The darkest moment of my life
Several dark thoughts:
1. The most trivial recent dark moment was what happened after I spent time writing this blog entry the first time, then pressing the button to preview it. The entry disappeared. Operator error no doubt, but anthropomorphically I imagine a computer in an internet cafe with a mean streak.
2. An enlightening darkest moment: I went caving last week. Caving is a caver's term for going into a cave. Caving counts as fun among young guys who are fearless and old guys trying to show they are still fearless. I had fear but I went along because it was roasting hot outside, and I believed it would be cool in the cave. I had heard that caves run about 55 degrees summer or winter. This cave was more like 80 degrees inside. Cooler, but if you factor in crawling on your stomach and dragging yourself forward, you get even hotter than what you were outside.
We were led by a caving expert. Caves formed as lava tubes are like bowels. They kind of squeeze in and out and so you squeeze in and out. For this reason, we wore caving helmets. You could wind up with a bloody scalp without one, perhaps even a concussion if you misjudged the changing height of the spiked ceiling and moved forward with too much fearlessness.
In this cave I started off standing like a human, then stooping like a Cro-Magnon woman, then walking like a a Cro-Magnon woman with severe osteoporosis, then waddling on haunches like a duck, then crawling like a baby on hands and knees, then slithering like a worm on our stomachs. This worm experience included lots of viscous mud. When my palms, toes, and stomach sank in this stuff I tried to imagine it was brownie mix and not another kind of oozy substance. I am my mother's daughter.
Finally, after what seemed like a mile of crawling (it was probably 1/10th), we reached the end of the cave. The cave expert suggested we turn off the cave lights on her helmets. When we did, everything went pitch black. I had never considered what pitch black meant, but this is it. It was the darkest moment I have ever had. So this is what a worm sees. Sounds were also muffled. There was no electric hum from the world. So this is what it feels to be buried alive.
I began to think about what we think about in the absence of stimuli. What I thought: it would be the perfect atmosphere for me as writer, no stimuli, no distractions, nothing to capture the eye. The imagination is everything. Perhaps I should wear a blindfold before I write and capture that sense of nothingness. I could appreciate that sort of darkness. When I turn off my bedside lamp, I fall asleep and begin to dream. Darkness is good. It is expansive. You see no boundaries. I am sure there is some seminar on inner awareness that has capitalized on this idea. Perhaps they even go into caves to have this awareness. Enlightenment in the dark can be profitable in more ways than one.
Who knows how long we were in total darkness. Time runs differently when you can't see. But after a while, we turned our headlamps back on and saw a cockroach.
3. True darkest moments. The caving experince left me thinking about moments we call "dark" --those involving tragedy. Why do we refer to them as dark? Is being in darkness really such a negative experience? If not, is there another metaphor that is closer to how I feel when I am overcome with despair? Is the sensation that of being lost or of falling? What I feel is a vaccum, of being sucked out alive. I do not picture darkness. I picture who I have lost. Lately I picture my dog. I picture my friend Bill.
So darkness is no longer the word I would use for despair. Not since the cave. I am always trying to go past the usual words used to describe things. The usual words are shortcuts and the impact of what I feel is then placed in a standard-issue box with other cliches. I used to feel as a child that I did not know the words that meant what I felt. I had to write a story to explain what I felt.
I now think that the metaphor of blackness, of darkness, is a good one for starting afresh. In darkness, I wipe away the old forms and asumptions. Time is suspended. Noise is blocked. In blackness, I slither in a place where I have only imagination.
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Abraham Mertens says:
Feeling Small
This blog made me think about the difference between the night sky in the city and in the wilderness. I've spent many nights backpacking, thinking about how much more of the universe there is than what we experience here. Being reminded of our smallness by nature can be transformative. We can be inspired to question the established ways of communicating about the world and established ways of behaving toward nature. Thank you for reminding me of that feeling of smallness and how wonderful it can be.
