Nelly

Over the Garden Wall is SUCH a fascinating show to me for a myriad of reasons. But one of the things that stuck with me was the symbolism of the Woodsman and his lantern. TW for discussions on grief and unhealthy coping mechanisms (that I might get wrong, just as a warning).

I'm sure this has been said before, but to me it's just such a fascinating representation of how we unintentionally keep despair alive by clinging to our overwhelming grief of those we lost. Maybe I'm misinterpreting something or looking too deeply into it, but it's just. The lantern that the Woodsman keeps lighting in the hopes that his daughter's soul will be kept alive through it is, in actuality, keeping the Beast alive. And in a similar way I've read tales and actually studied grief theories about how people keep the memory of their loved one alive; at first, it's a good thing, and it can take however long or short you need to it be since grief seems to be something that generally never really goes away.

But there can come a point where all you live for is the dead, which is what the Woodsman was doing in laboring day and night to keep the lantern alive. And in doing so, you start to poison yourself and, rather than keeping the person you lost in living memory, you start to keep alive the despair and darkness. You start to keep alive the Beast rather than the soul of your daughter, in other words. Sometimes, it's intentional, though. "If I let go of this despair and anguish of mine, doesn't that mean I'll forever lose that person I loved?" And sometimes, it's unintentional.

The conclusion of it is that you have to let them go...you have to let that despair (not grief, but the poisonous and hopeless grief) go. Maybe, like Wirt did, through unflinching practicality and sheer knowledge rather than emotion. Or something else. But maybe, then, you'll find that when the lantern of your despair is gone, it'll be dark at first but you'll slowly start to see a grander light. And maybe, you'll find that your daughter is still alive anyway, in the light rather than in the darkness.

Andrew Garfield talks to Elmo about grief and the passing of his mother

[ Begin ID: A gifset of 9 gifs, showing Andrew Garfield and Elmo having a conversation while sitting on a stoop on the set of Sesame Street. Andrew is wearing a white long-sleeved jacket that has colorful flowers embroidered on the chest. Their conversation goes as follows:

Andrew: I'm just thinking about my mom today. She passed away not too long ago and you know, I just miss her a lot.

Elmo: Sorry to hear that, mister Andrew. Andrew: It's okay, you don't have to say sorry. It's actually kind of okay to miss somebody.

Elmo: You know, Elmo always feels really sad when he misses somebody. Andrew: Yeah, me too. You know, that sadness is kind of a gift. Kind of a lovely thing to feel in a way-

Andrew: Because it means that you really loved somebody when you miss them. And when I miss someone, when I miss my mom, I remember all the cuddles I used to get from her.

Andrew: All the hugs I used to get from her. It makes me feel close to her when I miss her, in a strange sort of way. So I'm happy to have all the memories of my mom and all the joy she brought me.

Andrew: And the joy she brought my brother, and my dad, everyone she ever met, everyone around her.

Andrew: So, when I miss her, I remember it's because she made me so happy. So, I can celebrate her and I can miss her at the same time.

Elmo: Elmo is going to think about and celebrate your mummy. Andrew: [whispers] Elmo was my mummy's favorite.

Elmo: Really? Andrew: Yeah! / End ID ]

Not being able to see someone you love all the time is so fucking stupid & missing them makes you so insufferable.. I literally feel the emotion in me seeping out through strange cracks in thought and conversation and I’m keeping it in badly like tape over a leaking pipe. I want to make it everyone’s problem. Oh you slept weird last night? I love this person. I miss this person. Did you know I love and miss them? I finished a book this morning and I miss them. I brushed my teeth and I miss them. My head kind of hurts and I love them. My feet are cold and I wish they were here. I feel like a cart missing a wheel, just stuck going in circles.

I love it when grieving characters start adopting the features of a person who has died, wearing their keepsakes, adopting their mannerisms, speaking like they did. letting the dead live through them as if they never left, as if they never died. Plus points if they start losing who they are in the process, one life for another, in a way.

i love when a character is a ghost but in a tragic way instead of a scary way. i love when a character has been dead from the beginning but is still holding on to stay in the narrative. i love when a character could choose to resent the living but ends up loving them instead. i love when a character drives the story but isn’t quite there enough to be at the center of it. i love when the ghosts are the protectors instead of the ones causing the harm. i love when a character is at the heart of the story because depending on where you began it, no matter how you told it, the story is about the ghost who struggled to keep their humanity

‘Love is the one thing that we’re capable of perceiving that transcends dimensions of time and space.’

[Image ID: A comment on a YouTube video written by "JoshuaBarretto":

"Lovely video. I have a little personal anecdote that slots surprisingly neatly into the themes of this video."

