Travelling Through the Heart of Darkness to Reach a Far Green Country

You may recognize my title as fragments of quotes from two writers.

In “The Return of the King,” J.R.R. Tolkien wrote, “The journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back and all turns to silver glass. And then you see it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.” So spoke Gandalf, the great wizard, to the Hobbit, Pippin, at what seemed like the end of their world in the white city, Minas Tirith. The city was under attack, many of their friends were far away, the evil Sauron seemed in the ascendant, and hope was dead. It was a very dark time and place for them right there, but Gandalf saw beyond the moment.

Joseph Conrad, in his book “Heart of Darkness” wrote about the evils perpetuated in a Belgian colony of Africa, though the story begins on the great river that flows through London. “The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemed condensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth. . . ‘And this also,’ said Marlow, ‘has been one of the dark places of the earth.’” The story, continues, eventually taking us to the Congo and down the river into another darkness. As we journey with Marlow through the story, we eventually meet Kurtz, an ivory trader who has set himself up as a god, and who is now ill, probably crazy, and dying.

For me the best fiction tells great truths, of individual lives, of society; it reveals, as Carl Jung might say, the great archetypes of our lives and our world, that help to illuminate the journeys that we all set out on from the instant of our births.

Both of these books recently came to mind as I was ruminating about old age and what may be in store. There is much of darkness – loss of memory, loss of function, illusions. Do we really understand what happens to us and our brains? Again, I quote Conrad on an ancient Roman sent to Britain, sailing down the Thames: “There’s no initiation either into such mysteries. He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. And it has a fascination, too, that goes to work on him. The fascination of the abomination – you know, imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate.”

I have watched my parents age, and thought about what might come to me if I live another 20 years or so. Memory fails even now, though it can do that at any age. The body has more aches and pains, doesn’t recover as quickly as it used to. Friends tell me stories of their aging parents, the strange things they did, the delusions they suffer from. “Don’t get old,” is said not uncommonly by people who are old. They may become more demanding. Others complain about nearly everything and seem to find little joy in life. Some may have difficulty coping with life, yet refuse to admit it and refuse help, feeling that their children or others are trying to take over, or take advantage. I could go on and on. Friends give examples of those who live well into their nineties and maintain clarity and activity. But it seems to me there are no guarantees. Certainly books and internet posts, so called experts, tell us how to live well into old age. But do they really know if exercise, eating well, keeping active will make a significant difference? Where are the long term studies?

At times, I’ve thought that those whose parents died when they were relatively young were lucky. As were those who had moved and didn’t live close to their parents any more. My paternal grandfather died before I was born. I met my father’s mother only once many years ago in Germany. My maternal grandmother lived with my parents and me when I was very young, but I don’t remember her. My grandfather lived with us in Germany until I was seven and then we moved to Canada. He moved in with my aunt and I never saw him again.

So I haven’t seen much of the details of people aging. Often I’ve wanted to run away from the difficulties. But something keeps me here, keeps me trying. Perhaps it is partly the fear of what might happen to me as I age, and a hope that I’ll reach some kind of understanding that will make it easier. It’s also the hope that I can bring some joy into my parents’ lives. Not that they are never happy, but often it seems that no matter what I do, nothing really makes a difference. Age “Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,” to quote Shakespeare. And should we really, “not go gentle into that good night” but “Rage, rage against the dying of the light,” (Dylan Thomas) or go quietly?

I am on this journey and I want to make sense of it. I always want to make sense of things. And so I write, and think, and read, and find a really good counsellor. The journey continues. And one day I have an amazingly good day with my mother, and I think that this is why the journey has to continue. Other times I have incredible times with my son and grandson. There is joy and sorrow in life; there are challenges and high points in the journey, valleys, and mountains, storms and sunshine.

To quote Tolkien again:

“The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.”

Two notes:
I know that there has been contemporary criticism of “Heart of Darkness” suggesting that it continues stereotypes about African people, and does not deal with racism. I think that it is a book of its time (first published as a serial 1899), and also that it illuminates much. Anyway, read the book, and come to your own conclusions.

I highly recommend that you listen to the beautiful song from the end of “The Return of the King” movie, sung by Annie Lennox “Into the West.” You can find it on line, also. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4wD_PT_jgk)