Abe Mertens
NB says:
Oh the stories a worm could tell
Naomi from Red Room
Clinton Fein says:
Dark Imagination
Although I love swimming in the ocean, even in San Francisco, I have a terrible fear of sharks. Sometimes I'll be swimming, and despite my best efforts, start to think about them, and end up swimming with lightning speed back to the beach, and out of the water as quickly as humanly possible. The adrenaline from that fear, and frantic swimming, leaves me breathless on the beach.
I don't think I could do what you did, surrender yourself to that cave, allow yourself to imagine mud as brownie mix and the like. I don't feel I have enough discipline to temper my imagination enough.
My worst fears, rats in front of my space perhaps, and other such horrors would cause me too much panic, without the ability to swim like hell back to the safety of the beach and away from the unrestrained, undisciplined figments of my imagination.
By the sounds of your experience, I would be scrambling in the dark, trying to get out, smashing my face against unseen walls, missing tunnels, leopard crawling when I could be running or holding my hands out, grasping for any clue that would lead me back to the light.
Maybe I should do it anyway.
Amy Tan says:
Swim to your heart's content
I have just the device for you! It is a shark shield. I am not joking. There is a device by that name. Like you, I can't stop imagining sharks in the ocean. Shark attacks are extremely rare, but among the places where they occur most often is the California coastline. Only one attack every few years puts the fear of --well, shark--in me.
Since I was going to Easter Island and we were all going diving (me, snorkeling), I did some advance research on marine life. Up popped a video of a women being eaten by a great white off Easter Island! She lost her leg and lived to tell about it. I also read in various websites about the famous Birdman tradition of yesteryear on Easter Island In which handsome young men swam through "shark-infested waters" (their description) to retrieve a tern egg and swam back. Those islets with the terns were exactly where we were going to snorkel. And did.
I went between thinking it was ridiculous to get a shark shield to justifying that I would use it in all kinds of places. When we swam in the Galapagos, for example, we actually saw sharks. People told us they did not attack people. The next day we were told we could not snorkel in a certain area where a shark had bitten off a man's nose and fingers.
So I bought the shark shield, which attaches to the ankle and has a 6 foot antennae. You turn it on and it creates an electrical field. Sharks have incredibly sensitive snouts, implanted with ampullae that sense electrical charges. This electrical field, however, is akin to giving them a root canal without anesthesia. They turn away and don't get any closer than about 12 -15 feet. There are videos of this. Pretty cool.
All the snorkel and dive friends on the trip said they weren't concerned about sharks. Nah, no worries. But after I told them that I got the shield, they all said they would like to try it on dives in places with sharks. One woman is a spearfisher and her bloody prey has attracted sharks. Another guy has encountered hammerheads. All the Rapa Nuis I met who surf or dive told me they had seen sharks.
Anyway, I used the shield in Easter Island, even though there were no sharks. There were hardly any fish that day. But I swam without worry. Some abalone divers who are friends said they would borrow it and give me abalone in return. The device is pricey, but with enough trades, I might get my investment back fairly soon.
As for caves, well, I don't know of any cave shields. (It's really not that scary. Just stick to ones that are known entities and skip those that require ropes and mountain gear).
Renjie Wang says:
Shark Zapper
WOW, I have got to let my girlfriend see this device. She loves the ocean, and she loves to swim but she would never swim in the ocean. With the shield, I just need to deal with this little thing called Germ before that I can drag her to swim at my special place where water meets sand.
What a wonderful idea! Some time, these products always draws out the dark humor side of me. On the video where the shark swims away from the person wearing a shield, what if the shark is thinking, “oh great, I think I’m having acid reflux from the guy I ate yesterday, better stay away from these stinkin’ humans”? On the other hand, it could be the self confidence that radiances from you that scares the sharks away. Wearing the shield, sharks must see us as fearless warriors who are determined to kick their teeth in if they ever try anything funny.
