Magic of the Dead

"Now each visitor shall confess The sad valley's restlessness.

Nothing there is motionless-

Nothing save the airs that brood

Over the magic solitude." ~Edgar Allan Poe

I have always been fond of cemeteries.

I have no recollection of when my interest in spending time in them began, I just always have. It is almost as if my hobby has always been a part of me like my art and my love for Halloween.

Cemeteries have consistently been places of peace and wonder, history and curiosity for me. Despite struggling over the past couple of years being stricken with grief and loss, my love for cemeteries hasn't dwindled. A part of me feared that it would be too painful for me to enter the hills of the dead after experiencing so much death throughout the pandemic, but I've learned to love them even more as they give me a designated space to release sadness and memorialize my loved ones.

It is a major cliche for a gothic writer and macabre artist like me, to enjoy cemeteries. That wasn't a conscious choice however, I just simply gravitated towards the dead and many darkly inclined interests since childhood. Even when I say that though, I feel a contradiction in my heart, because cemeteries aren't places of darkness at all for me.

I think Poe coined the phrase "magic solitude" beautifully in the poem, The Valley of Unrest. I've taken countless walks through cemeteries across North America and felt that same energy in every location I enter. I even sheltered under a pine tree in a rainstorm in an old cemetery! Each time I visit, I notice that these final resting places are specifically meant for quiet remembrance, mourning, and love. They do not feel horrific or dark at all, they are sacred and somber at most.

On my recent trip to Portland, Oregon, I spent a few hours in Lone Fir historic cemetery over the period of a month. I observed some quite special things while I was there. Since it was springtime, I got to see the flowers change and bloom. There were small meadow flowers all blossoming over the graves, dogwood trees in bloom between the pines, and the most magnificent multicolored rose bushes had been planted around the grounds. Another sight I beheld was the haven it had become for local wildlife. Crows, and squirrels in particular, were everywhere, and they seemed quite happy to have such great roaming space while being keen on observing the humans. I also saw a lot of people come into the cemetery. Runners, dog walkers, visitors, mourners, artists, and a kindred spirit of a punk individual with a bright red mohawk who sat in the grass deep in thought. People of all kinds came to the cemetery to reminisce. Giving their love and care for those who have passed away even if they had no connection to the deceased that were buried there.

In normal conversations, I rarely hear about flora, fauna, and the strong presence of love being associated with cemeteries. Therefore, I felt the need to share my observations about this topic as it contributes so greatly to my creativity and inspiration. Death is inevitable and it can be frightening to some, but I think that the juxtaposition of the dead enhances the vibrancy of life. This magic solitude is created by the presence of nature, animals, and people coming together to appreciate those who came before us and the land they lie beneath. Memento mori is a reminder of our own mortality, but perhaps the end of our mortal existence is not so grim when we take moments to recognize how beautiful the small things surrounding us truly are.

~Nikolai Sergei Razumov