#jeanette winterson
If haunting is anything, perhaps that’s what it is; time in the wrong place.
Jeanette Winterson, from ‘As Strong As Death’ published in ‘Eight Ghosts: The English Heritage Book of New Ghost Stories’
“Without love what does humanness mean?”— Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries
“I have noticed that when all the lights are on, people tend to talk about what they are doing – their outer lives. Sitting round in candlelight or firelight, people start to talk about how they are feeling – their inner lives. They speak subjectively, they argue less, there are longer pauses. To sit alone without any electric light is curiously creative. I have my best ideas at dawn or at nightfall, but not if I switch on the lights – then I start thinking about projects, deadlines, demands, and the shadows and shapes of the house become objects, not suggestions, things that need to done, not a background to thought.”—Why I adore the night, by Jeanette Winterson
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“We looked at each other, afraid to speak, afraid to load our feelings into words in case the words cracked and split. I pinned my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Hold in, hold in, one crack and the wall is breached.”—Jeanette Winterson,Gut Symmetries
Jeanette Winterson, Written on the Body (1992)
“Call it a wild perversity or a wild optimism, but they were right, our ancestors, to celebrate what they feared. What I fear I avoid. What I fear I pretend does not exist. What I fear is quietly killing me. Would there be a festival for my fears, a ritual burning of what is coward in me, what is lost in me. Let the light in before it is too late.”—Jeanette Winterson, “The Green Man” | The World and Other Places: Stories
“We’re here, there, not here, not there, swirling like specks of dust, claiming for ourselves the rights of the universe. Being important, being nothing, being caught in lives of our own making that we never wanted. Breaking out, trying again, wondering why the past comes with us, wondering how to talk about the past at all.”—Jeanette Winterson, from Lighthousekeeping
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onlight
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Jeanette Winterson, Lighthousekeeping
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson / Ladder
Our primary meaning [of the word happiness] now is the feeling of pleasure and contentment; a buzz, a zestiness, the tummy upwards feel of good and right and relaxed and alive… you know…
But earlier meanings build in the hap - in Middle English, that is ‘happ’, in Old English, 'gehapp’ - the chance or fortune, good or bad, that falls to you. Hap is your lot in life, the hand you are given to play.
How you meet your 'hap’ will determine whether or not you can be 'happy’.
What the Americans, in their constitution, call 'the right to the pursuit of happiness’ (please note, not 'the right to happiness’), is the right to swim upstream, salmon-wise.
Pursuing happiness, and I did, and I still do, is not all the same as being happy - which I think is fleeting, dependent on circumstances, and a bit bovine.
If the sun is shining, stand in it - yes, yes, yes. Happy times are great, but happy times pass - they have to - because time passes.
The pursuit of happiness is more elusive; it is life-long, and it is not goal-centred.
What you are pursuing is meaning - a meaningful life. There’s the hap - the fate, the draw that is yours, and it isn’t fixed, but changing the course of the stream, or dealing new cards, whatever metaphor you want to use - that’s going to take a lot of energy. There are times when it will go so wrong that you will barely be alive, and times when you realise that being barely alive, on your own terms, is better than living a bloated half-life on someone else’s terms.
The pursuit isn’t all or nothing - it’s all AND nothing. Like all Quest Stories.
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson / Tree in an abandoned building, Boston
When peope say that poetry is a luxury, or an option, or for the educated middle classes, or that it shouldn’t be read at school because it is irrelevant, or any of the strange things that are said about poetry and its place in our lives, I suspect that the people doing the saying have had things pretty easy. A tough life needs a tough language - and that is what poetry is. That is what literature offers - a language powerful enough to say how it is.
It isn’t a hiding place. It’s a finding place.
Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal? by Jeanette Winterson / Faded Mural in Essaouira
Creative work bridges time because the energy of art is not time-bound. If it were we should have no interest in the art of the past, except as history or documentary. But our interest in art is our interest in ourselves, both now and always. Here and forever. There is a sense of the human spirit as always existing. This makes our own death bearable. Life + art is a boisterous communion/communication with the dead. It is a boxing match with time. I like the line in T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets - ‘that which is only living/Can only die’. That’s time’s arrow, the flight from womb to tomb. But life is more than an arrow.
“Call it a wild perversity or a wild optimism, but they were right, our ancestors, to celebrate what they feared. What I fear I avoid. What I fear I pretend does not exist. What I fear is quietly killing me. Would there be a festival for my fears, a ritual burning of what is coward in me, what is lost in me. Let the light in before it is too late.”—Jeanette Winterson, “The Green Man” | The World and Other Places: Stories
“The desire to be loved is the last illusion. Give it up and you will be free.”
— Margaret Atwood