Yes, indifference and empathy do coexist.. For me: a student is injured on a busy playground and we perfunctorily clean them up while eyeing a dozen other kids...it is an ordinary event but there is love in bearing brief witness, even absent-mindedly.
Many thoughts come to me referencing Belgium as we lived there for a few years. Also reading poetry by Auden who was born as I was, in the UK. Countries scarred by war. Context in poetry it seems to me, so relevant when I’m trying to make meaning.
It’s a marvel to me how people live with such loss, of epic proportions.
I do believe there are varying degrees of empathy felt by individuals. I struggle with feeling a lot of empathy for others, and at times have had to learn to not allow all of it in. As without being able to help, can bring me down…or block action I could take to help.
Perhaps ‘indifference’ is that coping strategy we all need. Self preservation? Being numbed by tragedy, or is it the acceptance of love and loss seen as indifference as we “sailed calmly on”?
Gorgeous poem, thank you for sharing. I kept going reading more Auden, and I am in love with the contrast of this poem and Funeral Blues. "stop all the clocks.... the stars aren't wanted now... pack up the moon." It dives into the wells of empathy under the indifference that this poem alludes to. The contrast of life going on as Icarus falls into the sea and the declaration to "pour away the ocean." I don't know if indifference is the right word, but it gets at an interesting idea of our capacity to empathize with humanity vs. individuals. Feels like a silent solidarity.
Does this painting tell us something about Breughel, Auden, or humanity? Auden indeed assumes a lot of things to come up with his interpretation. Had all these people seen Icarus falling, heard his cry? What if Icarus kept silent? What if his heart had stopped long before being close enough to be heard? What if Breughel wanted to talk about significant events going unnoticed, about us being focused and concerned with our own lives? Would we even see a person falling from the sky (before airplanes, even balloons)?
I am all for telling stories around still images, but we tend to tell one story and forget about all the others. I honor Auden's interpretation but do not make it my own. My "Dear, dear Auden ..." would be accompanied by a little head shake.
There is so much suffering happening all over the world, but we would be consumed by grief if we took all of that inside and dwelled on it. The best we can do is help those closest to us who are suffering and need help.
I am a novice at poetry. I don't think I would have understood the author's intent if you wouldn't have prepared us and then debriefed us afterwards, Susan. I hope to some day mine the gold of poetry, as many of you do so easily.
I'd like to answer the question about whether empathy and indifference live within the same heart.
I think it is possible for both to coexist in one heart. But, when they coexist in the same heart it is painful.
I remember visiting Bucharest, Romania for the first time during the winter. I remember being shocked at seeing people stepping over and around people who were sleeping in the streets. I remember judging them so harshly. "How could you be in such a hurry that you don't even notice them?" It hurt my heart so much!
And now I am 30 years older and currently live in a city in California that has quite of lot of people experiencing homelessness. Sometimes I worry for my safety and I resent them leaving "gifts" outside my front door. I do still have great empathy for any person who lives, eats and sleeps in the streets. I worry that I've hardened my heart. Am I indifferent now just like the commuters I experienced in Bucharest? What is indifference? Is protecting ourselves often (or ever) at the cost of seeing the humanity in others?
"Dear, dear Auden..." the poet captures universal suffering that eludes words for us common mortals. Turning a blind eye rather than indifference. A choice made in the face of helplessness? Increasingly with age, I get overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness in the face of overwhelming suffering. We cannot unring the bell, un-see what we've seen. In meditation practice we acknowledge the presence of troubling thoughts, thank them for visiting and let them go. Dear Susan, immensely grateful for you and your sharing!
My first thought after reading this poem was to wonder if our own wonderful Billy Collins was influenced by Auden. I think they write in a similar vein.
The poem also reminded me of something I read recently (probably by Thich Nhat Hanh or Epictetus, I can't remember which) about being careful not to take another's pain as our own. I think it's all too common for highly sensitive people to feel another person's pain so deeply that we are overwhelmed with the amount of pain in our lives. It's important to be empathic but also to maintain some emotional boundaries for our own well-being. Easier said than done, I know, but I'm (slowly) getting better at it!
I love this poem as well for its succinct way of capturing and even adding to the depth of Brueghel’s painting. The “greats,”Auden included, saw that tragedy was a daily occurrence. Although the crucifixion and the fall of Icarus are exceptional stories of suffering, those events happened alongside the man ploughing and the “doggy doing doggy things.” Suffering occurs around us and we aren’t even aware. And suffering occurs but we still have to keep living, ploughing, fishing because we aren’t immortal and we can’t help everyone at every moment.
I also like how Auden named his poem Musee de Beaux Arts, maybe as a comment on how artists and poets like himself try to fly like Icarus but fail everyday, without the world noticing their striving… because that is humanity. “Dear, dear Auden” likely suffered without others around him being aware… thus he can have empathy for all those who aren’t center stage in life’s tragedies. I love this perspective of having empathy even for those who seem indifferent. Thank you for sharing this, Susan!
