Hiraeth and the American Nostalgia for the Past

 

I have yet to find anyone who doesn't wish to return to life "the way we were," pre-pandemic. Losses big and small fill our mental lists, the life we've missed, the one to which we long to return. Well, friends, there's actually a word for this feeling. Grief over irretrievable loss is covered quite dramatically by the word hiraeth, pronounced (he rath,  with a roll of the r), and it has an interesting history.

Hiraeth is a Welsh word that cannot be translated easily into English. It is a longing for the past with a blend of nostalgia and homesickness, a deep feeling that something may possibly not be able to be reclaimed. Added to this yearning is the concept of place, time and people that may never be recovered. The British have been accused of having tried to replace the Welsh culture. When a country takes control of another one, the invader attempts to dismantle the culture of the attacked and establish their own language and customs. This is what happened when the English King Edward I conquered Wales in the 13th Century, yet the Welsh never forgot the stories linked to their land, their language and folk tales that have kept the ancient culture close. Wales became part of the Kingdom of Great Britain in 1707 and the UK in 1801. Over time, the Welsh, however, retained their language and culture despite heavy English dominance. When the Welsh immigrated to America in the 17th Century and Australia in the 18th Century, 40% of them returned to Wales, homesick for the land of their birth. 

                                                                    King Edward I

We in the United States, much like citizens of every other country in this pandemic, want life to return to the normal we think we once knew, yet the hiraeth we might feel is miniscule compared to the Welsh who were asked to give up their language and way of life.  Returning to these elements of our culture that we have lost, however, may not actually result in the kind of progress we need. Change is not new to us. Every aspect of life in the U.S. has been challenged by several wars and by social developments, which many of us remember from the 1960s, and the speed at which they are occurring has increased. While growth is certainly beneficial and necessary for an egalitarian society, it does not come without a price. The fact is, people do not like change, especially if they exist as a privileged segment of society. Maybe we shouldn't want to "go home again" in light of the injustice  that disadvantaged populations have suffered.

Our nostalgic view of how good things used to be is a privilege for very few people. What we can do to preserve the past we loved is to embrace the good and discard what simply no longer works, is no longer acceptable in a free and just society. Should we not engage in hiraeth? Although I personally have wonderful memories, many experiences that have taught me valuable lessons, and few regrets, I don't want to retrieve everything that is gone. I learned long ago, probably raising children, that the future holds so much promise and so many possibilities for an even better life. And let's not forget, we have a choice.

We love to romanticize the past, don't we, and there's plenty of evidence of that in our movies and books, greeting cards, Face Book memes, and advertising/marketing schemes, particularly around the holidays. When we don't know how to move forward, we long for the past when things seemed better. Unfortunately, this behavior of romanticizing the past has kept women and people of color in their historical place without moving us forward.

Psychologists tell us that the way to rectify how we view loss is to reframe our negative thoughts into more helpful, believable, positive ones. In other words, change our perspective and be willing to do the work this requires. No one is saying grieving isn't a process, but when does it end and how gracefully can we get through it? What we don't want to do is relive the misery that accompanied the loss, which is in itself a kind of revolution that we aren't quite ready to accept. Use a little psychology on yourself and picture the loss in a different way. Change, after all, is just another opportunity for a second chance, and who doesn't love second chances? 

 

Namaste, I Bow to You

 I don't know when I began clasping palms together over my heart and bowing, but it suddenly occurred to me that I had intentionally been doing this for years, and as soon as I heard my new blog post word, namaste (nah-mus-tay), I knew why. You might now be wondering why a woman with English/Irish-French-German heritage who doesn't do yoga would find the act of bowing that defines namaste an important part of her habits as well as her psyche. Let me explain.

First, the use and meaning of namaste evolved from Sanskrit, "I bow to you," and it is usually said with palms together at the heart while bowing. In Middle Eastern and Eastern countries it is often a simple greeting of hello. Your yoga teacher might conclude each session by saying namaste, for it represents the act of gratitude and respect, acknowledging souls in each other. In America most people use their words without the concomitant bow--hello, how are you? Namaste goes quite a bit farther.

Second, let me assure the reader that you can still express your greeting, appreciation, deep connection to someone without palms-over-heart bowing. For me, however, and perhaps for you, too, living a symbolic life involves a deeper participation, one that this most sincere act not only represents but also enables--a stronger, more resilient connection to the recipient, be it human, beast, or plant. It is with deep gratitude that I say namaste to the person who has greatly improved my life, to the wild and domestic animals in my life that have brought me joy, and to every green tree and plant in my garden that has touched my soul with peace and with comfort. How quickly and effortlessly am I able to say to each, "I bow to you."

Another Sanskrit word, heart chakra, is believed to act as an individual's center of compassion, empathy, love, and forgiveness, and yet the heart is, in every world culture, the center of being, of compassion, of love, of truth, and generosity. Wisdom tradition tells us clearly that we are all one when we live from the heart.

Sanskrit, the origin of namaste and chakra, is 4,000 years old (some say 6,000). So, let's just say we've known about the concepts of the heart--gratitude, respect, compassion, forgiveness, love, and so on, long enough to know them well. The question, then, that completely baffles me is why we often do everything in our power to resist these feelings, knowing we are all one when we live from the heart.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book based on a radio series in 1960 called The Four Loves. He explains these four loves--affection, friendship, romantic, and charity, but concludes that charity (also known as agape) is our chief aim and all other forms of love are in training to become charity. Agape love is the highest form of love--unconditional love, the love of God for humankind. Christians are taught agape love in 1st Corinthians 13 (The New King James Version):

Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become as sounding brass or a clanging cymbal.

And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 

Paul goes on to describe what love is and what it isn't, and he ends his letter to the Corinthians in this way:

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known.

And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.

When we bow to each other and say namaste, we acknowledge the divine spark, the divine connection in each other that can become agape love because it invites us to connect to truth. C.S. Lewis wrote that love is worth the sorrow and the pain we must endure.

Are these just words, read or heard and quickly forgotten? Words we hear that are often read at weddings? Or are they words we must live by, regardless of religion because they apply to all of humanity?

Turn on the news at almost any time of day or night, and you will know these words are too often lost on us. But I am the eternal optimist, for, as seeds sown in early spring, something bigger than ourselves will grow if we nurture it. Let it be love for all of humanity, especially those of us who are broken and in greatest need of love. Perhaps even nations, divided and struggling in sorrow and pain.

Namaste, my friends.