Clutching Ghosts
In her poem “We are a System of Ghosts” (Poet Lore Magazine, Volume III Number 1/2, Spring/Summer 2016, p. 11), Lindsay Tigue speaks of the ghosts of her past.
. . . we tried to find it again, this best-ever place,/but we’d forgotten the sidewalk to turn down, or the way/the restaurant’s awning threw its door frame in shadow.
In literature, ghosts abound: a character much discussed, yet absent from the text; experiences from the past that haunt. My writing hosts ghosts of all kinds, from clutching ghosts (pretas), to the haunting consequences of a character’s mistakes, to illusions (or perhaps truths) of things we‘ve yet to understand.
Pretas are sentient, ghostlike beings afflicted with suffering far beyond that of mere mortals. They endure an eternal hunger, usually for something repugnant, such as human flesh or feces. Preta is one of six possible states of rebirth. Tibetan Buddhism depicts pretas with excruciatingly narrow necks and large, empty bellies. I hope to escape this state of being.
As Lindsay Tigue says, we are “a system of ghosts.” Our personal “triggers” are ghosts, ghosts that can do damage to relationships. I’m haunted by clutter that makes me feel like a hoarder. What we believe to be our past is simply perception; our memories are ghosts. They float down from the rafters, walk our halls. The scent of vanilla cavendish wafts into the den on a cold, drafty night.