On a side note, we jump in their home wearing a device that would zap the star out of them and call it a "shield". I guess that’s just part of the quirks of being the dominating species of the planet: we decide who can bite whom when and where. :P
Thank you sharing your wonderful experience. You have been a true inspiration, can't wait to read more.
Renjie Wang redroom.com
Mary-Katherine Rogers says:
Shanghai Bathtub and Spelunking
Dear Amy:
I started sobbing when I read your paragraph on hope in The Oppostite of Fate as I climbed into my bathtub in Shanghai. Since I have terrible head cold, I just should have put the book down. But no, I continued to read, sobbing as I read about ghosts, coincidences, fate v. faith, and dreams. My dog has been barking like a banshee since we moved to China; my new house is such a disaster I have often wondered if it was constructed over a former cemetary. I really started wailing when I got to the part of your mother moving you all the time in search of happiness because today I made the decision to get out of Glama Villa. (Whether I can do it before CNY remains to be seen). Am I like your mother, thinking a change of scenery might make me happier? Faith and fate are not incompatible in my world.
My own failed/stalled? novel involved caves. It was about an actual murder of a girl in Brazil, where I last lived. My interpretation of caves had to do with a) fear b) blindness (as in Justice) and c) secrets. Caves are an excellent place to commit crimes. Truth, however, is always associated with light, and the light always follows the dark. Yin and yang, as it were.
Thanks for providing excellent entertainment not only today but 'lo these many years. I look forward to reading your blog.
Amanda Postma says:
So much to say...
As you talk about darkness and how it is no longer a word you will used to describe despair, I believe that no matter what words you could have used to describe your moments in the cave, they would never be ones that I would put into a "standard-issue box" because everyone's perspective in moments like that are so different, that your own words are what make the whole experience so unique. Everything from the brownie mix thoughts ( so great! ) to the statement of how "time runs differently when you can't see" - I never really thought of that before but isn't that amazing?
I'm a 26 year old stay at home Mom to a 6 year old daughter. I have read every single book you have written and I continue to read my most favorite ones ( The Bonesetter's Daughter and The Kitchen God's Wife ) all the time. My Grandmother turned me to you a long time ago as you are her favorite author as well. At 68, today she continues to read The Bonesetter's Daughter more than any other book and we always talk about how it has made us admire your writing. I want to thank you for that because it makes us grow closer every single day. Your writings are pure and so real that we like we are right there with the characters each and every time.
I just had to let you know.
Jeannie Brandt-Lietzau says:
Allegory
Ms Tan,
As I was reading this post I was reminded of an old Native American tradition called a spirit quest. Your trip through the cave makes an excellent allegory of what I imagine such a quest to be. I have not gone on such a quest though I have several close friends who have. The quest requires several days of total aloneness, no food and intense inner thoughts. I sadly have not taken the time to do this. I am daunted by the thought of abstaining from food for several days (I am much too fond of my M & M peanuts....I'm sure this issue would come up during any spirit quest I may embark on)
The mission behind this ceremony is to help see life in a better way, a new way. I have been told that left alone and foodless, many parcipants experiance some of their darkest moments. It would seem to me that perhaps the only way to recognise true "light" is to have experianced total darkness.
Perhaps one should focus more on how to "handle" the darkness than in trying to "avoid" the darkness. (Brownie Mix being an excellent example of a coping mechanism ..... in more ways than one :>0
Thanks for the post.....I particularly enjoy your sense of humor.
Jeannie
P.S. As to the lost post......I have had this happen on several occasions. It does elicit a response from me, very similar to your own. I sat down one day at my computer and tried to find ALL the posts that seem to have disappeared. (these are usually the long ones, the ones I sweat over, the ones I spell check and rewrite several times) This endeavor lead me on a quest into darkness from which there was no end in sight, no light at the end of the tunnel, no spot of brightness at the mouth of the cave, so to speak. You have my sympathies !
