Remembrance

Painting by Anselm Kiefer

Today at sundown marks the Jewish holiday Yom HaShoah, Holocaust remembrance day, commemorating those who perished and the heroism of rescuers and survivors. It also is a reminder of those who are persecuted today simply because of who they are. How does this day, remembering unfathomable human cruelty and the horrific consequences of science, and industrialized mass planning and coordination directed towards the darkest of purposes, relate to nature? What can we possibly learn about the power of nature in this context?

In Man's Search for Meaning, published in 1946, Victor Frankl described his experiences as a concentration camp prisoner during World War II. Frankl was a psychiatrist, and his agonizing situation provided a vantage point for observing how people reacted to extreme, dire circumstances. In this context, he perceived ways of thinking that facilitated survival, namely identifying a purpose in life that enabled positive thoughts and deeply imagining that outcome.

While reading the book recently, I was struck by Frankl's references to prisoners' observations of nature--how a glimpse of nature could offer a small tonic.
Below are several such excerpts, from Ilse Lasch's translation. I reference these not to suggest that nature somehow negated the unfathomable atrocities experienced by concentration camp prisoners or others in extreme dire situations. Yet, it is noteworthy that during such dark times nature awareness was helpful, if only as a distraction from one's immediate horrific circumstances. If nature awareness can be helpful in the most extreme of circumstances, one wonders how it can assist those of us encountering life's more benign ups and downs:

"As the inner life of the prisoner tended to become more intense, he also experienced the beauty of art and nature as never before. Under their influence he sometimes even forgot his own frightful circumstances. If someone had seen our faces on the journey from Auschwitz to a Bavarian camp as we beheld the mountains of Salzburg with their summits glowing in the sunset, through the little barred windows of the prison carriage, he would never have believed that those were the faces of men who had given up all hope of life and liberty. Despite that factor--or maybe because of it--we were carried away by nature's beauty, which we had missed for so long." (p. 39-40)

"One evening, when we were already resting on the floor of our hut, dead tired, soup bowls in hand, a fellow prisoner rushed in and asked us to run out to the assembly grounds and see the wonderful sunset. Standing outside we saw sinister clouds glowing in the west and the whole sky alive with clouds of ever-changing shapes and colors, from steel blue to blood red. The desolate grey mud huts provided a sharp contrast, while the puddles on the muddy ground reflected the glowing sky. Then after minutes of moving silence, one prisoner said to another, 'how beautiful the world could be!'" (p. 40)

"Pointing through the window of the hut, [a young woman] said, 'This tree here is the only friend I have in my loneliness.' Through that window she could see just one branch of a chestnut tree, and on the branch were two blossoms. 'I often talk to this tree,' she said to me. I was startled and didn't quite know how to take her words. Was she delirious? Did she have occasional hallucinations? Anxiously I asked her if the tree replied. 'Yes' What did it say to her? She answered, 'It said to me, '"I am here--I am here--I am life, eternal life.'"'(p. 69)

Next time you feel the blues coming on, or that sharp sense of worry, see if you can notice nature--perhaps the leaves of a potted office plant, a view of the sky outside a window, or a bird chirping rhythmically in the background as you walk along a busy street. See whether noticing the natural world beyond yourself changes your emotional sense, if only for a little while.

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