gabriele’s Reviews > Now Go: On Grief and Studio Ghibli > Status Update

because you can't. don't try. it is tiring. it is useless. it is no way to live.

that's exactly what you have to do. after all there is always – somewhere out there – a winking light in the darkness.

the only way to gain some semblance control is to relinquish it – to feel every wave, let them each pass through you as you pass through them in return, allowing the salt to get in your eyes and in your ears, asking the rushing darkness to envelop you – rather than pretending for a single second that you can jump above their peak for any real amount of time.

i am older than i was then, now i allow myself to bury grief and for it in turn to bury me.

There is hope, though. the irony is that we – each of us – has had it all along. sometimes buried deep, almost inaccesible, but there nonetheless. it isn't easy to reach, especially when our hands are slapped away for even the beginning of that motion, but to endure the sting of those raps is to find something well worth the pain. Over time it is a pain which disappears – leaving only the raw nerve of joy.

we do not fight quite hard enough to protect, at least, not until it is too late.

Grief – for a life that was or a life that could have been – is a powerful motivator.

and that scorn is not just a benigh clucking of the tongue. it is white-hot and razor sharp. it is painful and precise enough to leave not just a lasting sting but also, if not properly treated, a permanent scar of self-doubt: a reminder to think again before exposing yourself to a world in which the done thing is to simply bury the light of those feelings until they are extinguised by lack of air.

the world works hard to beat out of us the things about which we care the most – to dilute our passions and temper our reactions. The world at large, to its great shame, is scornful of people who live deeply.

but grief is real; it is physical – it doesn't just happen, or even happen to you. it is there. right there. next to you, always.

only when you have sat together long enough, had enough altercattions and conversations, left open enough doors and walked through them together can you decide that you'd like some time alone.

only then, so close and so intimate, can you feel free to ask for reprieve. to say "now go".

but grief is real; it is physical – it doesn't just happen, or even happen to you. it is there. right there. next to you, always.

death, as much as a contradiction as it seems, isn't an event; it isn't something that just happens: it is something you have to learn to live with. not just once, an eternal phantom – neither benevolent nor benign, but not inherently evil either.