simple pleasure of seeing these glimpses to the other side, of being close to nature, and the sweet memories that will never be forgotten...
Let me explain. Harold moved into the cottage with his beloved wife Annabelle in 1864. She sadly died with tuberculosis a few years later. From that moment, he lived alone, a recluse from the world. Happy in his thoughts and memories, and cocooned in his own bubble.
When he passed in his sleep at the age of 92, he had no idea he had died and continued to live in the cottage, perfectly happy with the changing seasons.
If you visit the cottage today, you can feel his warm presence there, not cold like you may expect. He has been glimpsed in the garden tending to his flowers, and on the clifftop his silhouette has been seen looking out to sea with his arms stretched out wide.
Except for the ghost of Harold, the cottage is now sadly empty. But magically, the garden remains tenderly cared for, and every year the Annabelle roses bloom into life...
I would love to buy and live in this house. Would you?
3. Haunted Houses
By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)
All houses wherein men have lived and died Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide, With feet that make no sound upon the floors. We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable impressions on the air, A sense of something moving to and fro. There are more guests at table than the hosts Invited; the illuminated hall Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, As silent as the pictures on the wall. The stranger at my fireside cannot see The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; He but perceives what is; while unto me All that has been is visible and clear. We have no title-deeds to house or lands; Owners and occupants of earlier dates From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands, And hold in mortmain still their old estates. The spirit-world around this world of sense Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapoursdense A vital breath of more ethereal air. Our little lives are kept in equipoise By opposite attractions and desires; The struggle of the instinct that enjoys, And the more noble instinct that aspires. These perturbations, this perpetual jar Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of an unseen star An undiscovered planet in our sky. And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light, Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd Into the realm of mystery and night,— So from the world of spirits there descends A bridge of light, connecting it with this, O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends, Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.
If you’ve enjoyed reading this letter, I’d love you to share it with a friend or two. And should you come across anything beautiful this week, send it my way! I always love finding new things to read or watch.
Wishing you a wonderful day,