I’m not certain that the witnesses were indifferent. They could also be afraid. Of falling themselves, or doing something wrong. Or feel powerless/helpless, or paralyzed by some other triggered reaction. They are behind some safe barrier they’ve constructed. However, that doesn’t make them (us) blameless, and I appreciate Auden - and the masters- addressing something we struggle with everyday
I struggled for a while reading this poem and the moment I thought I let it pass, a thought popped up in my mind, thinking; this is about growing pains and I am asking myself if the word 'behold' fits better then 'indifference'? In behold I can sense the wells of life, indifference feels cold and icy; uncaring.
Gosh so much is in these words. I sense the continuation of life despite the ending of life all wrapped into one. The special way we look at events and feel differently if we are just beginning our path, or ending it. That even that child that dreaded a new sibling, will awe at the miracle later in life when that child is from a descendant of their our own making. To me the dear, dear Auden is just that there is so much to contemplate, and where should we the reader begin.
On this Veteran's Day, this poem reminds me of my father and his many brothers who fought in World War II. They came back hardened because men had to toughen up, steel up their spines and move on. He was a pretty awful father to me and my brothers and for quite some time, my heart felt nothing for him other than resentment. But reflection took hold, and I pictured him bandaging up fellow soldiers on the beaches of the Philippines, wondering if he'd be next. I wished for me and my brothers that we had a better dad. But I am now crushed thinking that at age 18, my father as a boy had to witness the horrors of war. He often said he always wanted to work on a boat somewhere. I sensed his longing for freedom. All I wish for him today is that he has found more peaceful waters out there in the universe. Susan, thank you for sharing Auden with us.
What does “Dear, dear Auden” mean to you, now that you’ve read his words?
Dear, dear Auden. Across the years and across the ocean that separated us, I feel you. I understand you. I see you. And I feel seen and understood by you. Through our common and shared humanity, your words open and pierce my soul. You put beautiful thoughts - that are felt by both of us and probably most people - into such achingly beautiful clarity. I weep because I wasn't able to meet you and further explore these thoughts - maybe in the next life?
Yes, indifference and empathy do coexist.. For me: a student is injured on a busy playground and we perfunctorily clean them up while eyeing a dozen other kids...it is an ordinary event but there is love in bearing brief witness, even absent-mindedly.
Oh, the white legs of Icarus.
Many thoughts come to me referencing Belgium as we lived there for a few years. Also reading poetry by Auden who was born as I was, in the UK. Countries scarred by war. Context in poetry it seems to me, so relevant when I’m trying to make meaning.
It’s a marvel to me how people live with such loss, of epic proportions.
I do believe there are varying degrees of empathy felt by individuals. I struggle with feeling a lot of empathy for others, and at times have had to learn to not allow all of it in. As without being able to help, can bring me down…or block action I could take to help.
Perhaps ‘indifference’ is that coping strategy we all need. Self preservation? Being numbed by tragedy, or is it the acceptance of love and loss seen as indifference as we “sailed calmly on”?
Gorgeous poem, thank you for sharing. I kept going reading more Auden, and I am in love with the contrast of this poem and Funeral Blues. "stop all the clocks.... the stars aren't wanted now... pack up the moon." It dives into the wells of empathy under the indifference that this poem alludes to. The contrast of life going on as Icarus falls into the sea and the declaration to "pour away the ocean." I don't know if indifference is the right word, but it gets at an interesting idea of our capacity to empathize with humanity vs. individuals. Feels like a silent solidarity.
Does this painting tell us something about Breughel, Auden, or humanity? Auden indeed assumes a lot of things to come up with his interpretation. Had all these people seen Icarus falling, heard his cry? What if Icarus kept silent? What if his heart had stopped long before being close enough to be heard? What if Breughel wanted to talk about significant events going unnoticed, about us being focused and concerned with our own lives? Would we even see a person falling from the sky (before airplanes, even balloons)?
I am all for telling stories around still images, but we tend to tell one story and forget about all the others. I honor Auden's interpretation but do not make it my own. My "Dear, dear Auden ..." would be accompanied by a little head shake.
There is so much suffering happening all over the world, but we would be consumed by grief if we took all of that inside and dwelled on it. The best we can do is help those closest to us who are suffering and need help.
I am a novice at poetry. I don't think I would have understood the author's intent if you wouldn't have prepared us and then debriefed us afterwards, Susan. I hope to some day mine the gold of poetry, as many of you do so easily.
I'd like to answer the question about whether empathy and indifference live within the same heart.
I think it is possible for both to coexist in one heart. But, when they coexist in the same heart it is painful.
I remember visiting Bucharest, Romania for the first time during the winter. I remember being shocked at seeing people stepping over and around people who were sleeping in the streets. I remember judging them so harshly. "How could you be in such a hurry that you don't even notice them?" It hurt my heart so much!
