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RE: [existlist] Re: Minute narratives

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  • eduard at home
    eduard --- The context is obviously that Anne Sexton is trying to keep her neurons happy by rationalizing things. We all do that, although sometimes we don t
    Message 1 of 6 , Feb 2, 2008
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      eduard ---
      The context is obviously that Anne Sexton is trying to keep her
      neurons happy by rationalizing things. We all do that, although sometimes
      we don't have a yellow daisy to give to the crazy woman in the next bed.



      -----Original Message-----
      From: existlist@yahoogroups.com [mailto:existlist@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf
      Of wot53_2000
      Sent: February-02-08 8:34 AM
      To: existlist@yahoogroups.com
      Subject: [existlist] Re: Minute narratives


      Louise, what was the context of Anne Sexton's poem?

      Do you see the poem as a faith statement? Like ultimate rescue?
      Or is it just a poem of struggle for life and meaning.
      I'll research her more.

      Warren

      *********************


      One of the volumes I've come away with
      > and am currently reading is Lewis Wolpert's "Malignant Sadness: The
      > Anatomy of Depression". In a chapter dealing with suicide he
      quotes
      > this poem by Anne Sexton, which I think well worth reproducing
      here,
      > without further comment:
      >
      >
      > The Sickness Unto Death
      >
      > God went out of me
      > as if the sea dried up like sandpaper,
      > as if the sun became a latrine.
      > God went out of my fingers.
      > They became stone.
      > My body became a side of mutton
      > and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.
      >
      > Someone brought me oranges in my despair
      > but I could not eat one
      > for God was in that orange.
      > I could not touch what did not belong to me.
      > The priest came,
      > he said God was even in Hitler.
      > I did not believe him
      > for if God were in Hitler
      > then God would be in me.
      > I did not hear the bird sounds.
      > They had left.
      > I did not see the speechless clouds,
      > I saw only the little white dish of my faith
      > breaking in the crater.
      > I kept saying:
      > I've got to have something to hold on to.
      > People gave me Bibles, crucifixes,
      > a yellow daisy,
      > but I could not touch them,
      > I who was a house of bowel movement,
      > I who was a defaced altar,
      > I who wanted to crawl toward God
      > could not move nor eat bread.
      > So I ate myself,
      > bite by bite,
      > and the tears washed me,
      > wave after cowardly wave,
      > swallowing canker after canker
      > and Jesus stood over me looking down
      > and He laughed to find me gone,
      > and put his mouth to mine
      > and gave me His air.
      >
      > My kindred, my brother, I said
      > and gave the yellow daisy
      > to the crazy woman in the next bed.
      >




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    • mary.jo11
      And of course, there were those times when she wasn t. For instance when she molested one of her daughters or when she killed herself. We can hypothesize that
      Message 2 of 6 , Feb 2, 2008
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        And of course, there were those times when she wasn't. For instance
        when she molested one of her daughters or when she killed herself. We
        can hypothesize that dark energy exerted a negative pressure until she
        collapsed under the weight of both happy and sad neurons.

        Mary

        eduard at home <yeoman@...> wrote:

        The context is obviously that Anne Sexton is trying to keep her
        neurons happy by rationalizing things.
      • eduard at home
        eduard --- Yes. Sometimes we can t find a way to keep our neurons happy, so a person decides to end it all. Most unfortunate. Too many people take life too
        Message 3 of 6 , Feb 2, 2008
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          eduard ---
          Yes. Sometimes we can't find a way to keep our neurons happy, so a
          person decides to end it all. Most unfortunate. Too many people take life
          too seriously.

          -----Original Message-----
          From: existlist@yahoogroups.com [mailto:existlist@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf
          Of mary.jo11
          Sent: February-02-08 10:41 AM
          To: existlist@yahoogroups.com
          Subject: [existlist] minute contexts

          And of course, there were those times when she wasn't. For instance
          when she molested one of her daughters or when she killed herself. We
          can hypothesize that dark energy exerted a negative pressure until she
          collapsed under the weight of both happy and sad neurons.

          Mary

          eduard at home <yeoman@...> wrote:

          The context is obviously that Anne Sexton is trying to keep her
          neurons happy by rationalizing things.



          Please support the Existential Primer... dedicated to explaining nothing!

          Home Page: http://www.tameri.com/csw/exist
          Yahoo! Groups Links
        • louise
          Warren, I think for me it is a poem of ultimate bewilderment, and accordingly provides some reassurance, that the questions raised by living are not easily
          Message 4 of 6 , Feb 2, 2008
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            Warren, I think for me it is a poem of ultimate bewilderment, and
            accordingly provides some reassurance, that the questions raised by
            living are not easily answered by everyone. Really, this ought to be
            obvious, so my quoting Anne Sexton's work without comment like that
            probably only signified my own state of depression at the time.
            Lewis Wolpert explains in his book that he views this mental
            condition as "sadness out of control", and that "sadness is to
            depression what normal growth is to cancer". Hence the volume's
            title. Louise

            --- In existlist@yahoogroups.com, "wot53_2000" <wot53_2000@...> wrote:
            >
            >
            > Louise, what was the context of Anne Sexton's poem?
            >
            > Do you see the poem as a faith statement? Like ultimate rescue?
            > Or is it just a poem of struggle for life and meaning.
            > I'll research her more.
            >
            > Warren
            >
            > *********************
            >
            >
            > One of the volumes I've come away with
            > > and am currently reading is Lewis Wolpert's "Malignant Sadness:
            The
            > > Anatomy of Depression". In a chapter dealing with suicide he
            > quotes
            > > this poem by Anne Sexton, which I think well worth reproducing
            > here,
            > > without further comment:
            > >
            > >
            > > The Sickness Unto Death
            > >
            > > God went out of me
            > > as if the sea dried up like sandpaper,
            > > as if the sun became a latrine.
            > > God went out of my fingers.
            > > They became stone.
            > > My body became a side of mutton
            > > and despair roamed the slaughterhouse.
            > >
            > > Someone brought me oranges in my despair
            > > but I could not eat one
            > > for God was in that orange.
            > > I could not touch what did not belong to me.
            > > The priest came,
            > > he said God was even in Hitler.
            > > I did not believe him
            > > for if God were in Hitler
            > > then God would be in me.
            > > I did not hear the bird sounds.
            > > They had left.
            > > I did not see the speechless clouds,
            > > I saw only the little white dish of my faith
            > > breaking in the crater.
            > > I kept saying:
            > > I've got to have something to hold on to.
            > > People gave me Bibles, crucifixes,
            > > a yellow daisy,
            > > but I could not touch them,
            > > I who was a house of bowel movement,
            > > I who was a defaced altar,
            > > I who wanted to crawl toward God
            > > could not move nor eat bread.
            > > So I ate myself,
            > > bite by bite,
            > > and the tears washed me,
            > > wave after cowardly wave,
            > > swallowing canker after canker
            > > and Jesus stood over me looking down
            > > and He laughed to find me gone,
            > > and put his mouth to mine
            > > and gave me His air.
            > >
            > > My kindred, my brother, I said
            > > and gave the yellow daisy
            > > to the crazy woman in the next bed.
            > >
            >
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