We are beings with memories. Much of our melancholy, of our fado, resides in the nostalgia for what has passed or what could have been.
There is no human existence without losses. It is impossible to live without this realization plaguing us. Hence comes the natural melancholy that characterizes the human species, this sadness that inhabits us.
As Joke J. Hermsen states in his book Melancholy in troubled times, «melancholy is a state of mind that unites us across physical and temporal boundaries. It is difficult to find a historical period or a culture without traces of melancholy feelings».
Being melancholy or being melancholy is not necessarily bad or negative. It's like boredom. Both are necessary for a healthy existence. We need to stop. Do nothing to enjoy the movement; we only cherish the light if we are faced with the darkness; we only realize the importance of freedom if we are forced to cover our faces, to cover our hair.
It is the contrasts, in balance, that give color to our existence.
The becoming of time. Childhood loss. Absence of those who no longer walk by our side, missing family members, friends who now live only in our hearts. The memory of what we once were. The uncertainty of a future that is just a dream. All this makes us naturally melancholy.
Melancholy is the sun half-clouded, shy rays of light emerging to the sound of birds chirping; it's staying at home on a rainy day with the cat cuddled in your lap. It is the solitary swan that glides elegantly on the lake. It's being stopped in traffic and watching the stranger in the car next door singing the same song.
Melancholy is also a creative force. It can be the visceral energy of the writer. Is there more creative depth in sadness or joy? Let the poets say. Melancholy when it runs free, wild, without ties, is a pure path of imagination.
The problem lies in the imbalance. In this case, we jump from healthy to pathological melancholy, the one that makes us close the windows and doors to the world. The endless sadness that darkens the soul, depression. The thread may be too thin and not withstand the strains of life.
In this month, which marks World Mental Health Day, it is important to address these issues, bring them to awareness.
We are sad, melancholy, because we have lost so much in one life, but we need to continue to find beauty in sadness. And in poetry.
The Abandoned Rain Falls
The abandoned rain falls
to my melancholy,
the melancholy of nothing
which is all that is created in us.
Strange memory of yore
I don't know it and it's there.
In me by itself it lingers
and nothing in me allows it
what reason tells me.
But reason is limit
than has occasion
to deny what stares at me
where is my mansion from
which is a mansion in the limitless.
Far and high I am
and that's just where I am.
Vergílio Ferreira, in 'Account 1'
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