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serafaery"Something in the Woods Loves You" aka "the depression book I've been reading" by the poet and author of the Cryptonaturalist podcast has been nice so far, a little hard in places (chapter 7 was not the best listen for a wildflower hike on a crowded trail full of disrespectful wildflower pickers) but so far pretty resonant, even though the author is male, a bit younger than me, and comes from a fairly different backwoods Ohio upbringing compared to my urban childhood experiences, oh and of course his parents are still alive, but, both of us somehow made it to college and grad school and both of us have had severe depression for a long time. He is not religious and that makes all the difference, even though he says he is "at peace" with death which is hard for me to fathom ever being.
Anyway. He names his chapters lovely things, like "Blue Heron," "Grey Squirrel," "Red-Tailed Hawk," "Sugar Maple," "Morels," and such.
Chapter 8 is called White Trillium.
omgggggggggggggggggg.
This chapter is everything. Like every word of it.
I mean, it's basically set in April. This book is, I am realizing now, being told starting in winter and moving through the seasons in sequence, so White Trillium is set basically in April. When trillium blooms.
He quotes TS Eliot in this chapter, "April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”
Portland exploded in lilacs last week and the week before. They are still going, maybe one more week left.
Anyway.
All of my wildflower hikes this month and in March have included trillium. This is a very special and prolific and sacred flower, here in the pacific NW. It takes two years to germinate, after being planted by ants, 7-8 years to mature and flower, and often the entire plant dies if the flower is picked. (I have never picked a trillium. Something told me not to looooong before I knew it would be deadly to the plant to do so. It would not look or feel right to remove it from its shady cool low to the ground setting. The contrast of the white against the deep damp dark earth colors are part of its magic. I rarely have ever picked any wildflower. I prefer to take photos.)
It's just hitting all the right places and notes with me, right now. All of the reasons why depression springs up so readily in this culture, and all the ways our culture disallows us to seek help for it when we are afflicted with it. All the ways we are trained to loathe ourselves for our inherent weakness and failure for having it at all. The deepest and most inescapable shame. How exposing this shameful side of ourselves, our need for help, seems more daunting and painful than suicide. It's more complicated than that, but in general, I just feel... a massive sense of relief, reading this chapter. I feel it is something I will hold close to my heart for a long time.
Something in the Woods Loves You by Jarod K Anderson
Anyway. He names his chapters lovely things, like "Blue Heron," "Grey Squirrel," "Red-Tailed Hawk," "Sugar Maple," "Morels," and such.
Chapter 8 is called White Trillium.
omgggggggggggggggggg.
This chapter is everything. Like every word of it.
I mean, it's basically set in April. This book is, I am realizing now, being told starting in winter and moving through the seasons in sequence, so White Trillium is set basically in April. When trillium blooms.
He quotes TS Eliot in this chapter, "April is the cruelest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead land, mixing memory and desire, stirring dull roots with spring rain.”
Portland exploded in lilacs last week and the week before. They are still going, maybe one more week left.
Anyway.
All of my wildflower hikes this month and in March have included trillium. This is a very special and prolific and sacred flower, here in the pacific NW. It takes two years to germinate, after being planted by ants, 7-8 years to mature and flower, and often the entire plant dies if the flower is picked. (I have never picked a trillium. Something told me not to looooong before I knew it would be deadly to the plant to do so. It would not look or feel right to remove it from its shady cool low to the ground setting. The contrast of the white against the deep damp dark earth colors are part of its magic. I rarely have ever picked any wildflower. I prefer to take photos.)
It's just hitting all the right places and notes with me, right now. All of the reasons why depression springs up so readily in this culture, and all the ways our culture disallows us to seek help for it when we are afflicted with it. All the ways we are trained to loathe ourselves for our inherent weakness and failure for having it at all. The deepest and most inescapable shame. How exposing this shameful side of ourselves, our need for help, seems more daunting and painful than suicide. It's more complicated than that, but in general, I just feel... a massive sense of relief, reading this chapter. I feel it is something I will hold close to my heart for a long time.
Something in the Woods Loves You by Jarod K Anderson
