Forget

by Czeslaw Milosz

English version by Robert Hass
Original Language Polish

Forget the suffering
You caused others.
Forget the suffering
Others caused you.
The waters run and run,
Springs sparkle and are done,
You walk the earth you are forgetting.

Sometimes you hear a distant refrain.
What does it mean, you ask, who is singing?
A childlike sun grows warm.
A grandson and a great-grandson are born.
You are led by the hand once again.

The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.

-- from New and Collected Poems 1931 - 2001, by Czeslaw Milosz

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/ Photo by Scott Cresswell /


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Commentary by Ivan M. Granger

Apologies about missing Friday's email. I needed a day of recuperation. Feeling much better this week!

--

There's something so healing about today's poem. It's strange to speak of the healing power of forgetting, but there's something here for us to consider.

Have you ever heard someone say, "I can forgive, but I can't forget"? That is a person who hasn't yet learned to forgive. Perhaps that person isn't yet ready to forgive but doesn't want to admit it. For some hurts, forgiveness cannot be rushed. But it must, on some level, remain the goal. And to achieve forgiveness, one must forget in a certain sense.

No one truly forgets any experience. But we can mean different things when we speak of forgetting. We can choose willful blindness. This is what the person who says he won't forget is trying to avoid, but usually what they are choosing to do is to nurse old hurts in secret, deriving a sense of purpose in continued suffering.

There is another kind of forgetting that isn't forgetting: that is to let go of the repeating cycle of internal dialog and its associated hot, binding emotions. To do so is an unbearable affront to the ego's sense of self-importance. It requires humility, perhaps even weariness. To let go in this way makes us feel temporarily vulnerable. We usually carry our wounds like shields, imagining that surrounding ourselves with past hurts fortifies us against future injury. The truth is less direct and more elegant: Those shield walls built of past pains trap us, limit our movement, limit our interaction with the rich drama of life. Letting go of those hurts frees us to more dynamically experience life, while simultaneously allowing us to better recognize and avoid those future hurts. Put simply, the more shielded the heart is with remembered hurts, the less the it feels and knows and delights.

Don't you just feel your breath returning, your chest relaxing, your heart coming alive once again?

A good reminder to myself as much as anyone: No one makes it through this life without acquiring some hurts. The well lived life is not one that has avoided pain; it is one that has integrated that pain along with its delights and discoveries, and in that rich mixture seen the lineaments of its own face.

Of course, seeing this, we see something much bigger than we imagined ourselves to be. At the threshold of such an immense vision of Self, we fall mute.



Recommended Books: Czeslaw Milosz

New and Collected Poems 1931 - 2001 The Collected Poems Against Forgetting: Twentieth-Century Poetry of Witness To Begin Where I Am: The Selected Prose of Czeslaw Milosz A Treatise on Poetry
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Forget