It was a meaningful day. Nothing obviously significant happened but I did experience a small pocket of peace here and there. That glimpse of what is possible is really everything that keeps one going.
Here are all the things I am grateful for:
1. Papa is well.
2. I met my brother. There was the usual tension but the meeting did go off well. After a point, you take any peaceful interaction as a kind of a salve.
3. Went for a hair wash. The cost has increased. But oh well...once in a while, it's okay.
4. Got my laptop repaired. That cost a pretty penny. The monies for this month will come through only later but really glad that I had kept something away for expenses like this.
5. Had a good conversation with my help. They really are sweet. God bless them!
6. Felt so good after writing my post and impressions on 'The Fisherman'.
What do you lose when someone close to you dies? Not just someone you love but also, maybe, someone you hate or envy? Maybe the part of us that lived, felt, and was that earlier way goes too. And that soup of loss and longing is not always resting in peace. So when you want to bring back the dead, or you reach out to a spirit from the beyond, it is not just them that you are beckoning. Maybe you want to retrieve a part of your existence that was bookmarked by that person as well.
The premise of The Fisherman is a dramatic, literary horror story. It explores the usual tropes of the genre – what types of evil lurk, what choices do we really have, what all would we trade to bring back whom we lost…and whom do we become in the process.
The story takes us through the lives of two men who, at different times, have lost their wives and children. (At least one of them has.) They work together in the same office. We first follow Abraham or Abe (pay attention to the name here). He lost his wife soon after finding love in life. He initially turned to alcoholism. (The description of the molasse of grief that one wades through after the death of someone) is lyrical and exacting.) Over time, Abe finds solace in fishing. Then one day, a colleague at work, Dan, also faces a similar fate. He loses his wife and kid(s?) in an accident that he himself survives. So, there is loss, shame, guilt…and the dimming of life.
Abe recognizes this in Dan and suggests that they go fishing together.
They keep looking for spots to fish around in and come across a place called ‘The Dutchman’s Creek’ in upstate New York. It is not very far from where they live. However, the place comes mired in lore and warning. On their way up the Creek, they stop at a diner, and they hear about an immigrant who moved into the area and did something akin to energetic colonization of the space. (Cannot reveal too much here without it being a giveaway.)
But these are places where the book really heightens from a page-turner plot to a soak in the philosophy. The narrative is a story within a story. The owner at the diner talks about characters and their lives. And through that lens, we find out more about those characters and their inner worlds. Then we begin the build-up to the darkness that leads the two men to the Creek.
The description of the creek itself, its history, the sickness of suppressed wounds and unyelled screams is palpable. It does get a bit long-winded sometime but what really shines through is the way some Biblical motifs and stories are leveraged here – especially the immenseness of Leviathan. Not just the actual monstrous creature – but what Leviathan symbolized. Was Leviathan any more or less dangerous than Lucifer? What sustains a creature like that? Are we sure that it does not exist in the same plane as us?
Then we come to the titular character itself, “The Fisherman”. He was a dark, lean stranger dressed in an ominous air of mystery comes to the area. He takes over a house, and no one ever seems to see him again. But you know that something is going on in that house. People around are impacted. Strange goings on are noted, and this man and this house are avoided…until Dave and Abe visit it. (Someone describes the house as such: “I don’t know if you’ve spent time in the Catskills. From a distance, say, the parking lot of the old Caldor’s (which became an Ames that became a Stop ‘N’ Shop) in Huguenot, they’ve always made me think of a herd of giant animals, all standing grazing on the horizon.
Up close, when you’re driving among them with the early morning light breaking over their round peaks, they seem incredibly present, more real than real, these huge solid heaps of rock that wear their trees like mile-long scarves. You glance at them, trying to keep your eyes on the road, which is already pretty busy with people driving up for a weekend getaway, and somehow you wouldn’t be surprised if the mountain closest to you were to cast off its trees in one titanic shrug and start to lumber away, a vast, unimaginable beast.
When you turn off onto whatever secondary road you need to take, and you’re following its twists and turns back into the mountains, and the ground is steep to either side of you, opening every now and then on a meadow, or an old house, you think, Here, there are secret places.”)
Anyway, one thing leads to another and Abe and Dan find themselves at a crossroad. Or at least one of them finds themselves there. The other one crosses the threshold. This is where this quote by one of the characters (I think Abe’s wife) takes on a whole new meaning: “You can make an oyster surrender its pearl…All you need is persistence and a sharp enough knife.”
