I should attribute a lot of the ideas and subject matter on here to my friend Michelle, because our conversations have inspired so much of the content. I am so grateful for her friendship and the connection we have.
We were texting this morning about Swan Lake, which I was lucky enough to go and see with my father and some friends at Covent Garden last night – the last evening of the performance, adding to the magic.
I was saying to Michelle how watching the dancing, the tutus gently flapping, the hand moments resembling the royal bird – well it really made me feel grateful to be alive, part of the human collective of the audience witnessing such majesty. I felt so thankful to have spent the evening with my father, that I have two parents who are still alive, when so many people don’t. I am at the age where friends’ parents are dying. It is sad and it is scary. It imprints the notion that along with taxes, death is coming for us all.
As a creative who is a therapist (which is very creative work) and a writer in total denial about the fact I need to finish this novel which I feel is my life’s calling, I think that is all we want. We want to make our impact on the world. That is why so many artists (by that I include all mediums – dancers, novelists, painters etc) and therapists are maniac codependents and addicts like me – we just need to be seen, and at times, it feels like life and death. You could call this narcissism or the narcissistic wound if we were going to get really ‘therapy’ about it. I definitely have narcissistic traits without the cruelty. I don’t lack empathy but I do feel a crushing need to be heard and can make things all about me, which can sometimes be a painful place to be (this is turning into a poem). Perhaps more Echo than Narcissus – both tricky go-to’s.
Following on from my blog about Hamlet, and Mr Freebairn, my A Level english teacher 1998-2000 – I guess that is why Shakespeare rocks my soul so much. He rocks it to some place of identification – none more so than his most famous tragedy. In the BBC documentary, ‘Shakespeare: Rise of a Genius’ Judi Dench explains that no one has written about the fundamentals of life or the human psyche like William. Helen Mirren agreed. It’s a great documentary if you are a lay and totally unacademic Shakespeare nut like me. I’m sure the academics sniff at such TV shows, but like Jesus, who would probably be horrified if he was here (well perhaps he is, that’s another debate) to see what has been done in his name, I am sure WS would abhor anything else but pure entertainment and impact being extrapolated from his work. That is what it was designed for – not for academics to pore over. That is why Mr Freebairn was so clever in the way he taught it. He brought it to life in a way that could make me see what the playwright was doing. Even though I had no clue then, that was the moment when I decided to become a writer in denial.
Back to impact and existential angst (actually we didn’t stray, as we were talking about Hamlet, probably the play that examines this the most) I’ve just finished reading Hamnet, Maggie O Farrell’s fictional masterpiece on the bard and his son of the title’s name. Hamnet Shakespeare died when he was around ten years old, of causes which we do not know, but she suggests to us in this incredible book. I want to write like Maggie O Farrell, because her writing impacts me like someone getting me in a headlock, beating me over the head, but somehow I am enjoying it and resist escaping from its grip.
O Farrell takes us through what the Shakespeare’s marriage may have been like, why he went to London and the family never came, and what happened around their son’s death. It’s a romp in a sort of torturous but addictive way. It’s how I want to make people feel – Swan Lake style. There’s a fear in me that I will leave this world with nothing in print, nothing that my descendants can say ‘she wrote that, and it affected someone, or it affects ME. She’s left a mark.’ SPOILER ALERT but the last line of O Farrell’s book which if you have read it, you will surely recount is REMEMBER ME which she ties in with the play in genius fashion. It took my breath away. We all want to take people’s breath away at some level. When we are born, we do, but perhaps we are not told enough. I will tell my children today how much they impact me.
So there we have it. Connection, and art. They are two sides of the same coin. The brilliant Johann Harí has written about this in his book ‘Lost Connections’ – read it because it does what it says on the mental health tin.
I’m now thinking about the wonderful tribute in Shelia Hancock’s memoirs of her life with John Thaw, which was actually written for someone else who died of cancer (details in the link at the bottom). Have a great weekend.
My much-loved friend,
It matters to have trodden the earth proudly, not arrogantly, but on feet that aren’t afraid to stand their ground, and move quickly when the need arises. It matters that your eyes have been on the object always, aware of its drift but not caught up in it. It matters that we were young together, and that you never lost the instincts and intuitions of a pioneer. It matters that you have been brave when retreat would have been easier. It matters that, in many places and at many times, you have made a difference. Your laugh has mattered. Your love has mattered. Above all, it matters that you have been loved.
Nothing else matters.
Jessica Drake - OCD / Anxiety Psychotherapist 