And now I am 30 years older and currently live in a city in California that has quite of lot of people experiencing homelessness. Sometimes I worry for my safety and I resent them leaving "gifts" outside my front door. I do still have great empathy for any person who lives, eats and sleeps in the streets. I worry that I've hardened my heart. Am I indifferent now just like the commuters I experienced in Bucharest? What is indifference? Is protecting ourselves often (or ever) at the cost of seeing the humanity in others?
"Dear, dear Auden..." the poet captures universal suffering that eludes words for us common mortals. Turning a blind eye rather than indifference. A choice made in the face of helplessness? Increasingly with age, I get overwhelmed by feelings of helplessness in the face of overwhelming suffering. We cannot unring the bell, un-see what we've seen. In meditation practice we acknowledge the presence of troubling thoughts, thank them for visiting and let them go. Dear Susan, immensely grateful for you and your sharing!
My first thought after reading this poem was to wonder if our own wonderful Billy Collins was influenced by Auden. I think they write in a similar vein.
The poem also reminded me of something I read recently (probably by Thich Nhat Hanh or Epictetus, I can't remember which) about being careful not to take another's pain as our own. I think it's all too common for highly sensitive people to feel another person's pain so deeply that we are overwhelmed with the amount of pain in our lives. It's important to be empathic but also to maintain some emotional boundaries for our own well-being. Easier said than done, I know, but I'm (slowly) getting better at it!
I love this poem as well for its succinct way of capturing and even adding to the depth of Brueghel’s painting. The “greats,”Auden included, saw that tragedy was a daily occurrence. Although the crucifixion and the fall of Icarus are exceptional stories of suffering, those events happened alongside the man ploughing and the “doggy doing doggy things.” Suffering occurs around us and we aren’t even aware. And suffering occurs but we still have to keep living, ploughing, fishing because we aren’t immortal and we can’t help everyone at every moment.
I also like how Auden named his poem Musee de Beaux Arts, maybe as a comment on how artists and poets like himself try to fly like Icarus but fail everyday, without the world noticing their striving… because that is humanity. “Dear, dear Auden” likely suffered without others around him being aware… thus he can have empathy for all those who aren’t center stage in life’s tragedies. I love this perspective of having empathy even for those who seem indifferent. Thank you for sharing this, Susan!
I’m not certain that the witnesses were indifferent. They could also be afraid. Of falling themselves, or doing something wrong. Or feel powerless/helpless, or paralyzed by some other triggered reaction. They are behind some safe barrier they’ve constructed. However, that doesn’t make them (us) blameless, and I appreciate Auden - and the masters- addressing something we struggle with everyday
I struggled for a while reading this poem and the moment I thought I let it pass, a thought popped up in my mind, thinking; this is about growing pains and I am asking myself if the word 'behold' fits better then 'indifference'? In behold I can sense the wells of life, indifference feels cold and icy; uncaring.
Such bittersweet truth in this poem. We are all mere Stardust, aren’t we?
I’ve been in a writing group for cancer patients for the better part of the last four years and the rhythm of life and death is inescapable.
The poem reminds me to pause and remember - make some meaning of it all. Thank you for sharing this.
Gosh so much is in these words. I sense the continuation of life despite the ending of life all wrapped into one. The special way we look at events and feel differently if we are just beginning our path, or ending it. That even that child that dreaded a new sibling, will awe at the miracle later in life when that child is from a descendant of their our own making. To me the dear, dear Auden is just that there is so much to contemplate, and where should we the reader begin.
such an existential poem. thanks for sharing Susan.
indifference and empathy can coexist. paradoxes are part of the human condition after all.
to me “dear dear Auden” by your co-worker sounds like - a gently bittersweet way of saying “yes…this”.
On this Veteran's Day, this poem reminds me of my father and his many brothers who fought in World War II. They came back hardened because men had to toughen up, steel up their spines and move on. He was a pretty awful father to me and my brothers and for quite some time, my heart felt nothing for him other than resentment. But reflection took hold, and I pictured him bandaging up fellow soldiers on the beaches of the Philippines, wondering if he'd be next. I wished for me and my brothers that we had a better dad. But I am now crushed thinking that at age 18, my father as a boy had to witness the horrors of war. He often said he always wanted to work on a boat somewhere. I sensed his longing for freedom. All I wish for him today is that he has found more peaceful waters out there in the universe. Susan, thank you for sharing Auden with us.
What does “Dear, dear Auden” mean to you, now that you’ve read his words?
Dear, dear Auden. Across the years and across the ocean that separated us, I feel you. I understand you. I see you. And I feel seen and understood by you. Through our common and shared humanity, your words open and pierce my soul. You put beautiful thoughts - that are felt by both of us and probably most people - into such achingly beautiful clarity. I weep because I wasn't able to meet you and further explore these thoughts - maybe in the next life?