Absence…. I just explained earlier today to a friend of mine how I felt that there were two kinds of absence. There is a physical kind and then there is a metaphysical kind. Both have some kind of connection to love and intensity, but what that connection is, is still subject to exploration. There is a siren call of absence. I say this because I don’t think that the connection between the myth of the sirens and that of absence has hitherto been explored. Correct me if I am wrong. But first let’s try to define what absence is, or what it means. The dictionary definition of absence is “A state of being away or not being present” or “failure to attend or appear when expected.” Now this has many metaphysical implications as well. In that absence is not merely externalized, such as in the absence of a lover, but also internalized such as a state of being far away or somewhere else in thought or spirit. That is where the siren call lies in wait. For where do we go to when we become internally absent? There is a siren call of absence, like I said, and in it we hear the sirens sing the hymns of our youth, of our ideals, even of our ideal loves, of lost friends, of our own being and perfected self. Sometimes we hear the sirens call of new realities, visionary modes of perception, or even annihilation. Which can bring us to another kind of absence, which is the absence of the will, the ego, which are the goals of most eastern spiritual traditions. But in all of these things there is something that grabs our attention. And it is not what is there, but rather what is not. Many years ago I wrote a sort of break up poem to one of my lovers. It went like this: “There is a farther light that calls for me It is seeking my attention It calls me out farther than you can my love And it is quieter than your beating heart Calmer than your gravest sin Taller than your brightest beacons There is no love in it But that does not matter Because in its place there is happiness For it is the impersonal, detached light of my destiny And it is warmer than your arms Freer than your bonds And though it has something to do with lungs and air It is deeper than your breath So that when it fills me It is like the breath of all my lovers are one interchangeably And it is peace as safe as houses As solemn and affirming as the flower-strewn avenues at sunset So that when I see it there Sunset-drenched, antiquated, blossomy and aloof It holds me there so faithfully That my greatest love is very soon forgotten” In this poem-letter to my ex-lover it is clear to me now that what was wrong with this relationship was not external, but rather an internal absence on my part and perhaps too much internal presence on hers. Or what I like to call the sirens call of that absent part of me. The part that I call the “farther light” or the “detached light of my destiny.” This is the seduction out beyond the social, into what is almost a cosmic annihilation which is more peaceful and holds more tranquility than the imposition of the will which we find with presence. This is why it seems warmer than bonds, quieter, and deeper. Because it lacks imposition, absence is more watery, less defined. I perhaps understand this better than I understand what presence means to interpersonal relationships. So that when someone goes away from me, it actually allows me to fulfill a role I am more acquainted with. The person in question becomes more comprehensible to me only when they become the searched for thing, the missing link, the hymn of youth. I say hymn of youth because that is the past, which is absent, like our first loves, emotions and ideals. And it is almost as if I am waiting for them to go away so that they can become this thing. This agglomeration of one total loss that is forever seeking to be recovered via some cosmic channel. “In Greek mythology the sirens were dangerous and beautiful creatures, who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music and voices to shipwreck on the rocky coast of their island.” That island for me is absence. Many people believe that to be alone is to have everything you love absent from you. But little do they understand the seductive power of absence itself. Jane Ellen Harrison says that the sirens were “mantic creatures like the sphinx with whom they have much in common, knowing both the past and the future. Their song takes effect at midday in a windless calm. The end of that song is death.” The past and the future are what is absent. The annihilation of the ego is absence. So that the sirens embody perfectly the seduction of what is not there rather than what is. And the end of their song is a cosmic annihilation which is the death of the ego. And that death is a peace because it lacks presence, it lacks force, and it lacks the will to impose a shape onto you. That is the biggest lure. “Absence is to love what wind is to fire; it extinguishes the small, it enkindles the great.” -Comte Debussy-Rabutin. What absence enkindles is the great cosmic longing. Only when given sufficient space can these feelings blossom and be given shape that approaches longing. And in that space, the flowers bloom wild, their seductive power is in their wildness, in their freedom. When there is too much presence, too little space, then there is constriction, there is suffocation, there is domestication which is the death of love. So I return for a minute to interpersonal relationships. This can both apply equally to a friendship as to a romantic relationship or marriage even. In a metaphysical sense, we need absence. Like I said, too much presence is constriction and suffocation. It destroys what it seeks to preserve. I am not talking about this in a physical sense at all. I am talking in regards to a constriction of the spirit. Love is mental, spiritual and physical. But when there is too much presence in the form of mental or emotional constriction or demand then it will kill everything. The lover or the friend will naturally set sail for that fabled island of absence where one can breathe much easier. The lure of this island is greater the more presence one is forced to endure. So the success of every relationship depends not on physical absence, but of a metaphysical absence. A way to allow the minds and emotions of all involved to breath, to flourish, to think, to flow. Only in this way and in this space can the beloved actually become the island of absence to which the sailor is going. Instead of becoming the catalyst for the escape, the beloved can become the siren, can become the thing sought for, the longed for quest, the searched for object, the island in the middle of mystery, the hymn of youth. And if we are speaking romantically, then the physical consummation of the relationship should not be an end to the quest, but rather, there should be a retraction so that the quest can continue and so that the lure can begin all over again. And that retraction must be on all levels. In friendship, without the physical elements, the same applies. There must be a retraction, there must be a space. So that the quest can continue, so that all of the friends are seeking the same island. So that when we reach out to each other, we do not find a hot, suffocating fire, but instead an endless cosmic ocean on which we are all sailing together.
Posted on: Mon, 30 Sep 2013 03:47:26 +0000
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