This is a beautiful, tedious, atmospheric novel…scary only when you realize that all of life is trying to make peace with what we lose.
So all existence is an exercise in exorcism.
And that’s he Fisherman’s sobering lesson.
Well, survived one more day. Nowadays I am wondering how I am chalking up a few of such days off and on. Got a disturbing and painful news that my aunt is in the ICU. I pray that she gets better.
Here are all the things that I am grateful for:
1. Papa is well. I did not speak with him today but no urgent calls from home so I think it is all okay.
2. Got through some work calls okay.
3. Started reading a book. I will write about it later.
4. Had water and electricity.
5. Treated myself to garlic naan and daal from Khaane Khas.
I am a little tired of this. But here are all the things I am grateful for:
1. Papa is well.
2. I wrote about a book today.
3. I had a good chat with someone.
4. Had tasty food.
5. Survived
There's a quote by Chesterton that goes, "“The Bible tells us to love our neighbors, and also to love our enemies; probably because generally they are the same people.” The paradox of being burdened by the same thing that fueled you, or being pained by the same thing that protected you is not a new condition. In fact, one could postulate that this condition is as old as human existence itself. One of the common fallouts of living with such paradox is incessant labelling and an endless need to survive a volatile inner world - a feeling or a trait that felt good at one time feels bad and sickly at another.
It is usually in the middle of such churn that one finds a book. In my case, I'd come across this book ages ago but it was lying on my bookshelf for a long while. And then it was Gagandeep Singh Kapoor's gentle insistence that I read it. And it was a tough read - emotionally, mentally, and although I do not want to use that term in context of a book write-up - but spiritually as well. There is such a Vedantic-patina to the whole text that is hard to miss. But I am getting ahead of myself.
Richard C Schwartz is an American psychotherapist who developed the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model. This model serves as a systemic approach to traditional psychotherapy, the ultimate aim of which is dealing with and healing trauma - both at an individual and family level. The story of how he identified the gaps and limitations in psychotherapy and how this led to the emergence of IFS is a deeply humbling trajectory in itself. (The book has a small portion of that.) There comes a time when intellect just goes so far and no further - one does not understand why one feels or things the way one does, why patterns keep repeating - and even if you have figured those two parts - how do you get the story to change?
A central premise to IFS is a departure from the 'mono mind'. Basically, we do not have just one mind. Our mind itself is made up of many different parts. Our non-acceptance of this paradigm is what has us warring with our various sides. However, we do have a central Self that is peaceful and compassionate. The issue is when our various parts take over and edge out the Self. These parts that we are made up of are firefighters, managers, protectors - and a few others that I have forgotten. Although every part may be different, each part's entire agenda is to save and protect yourself from further hurt. The self-sabotage that you likely face is one part protecting you for the 'good stuff' for your 'own good'. Suppressing, denying, berating the part- etc. does not help. If anything, it makes those parts fight back stronger. So, the idea is to sit with yourself and try to talk to each of these parts and then mediate and come to some truce.
The book has some meditations and exercises that one can work through. They are tough because any of the feelings that are deep rooted and deep seated are painful as they get dislodged. And I did actually feel the dislodging - which is an oddly surreal feeling. You don't think of an old emotion holding physical space in your body but maybe it does. (Or maybe I am just that susceptible). But -- as with my introduction to Vedanta -- the first step was to try to stop labeling. Describe a situation, not judge it. Because with judgment comes a need to defend, deny, justify, explain, etc. etc. - everything besides acceptance. And acceptance (or as Tara Bracht called it...Radical Acceptance) is the answer. In fact more than the answer, it is the whole point of all this living.
I particularly liked the sweetness of the language. It is kind and tender. The description of how IFS is supposed to help one architect a strong personality, a compassionate human being...and maybe a loving world - that is the most winsome message of this book.
"“We need a new paradigm that convincingly shows that humanity is inherently good and thoroughly interconnected. With that understanding, we can finally move from being ego-, family-, and ethno-centric to species-, bio-, and planet-centric.”
And if we look around at the world we currently inhabit, that's the memory we need...and the resolve.
A hibiscus near a teacup,
An orchid by a glass of wine,
A park bench in twilight,
Our Mondays soaked in brine.
Been really really unwell. But my dad is with me. The pain killers worked. That is okay. As far as possible, this is what we get so far. That much is enough.
