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SUNDAY NIGHT FEELINGS
A weekly collection of delightful, devastating, disturbing things.

08.16.2015

ON PARENTS

"You're 26," my parents said when they last saw me. "No more birthday presents." They had sat me down formally to say this; the gravity of their tone made me laugh.

It would seem that 26 is when the tables turn—it is my turn to care for them, to pamper and indulge. I am happy to do so. Traditions, however arbitrarily determined, are the only roots I have.

“The mother is extremely important in jihadist Islam. Mohammed said, ‘Paradise lies at the feet of mothers.’ You have to ask her permission to go on jihad or to say goodbye.”
— Mothers of Isis

UNKNOWN GIRL IN THE MATERNITY WARD
—ANNE SEXTON

A devastating poem on giving up a child.

At first hunger is not wrong.

The nurses nod their caps; you are shepherded

down starch halls with the other unnested throng

in wheeling baskets. You tip like a cup; your head

moving to my touch. You sense the way we belong.

But this is an institution bed.

You will not know me very long.

L IVING WITH MY MOTHER'S MENTAL ILLNESS
—FARIHA RÓISÍN

I would have never had the courage to publish this piece and I'm so glad Fariha did. It's such a brave, beautiful piece.

If I could pause that moment in time, pause it in the stillness where we're all just molecules hanging in the air, vibrating to the sound of fury. It's like a dream-like interruption of our reality, the one where we're all playing our part in our masterful charade--the one where we're a family. She's ruining that façade, cutting though the air around our bodies, and as it happens I realize that there's no going back. We've passed a certain threshold. You can't go back to trying to be normal when something like this happens. Where do you even begin to start?

COMPOST
—DAN CHELOTTI

One of my new favourites to read, and a stunner of a poem on life and decay.

Pretty, Selma said.

Yes, I said. And underneath my yes

Another yes, the yes to my body,

Just beginning to show signs

Of slack, and another, my grasping

In the dark for affirming flesh

That in turn says yes, yes

Let’s rot together but not until

We’ve drained what sap

Is left in these trees.

Photographer Documenting the Homeless Discovers Her Own Father Among Them

I couldn't handle this.

M OTHERS OF ISIS
—JULIA IOFFE

Before you read this make sure you are emotionally prepared to do so. But when you are, take the time—it's a gut-wrenching and beautifully reported piece.

...mothers and fathers who lose children to jihadist movements tend to deal with their grief in very different ways. The fathers often withdraw into feelings of guilt and shame: They have a hard time admitting to outsiders that their parenting was in any way lacking. The mothers do the opposite. They are hungry to share their sorrow with others, to plunge themselves into the world their child inhabited, to gather as much information as they can. It is their way of gaining a tiny measure of control over the unfathomable.

Kumi Yamashita creates these beautiful textile paintings by removing threads from the fabric, which is a fascinating process to me. This one's called Mother No. 2.

PERSIMMONS
—LI-YOUNG LEE

A poem that leaves a ripe sweetness on your tongue.

Finally understanding

he was going blind,

my father sat up all one night

waiting for a song, a ghost.

I gave him the persimmons,

swelled, heavy as sadness,

and sweet as love.

What is your first memory that includes your parents? Mine: walking through a snowy field in China with my mother, wearing a polka dotted snow suit. I had just peed my pants.

Happy Sunday,
Tracy

Friends help friends feel feels ➥

SUNDAY NIGHT FEELINGS A weekly collection of delightful, devastating, disturbing things.

08.16.2015

ON PARENTS

“The mother is extremely important in jihadist Islam. Mohammed said, ‘Paradise lies at the feet of mothers.’ You have to ask her permission to go on jihad or to say goodbye.” — Mothers of Isis

UNKNOWN GIRL IN THE MATERNITY WARD —ANNE SEXTON

LIVING WITH MY MOTHER'S MENTAL ILLNESS —FARIHA RÓISÍN

COMPOST —DAN CHELOTTI

Photographer Documenting the Homeless Discovers Her Own Father Among Them I couldn't handle this.

MOTHERS OF ISIS —JULIA IOFFE