Island discussion #4: Susila’s poem and the ultimate impersonality of our experience
Monday, October 13, 2008
For the next several weeks, we will be discussing Aldous Huxley’s Island. Click here for all the book club posts.
As Will Farnaby rests up, he begins to read Notes on What’s What, and on What It Might be Reasonable to Do about What’s What, a short book written by the Old Raja of Pala, laying out some of the ideas behind the design of Pala’s culture.
As he turns the pages, a poem written by the healer Susila, who has recently lost her husband in a mountain climbing accident, falls out. It’s a lovely piece of writing about accepting one’s life, loves and losses included, as it is, then, having accepted it, seeing it all as part of a larger, impersonal process. Here is a part of it:
Somewhere between seeing and speaking, somewhere
Between our soiled and greasy currency of words
And the first star, the great moths fluttering
About the ghosts of flowers,
Lies the clear place where I, no longer I,
Nevertheless remember
Love’s nightlong wisdom of the other shore;
And, listening to the wind, remember too
That other night, that first of widowhood,
Sleepless, with death beside me in the dark.
Mine, mine, all mine inescapably!
But I, no longer I,
In this clear place between my thought and silence
See all that I had and lost, anguish and joys,
Glowing like gentians in the Alpine grass
Blue, unpossessed and open.