"71 years ago, my grandfather took a cycling trip around the perimeter of France with a friend. He kept a diary, meticulously documenting the events of almost every day. Last month, my brothers and I embarked on the same journey, following in his footsteps. I'd avoided reading the diary beforehand, so every day I'd read about his experience at the same time that I had them myself: the places he'd visited, the food he'd eaten, the people he'd found, and at the same time we'd see the same sights. Some days we were ahead of him, some days we were behind."

"After a few days, I realised that something very surprising was happening. 71 years later, and 40 years after the death of this man we never knew, we stopped talking about him in the past tense. It took me a while to notice it, but it slowly became more obvious. We'd say things like "he's just 10 kilometres ahead of us now" or "he's over there as he's taking that photo." Seven decades, suddenly erased - an experience that felt almost out of time - and in those few days he felt closer and more alive than he ever had before. It was a strange experience, and something I doubt I shall ever have again." End Image ID.]

when i am asked by Lisel Mueller

I mean it’s kinda the real life tragedy of love exaggerated, innit? Irl people die young or one person dies old and another person dies even older. At the end of it all someone gets left behind and has to learn how to move on after that. And for the one who dies you know you’re leaving them behind. You know you’re dooming them to moving on and if you believe in an afterlife god only knows how long you’ll be waiting for them on the other side. The tragedy of the immortal loving the mortal takes those feelings we all know about and rips your heart out about it.

#also not to dampen the poignancy of human connection but#this is how it feels to cherish your pet...#they'll love you the whole of their lives#you'll have them for a small window of yours#but how blessed you are to win the cosmic lottery of existing at the same time together#if only for a little while

[Image ID: Tweet from kyle (@/ thcsus) reading: mortal/immortal ships are so insane because what do you mean i'll love you for the rest of my life and you'll miss me for the rest of yours /End ID]

just an aside kind of post not related to anything, but if anyone's ever gone through grief of some kind and you need some help with the release of the most gut-wrenching emotions, i really recommend giving this a listen. it's really cathartic to me, like a rollercoaster of pain and hope

grief is so crazy like what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. does she know i loved her. i miss her so much. i catch myself doing things she used to do. i wish i could call her. i miss her so much. i do a crossword puzzle. i cry while washing the dishes. does she know i loved her? my heart feels like a hummingbird. i miss her so much. what if i forget what her laugh sounds like. what if i forget.

been thinking a lot about anticipatory grief lately. i love you so much that i know losing you will devastate me. i haven't lost you yet but i already miss you. we still have time, but it won't be enough. i think about what i would say at your funeral, and say some of it to you now cause i need you to know how loved you are before you go. you will go where i cannot follow, but you will never really leave me. it won't make it hurt less but it is a part of healing somehow.

Mahmoud Darwish, from Journal of an Ordinary Grief (tr. from the Arabic by Ibrahim Muhawi)

Ohhhhhj so the childhood self doesn't disappear forever they come back as a ghost when you are struggling to break into adulthood and sit with you during your lunch break so you're not alone. Alright

See, you start reading The Locked Tomb because everyone is like wow, lesbian necromancers in space, fun but watch out it's a little sad! And then Tasmyn Muir says my entire magic system is based on the fact that you cannot know someone without being changed by their existence. You cannot lose someone, grieve for someone without them becoming a part of you forever. Grief is transformative because love is transformative. It's also a consumption, because love is a consumption - souls merge when they spend enough time near each other. You will never be the person you were before you met them.

Absolutely insane lines to just drop in the middle of an academic text btw. Feeling so normal about this.

[ A Critical History of English Literature, Vol. 1, Prof. David Daiches, first published in 1960 ]

[ID: “The tragedy of Hamlet, as in some degree of Othello, is that moral outrage demands action when no action can be of any use. In a sense, we can say that the ghost was at fault in appearing to Hamlet in the first place and setting him-for what might be called purely selfish reasons--a task which, even if accom-plished, could do no possible good. When Hamlet's whole nature was outraged by his mother's behavior and then by the news of his father's murder, he naturally felt that something must be done. But what? What could be done that would make any diference-any difference at all to the things that really mattered? Would a dagger through Claudius' ribs restore Hamlet's shattered universe? Would it restore his earlier idealized image of his mother or remove the "blister" that had been set on his innocent love? This is a tragedy of moral frustration. What are you going to do about past crimes which have shattered your preconceptions about the nature of life? There is nothing you can ever do about the past, except forget it. And yet, of course, Hamlet could not forget. Revenge is no real help-what sort of action, then, is of help? None that is directed toward undoing the past: only purposive action directed toward the future can ever help. And that is at least one explanation of Hamlet's long delay in carrying out the ghost's command: he wanted action that would undo the past, and no action could do that, revenge least of all, for that would only re-enact the past.

The punishment can never fit the crime, for it can never undo it.” End ID.]

media that is unapologetic about grief. that shows unresolved trauma as hollowing yet all consuming. that follows the pain all the way down. that you cannot uproot it without descending deep deep down into the seat of the earth