Kevin Morrison says:
Dark comedy
Love this post. Love.
Perhaps because I am wrestling with a related 'dark' issue, I read this and immediately began wondering about dark comedy. As you say, "I am always trying to go past the usual words to describe things," so I wish there were a convenient shorthand for 'comedy with elements of drama,' or whatever the definition of dark comedy might be. So much everyday laughter is rooted in dramatic events and tragedy -- despair, depression, and sadness -- it seems hard to separate those difficult things from the regular result: laughter. Much laughter.
Perhaps dark comedy is what life is -- full of drama, laughs, tragedy, and chuckles. Of course, if we were to coin the word 'life comedy,' it wouldn't sound nearly as sexy, really, as dark (or black) comedy. But as a word, life comedy is so evocative -- so different than slapstick, teen, and other popular comedy genres -- it appeals to me as a more inclusive descriptor of the human experiences we have each day.
Thanks for the post, Amy!
Susan Benson says:
Thank you
Thank you for thinking and writing -- this combination is rare and priceless! and Happy Birthday on 2/19 if the Internet is to be believed. Me, 2/21, same year. Undoubtedly some astrologically explainable connection of minor importance. Thanks for all the hours of enjoyment and thought provocation over the years! stay well and write more, please.
Kim Hoffman says:
Darkest Moment
Not unlike an isolation tank. Just one and his senses - if he has any. Caving would seem to be a an exciting and valuable sport. Climbing in to the dark, or as Allen Ginsberg put, back into the womb. Caves, caverns, on a symbolic if not unconscious level, are linked to security. As though we come equipped with the almost but not quite forgotten memory of the prenatal experience. Or just as an escape fantasy from our tug of war with reality. What better place to escape into than a cave?
One concealed by a waterfall and complete with warm springs...
Generally what you find you're crawling through is bat guana and and various other forms of slime that cause the civilized mind to reel in horror.
There probably is no escaping reality.
In the army we were taught to dig foxholes. Five or six feet deep, with an seat of earth so you could rest, and at your feet a "grenade sump," so if a grenade was tossed in it would roll several feet into the sump and explode harmlessly. But foxholes like these are next to impossible to construct. The ground is always to hard or too loose and time is at a premium and you have to move on just about the time you done.
Dark is a worrisome creature. Filled with shadows moving, and critters on foot or in the air. It's a good thing we get to sleep at night.
Lisa Polansky says:
Cafe Majestic
Dearest Amy,
I am the former owner of the Cafe Majestic. I have the signed copy you dedicated to my ex husband Tom. I am in a class where I had to write a paper, and your book the Joy Luck Club was on the list. I coudln't resist. I wrote a paper called Amy Tan Put A Voodoo Spell on Me.
Don't mind the title it's actually funny. Somewhat funny.
Anyway I would love to send it to you but I am not sure this is the proper format. I am so glad to have the opportunity to read some of your inner most thoughts.
Respectfully,
Lisa Polansky (Marshall)
Karen Fleming says:
Thank you Amy Tan
'Darkness' for a moment in time can be a nuiscence or it can be enlightning. However perpetual darkness would wreck havoc on the mind, body and spirit of a man.
In silence we can learn to hear, in darkness we can appreciate the light. The darkest times of my life, and there have been plenty in the past few years, has changed my prospective on a number of things I once believed true.
A candle or light on during full sunlight barely seems significant, however as the sun goes down, and pitch blackness comes upon us, the glow from a single candle can light up a whole room.
A painter paints dramatic scenes through using dark vs light. The greater the contrast, the more striking and brilliant the colors appear. The 'darks' are as important, if not moreso than the light.
It is through the dark times in my life that Yesuah has show his light of unfathomable love, tenderness and mercy to me.
Thank you Amy Tan for being such a great 'artist' with words. You may never know how much I've enjoyed reading them, and what pleasure I took in your works, when I could do nothing but ly in my bed and read.