Completely without

Bereft: the simple past tense form of 'to bereave'. To be without something necessary or desirable. The lack of distinction between 'necessary' and 'desirable' pinpoints the difficulty in overcoming this wholly palpable feeling. Not only do you want it, you need it. And it is gone.

I thought I would give a go at describing the sense of despair so empty, so complete, that you are capable of thinking in only Nietzsche-inspired phrases that catapult you back to early university and the discomfort of 20 years of age. Thankfully, Robert Frost saved us all from that particular fate, with his ever-rich words:

Bereft

Where had I heard this wind before
Change like this to a deeper roar?
What would it take my standing there for,
Holding open a restive door,
Looking down hill to a frothy shore?
Summer was past and the day was past.
Sombre clouds in the west were massed.
Out on the porch's sagging floor,
Leaves got up in a coil and hissed,
Blindly struck at my knee and missed.
Something sinister in the tone
Told me my secret must be known:
Word I was in the house alone
Somehow must have gotten abroad,
Word I was in my life alone,
Word I had no one left but God. 

- Robert Frost

Arctic

Recently, I was asked to comment on my impression of 'arctic design'. That was the only information I was given: no preamble, no context, just a solicitation for an immediate impression of what that term evokes.

This photo came to mind: stark, muted colours with almost unreal contrasting, neon shades. Strange and ethereal light and tones in a grey expanse.



Also textures, especially extremely contrasting textures. Pale blue ice against creamy sheepskin (or baby seal fur), for example. Hard, cold glass against the roughness of technical outerwear that scratches your face, with a zipper that pinches the soft part under your next, unless it is protected by cloud-soft fleecy stuff.

When I think arctic, or just about very cold places, I also think of the Swedish version of the movie, ‘Let the Right One In’. Not to say the arctic leads me to think of vampires, but there is a certain desolate feeling that the movie has that I imagine to be part of the far north.

In spite of the specific beauty of the cold and the north, I am happy to be inside with wool socks, tea and simmering soup during this, one of the coldest winters in local memory.