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98 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 15, 2024
‘In Turkish, we speak of “extracting” the forty days, like a sort of exorcism. My grandmothers assure me that it will all get better after forty days are out—In Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, forty days mark periods of trial and transformation. Moses spends forty days on Mount Sinai to receive the ten commandments, Jesus fasts for forty days in the desert before his temptation, the Masih ad-Dajjal—reigns for forty days at the end of time.’
‘El-Zein offers several accounts across cultures of supernatural beings—the jinn queen Rawaha Bint Sakan; the wild women of the woods in Russian myths; the grandmother of the Maori demigod Tāwhaki. “One wonders why in all these stories across the world the supernatural wife never takes her children with her,” writes El-Zein. “Her love for her children seems to be different from that of a human mother.”’
‘—Eduardo Kohn articulates an “ecology of selves” in his ethnography of the Runa in Ecuador’s upper Amazon that consists of both the human and nonhuman entities of a community, as well as the spirits which help make sense of the density of the forest. Moving beyond our symbolic and dualistic thought systems, which decouple thought from its worldly referents, Kohn proposes “a kind of thought that is more capacious, one that holds and sustains the human. This other kind of thinking is the one that forests do, the kind of thinking that thinks its way through the lives of people, like the Runa (and others), who engage intimately with the forest’s living beings in ways that amplify life’s distinctive logics.
Why locate the metropolitan mother and child in the same wilderness as the Amazonian Runa? What interests me, in the extreme embodiment of the postpartum, is the swarm of encounters during this time: with the baby, more animal than human, more sensory than intellect, and with the invisible presences that flock to the site of birth, of new life. I find, in this liminal existence, a site for multiplicity, for experiencing the world beyond ourselves. It is a site for enchantment and renewal. It presents a possibility for redefining how we relate to the flesh of the world, and how we allow the world to touch us back.’
‘To be ghost,” says Singh Soin, “is to be generous with boundaries. The ghost story allows us to construct a language of translucency: both is and can be.”
I cannot arrive at anything specific; no memory to reveal my state to me, as the ubiquitous logic of popular psychology demands. It is this same logic that has set me on the path to solving the problem. This idea that sadness must be hunted down and eradicated, and that it can be done by looking back and finding the culprit. But I’m too tired. Rather than confronting the feeling head on, I puncture it occasionally, letting it deflate, until it expands and fills me again. Over and over again, I am seized by sadness and anger, a wish to be cared for and an inability to accept care.’
‘I ask my mother whom, of the people she knows personally, she considers lucky. Without a moment’s hesitation, she names a family friend—a housewife who lives a suburban life in Istanbul. She and her husband often go on trips organized through tourism agencies. They have a summerhouse and a cat. The woman takes classes for self-development. She loves shopping for orthopedic shoes and practical handbags. She treats herself to a few cigarettes per week. She and her husband must be the most normal people I know. I can hardly believe my mother’s choice.
“She’s always in a good mood,” my mother says. “She enjoys her life.” My own lucky nemesis equally surprises my husband. An artist with a large network and many grants to her name. “You don’t even like her art,” my husband says. ”’
‘In September, when we were back in Istanbul, we went to have our coffee fortunes read at a café in Kadıköy—Other memories from that summer: the joy of being an adult. Our beauty, suddenly revealed. The threshold where we stood, looking out at life ahead, at the freedom to come. In classical Islam, thresholds were believed to be intermediary spaces—.’