This was very beautiful. Particularly touched by you writing about the disruption of the seasons, the early tulips when there should be snow, and yet the fact that though the bounds of the cycle can be stretched, all things must still pass.
I loved reading this - thanks so much for sharing and reflecting and feeling. I, as a woman who works with old fairytales and myths, find Inanna and her descent something that I return to again and again. (No pun intended) She is able to ascend from the Underworld as she is remembered by her companion Ninshubur. Her story is the earliest written one ever found and is an explanation for seasons and all about how darn as cannot be cost without light, not light without darkness and how these must be repeated.
It gives me great solace and connection to know these things were being written about so long again to help us make sense of ourselves and our world and we still write about them now. The cycle continues.
Thank you so much for your kind words Katrice. My manuscript is a rewriting of the Persephone myth (albeit a very loose, liminal and uncanny one) but I haven't spent much time with Inanna. I shall have a look today!
But yes - these monomythic stories are so integral to the human experience of grief and seasonal shift. It's comforting and fascinating to know that these feelings we have when turning to the natural world are innate.
I find the emergence of Spring quite challenging. As much as I welcome, need and want all the daffodils, the blossom and lighter afternoons and evenings it marks a period of grief. Mothers Day rings the bell and in the nine years since mum died the intensity of those swirling emotions has dampened, but there's still a surge at some point, these days it tends to just happen during the day itself rather than the whole build up. Mothers Day navigated though and we're into birthday season with the anniversary of her death (end of May) in between my sons' birthdays marking a pause. I then breathe and settle into the early summer before two more anniversaries in August (my maternal grandmother) and September (dad). They all died in 2015 and I find the looping grief slowing down these days. There are more pauses in between the tears, shallow breathing and tight stomach but inevitably it starts again. It's never been a straight line. I found the cycle or stages of grief helpful initially but struggle to know how I'm meant to feel or grieve almost a decade later. Thank you so much for this.
Sending you so much love as I nod along with everything you're saying here. We also have a tangle of birthdays and death anniversaries and it's all so tricky. I find that triggers can be entirely random, too. My wee boy has started acting like my brother, for example. And it just catches me off guard in the most unexpected of ways.
Grief is very meandering. If I've learnt anything in my nearly 20 years of it, it's to try and not define stages and just plod through and sit in those difficult feelings x
Yes, I think I've got better at simply acknowledging the emotions, noting them if you like rather than trying to over analyse them or forcing them into a labelled box. Plodding and meandering - absolutely. Sending love to you too, I'm pleased I've found your writing (via Lindsay Johnstone)
Thank you for sharing the inspiration behind the title Equinox. It sounds perfect. Yes, one of the myths I end up unpicking in my therapy work is the constant reference to the stages of grief. I write about it's cyclicity in Weathering to try and put this to bed. There are no linear stages. I'm also a huge Paul Nash fan - it's uncanny some of the echoes between us actually reading this - so thank you for this start to my vernal morning. I'm really excited to read more of Equinox!
Thank you so much Ruth. We absolutely need to chat! I'll try to catch you at the book festival. Hope launch week goes really well and im really looking forward to reading Weathering -- I agree there is so much synergy.
You really touched my heart here, Kirsty. Such an emotional belly-punch but also so thought-provoking. You got me thinking about liminal spaces/times in a whole new light. Now I’m questioning linearity v cyclical in all experience, not just grief. Thank you!
What a beautiful piece of writing, Kirsty.
You can voice the challenge of the journey of bereavement with such honesty. Your connection to nature and to the seasons is beautiful and engaging.
This was very beautiful. Particularly touched by you writing about the disruption of the seasons, the early tulips when there should be snow, and yet the fact that though the bounds of the cycle can be stretched, all things must still pass.
Thank you pal. Really appreciate the time and words. Makes a change from discussing our quarrelling two year olds!
And still, the fact that I’m commenting before 7am does suggest that toddlers are still at it haha
I loved reading this - thanks so much for sharing and reflecting and feeling. I, as a woman who works with old fairytales and myths, find Inanna and her descent something that I return to again and again. (No pun intended) She is able to ascend from the Underworld as she is remembered by her companion Ninshubur. Her story is the earliest written one ever found and is an explanation for seasons and all about how darn as cannot be cost without light, not light without darkness and how these must be repeated.
It gives me great solace and connection to know these things were being written about so long again to help us make sense of ourselves and our world and we still write about them now. The cycle continues.
Thank you so much for your kind words Katrice. My manuscript is a rewriting of the Persephone myth (albeit a very loose, liminal and uncanny one) but I haven't spent much time with Inanna. I shall have a look today!
But yes - these monomythic stories are so integral to the human experience of grief and seasonal shift. It's comforting and fascinating to know that these feelings we have when turning to the natural world are innate.
I find the emergence of Spring quite challenging. As much as I welcome, need and want all the daffodils, the blossom and lighter afternoons and evenings it marks a period of grief. Mothers Day rings the bell and in the nine years since mum died the intensity of those swirling emotions has dampened, but there's still a surge at some point, these days it tends to just happen during the day itself rather than the whole build up. Mothers Day navigated though and we're into birthday season with the anniversary of her death (end of May) in between my sons' birthdays marking a pause. I then breathe and settle into the early summer before two more anniversaries in August (my maternal grandmother) and September (dad). They all died in 2015 and I find the looping grief slowing down these days. There are more pauses in between the tears, shallow breathing and tight stomach but inevitably it starts again. It's never been a straight line. I found the cycle or stages of grief helpful initially but struggle to know how I'm meant to feel or grieve almost a decade later. Thank you so much for this.
Sending you so much love as I nod along with everything you're saying here. We also have a tangle of birthdays and death anniversaries and it's all so tricky. I find that triggers can be entirely random, too. My wee boy has started acting like my brother, for example. And it just catches me off guard in the most unexpected of ways.
Grief is very meandering. If I've learnt anything in my nearly 20 years of it, it's to try and not define stages and just plod through and sit in those difficult feelings x
Yes, I think I've got better at simply acknowledging the emotions, noting them if you like rather than trying to over analyse them or forcing them into a labelled box. Plodding and meandering - absolutely. Sending love to you too, I'm pleased I've found your writing (via Lindsay Johnstone)
And yours! I'll have a read this evening 🩷
Thank you for sharing the inspiration behind the title Equinox. It sounds perfect. Yes, one of the myths I end up unpicking in my therapy work is the constant reference to the stages of grief. I write about it's cyclicity in Weathering to try and put this to bed. There are no linear stages. I'm also a huge Paul Nash fan - it's uncanny some of the echoes between us actually reading this - so thank you for this start to my vernal morning. I'm really excited to read more of Equinox!
Thank you so much Ruth. We absolutely need to chat! I'll try to catch you at the book festival. Hope launch week goes really well and im really looking forward to reading Weathering -- I agree there is so much synergy.
You really touched my heart here, Kirsty. Such an emotional belly-punch but also so thought-provoking. You got me thinking about liminal spaces/times in a whole new light. Now I’m questioning linearity v cyclical in all experience, not just grief. Thank you!
Thanks so much for these kind words Morag!
What power lies in these words, Kirsty.
🧡🌗
This was meant to read - how dark cannot exist without light… nor light without darkness