So many gorgeous strands here: weaving the heart, mind, and the soul of a lover. I now gaze at my snoring lover of 36 years, well-met in the halls of Time Magazine, the year I vowed I would never date anyone at work again. He's still sexy in silver, flat on his back, awaiting surgery for an excruciating L5-S1 disc rupture. Now in our sixties, we joke about each other's demise often. Yet for you, this ache of loss of loving is so very present. Your video project stirs such big emotion and imagination. Thank you. For me, this is what matters most: sharing our infinitesimal moments of loving on this spinning blue planet.
Dec 15, 2023·edited Dec 15, 2023Liked by Bess Stillman
Hi Bess, I read your blog post via hacker news. It sounds like you and Jake have a wonderfully warm relationship. I enjoyed reading about your story and your experiences. I’m interested in time as a concept too, in a sense I’m always living a bit in the future as an inventor, and trying to guess what it could look like. I live in Phoenix too - the midtown area. I am a 50 yr old female inventor/entrepreneur in tech / biotech. Interestingly I’m in NYC visiting family right now (original NJ native, been in AZ 27 years) It occurs to me that it might be nice for you to meet a peer from Phoenix since you just moved during covid. Phoenix can be a bit of a tough town to make new connections / grow roots although it’s friendly. We should meet up at Lux Central for coffee. I can tell you more about the town from an east coast vs west coast perspective. I’ve been here since 96. My LinkedIn is Michelle Howard in Phoenix , AZ CEI and Oxford. You can text if you want to meet up 6027089774. I’ll be around Phoenix at the holidays. Cheers! Michelle Howard
I know I don’t know you two, but you commented on my post about my husband’s cancer year this year, and I’ve become emotionally invested in your story. Your writing is so good at getting at the heart of so many things having to do with love and illness and mortality; language is a technology to transmit thoughts to one another, and you are doing it tremendously. I’ve donated to the GFM and will try to donate again when I have more funds. Sending all my love to you both.
Esmé, thank you for reaching out. Your writing is beautiful and this compliment means so much coming from you. I started this Substack with hopes that our story and experiences might be meaningful and helpful to others in some way, since reading has been so helpful to me (see: how I found you). Trying to figure out how to grow an audience from scratch in order to make those connections has been its own challenge and it's a wonderful gift when connections like these occur. I've been enjoying your Stack as well! You were so kind to donate but please don't worry about doing it again, as you have your own challenges, which I also hope will improve. Love back to you, and do keep in touch :)
My partner is currently slogging her way through her first year in medical school, and while I met her a bit earlier than you met Jake (we were both 21), I see a deep resemblance in our stories. Absent, of course, the many more years you've spent together with Jake, and the cancer diagnosis.
I work in software and finished my education when I graduated high school at 16. She has spent her whole life preparing for doctorhood and navigating the grueling world of medicine. We are very different and very similar at the same time. She is also one of the few people in medicine who has somehow managed to keep her curiosity and intellect without being caramelized and reduced into a flashcard machine (she refuses to use Anki and insists on learning from first-principles, to the dismay of her grades and professors).
If one of us were to lose the other, we would lose much of ourselves. Kind of like a hemispherectomy, if you'll indulge that metaphor. I can't even say it would be catastrophic, because the numbness would be complete enough to make all words empty and every breath heavy with the smell of hospice center. Are you even the same person if you lose so much of yourself? Bess, I am a divider too. If only we could consult Theseus (or, I suppose, the Athenians who did the replacing)!
Yet I also keep this kind of Hermetic/Bohemian/Daoist toolkit, far from Stoic and yet just across the narrow end of the horseshoe, which tells me that everything will be okay and must be as it is. Ram Dass, Terence McKenna, Alan Watts, Lao Tzu, Thích Nhất Hạnh, all blended together into a kind of soul food hummus. If I need to, I can take a little chip of intellect, scoop out a bite, and satiate the empty stomach of the spirit. And then, when I am too much in my soul, I can jump across the horseshoe and listen to Jocko Willink, or read Marcus Aurelius, and polish up the steely resolve that the world demands of me.
This toolkit has only been tested in situations which pale in comparison to the one you find yourself in, and, while writing this out, I realize how aggressively *male* it is.
I don't know if anything can really solve the pain of death. But I have learned how important it is to grieve properly, fully, completely, ritualistically, formulaically, openly, socially, and we are horrendously bad at doing this in modernity. I feel that we have lost much of the deep wisdom of religion and ritual as a stabilizing force for the grieving mind. And so it is our responsibility to build those rituals ourselves, and recruit others to grieve with us, and clearly plan how we will lay those memories of our loved ones to rest.
Rebirth is always something new. Nothing is permanent. Heraclitis, I think, put it best: nothing is permanent except change. And we, the half-insane, frail, and mortal creatures that we are, are tasked with the greatest challenge of all: not to be overwhelmed with anything that happens. If there is any solace, it is that we — everything and every. thing. — are all in it together.
Jake emailed me back after I left a comment on HackerNews. I still need to respond to him. And I will. But I'm almost hoping that by not responding, I can keep something a little bit unfinished, that might tame a merciful God into giving Jake enough time for me time to respond.
You are both special people, and I would love to stay in touch with you. My name is Sebastian, and Jake has my email. If it would be helpful for you to talk with me/her/us, we are here.
My hope is that writing helps with the un-assuageable pain from death, and that my own experiences can help others. I've gotten a spate of emails from people facing R / M HNSCC and who've found my essays on the topic, so maybe I'm helping others at least a little.
There is no doubt that the logos is very powerful and redemptive, and writing is our best tool to reach it.
I have read your essay on medical school, and she has as well. But she is a uniquely stubborn person. Her family has been pushing her to be an engineer since birth, and she's been discouraged from pursuing medicine by seemingly everyone *except* for the physicians she's shadowed, which (as far as I can tell) is a rather rare occurrence.
I do worry that we will lose valuable time that could have been spent otherwise, but the crucible does melt and bond in a way that little else does. Perhaps there is a hidden upside to making way through grueling things together... I certainly think it is much harder to break two people apart when they have been forged together.
Your essays have been wonderful to read, and they provide a much-needed solace that there are sane people around who can call a spade a spade. Medicine is wonderful but it is also so very horrible, and we should be more honest about that duality. And just reading good writing is such a delight. The world has clearly been left better by your footprints, and by the relationship you built with Bess. Thank you!
On a different topic, I am not sure if you have experienced a psychedelic 'therapy', but I would recommend it (if you are prepared to be assuaged. I understand why you might not want to be.)
Carl Jung wrote that to him, death was “an archetype rich in secret life, which seeks to add itself to our own individual life in order to make it whole.” This quote only made sense to me after using psilocybin for my own treatment-resistant depression.
Bess Stillman, I salute you for your courage and fortitude, allowing us to read such a personal account of your joint journey through cancer. Your words touch my heart. ❤️
So many gorgeous strands here: weaving the heart, mind, and the soul of a lover. I now gaze at my snoring lover of 36 years, well-met in the halls of Time Magazine, the year I vowed I would never date anyone at work again. He's still sexy in silver, flat on his back, awaiting surgery for an excruciating L5-S1 disc rupture. Now in our sixties, we joke about each other's demise often. Yet for you, this ache of loss of loving is so very present. Your video project stirs such big emotion and imagination. Thank you. For me, this is what matters most: sharing our infinitesimal moments of loving on this spinning blue planet.
Remarkable. Heart-aching. Intimate. To have heard it in your voice is a gift.
Thank you, Lila. Hope you're doing well.
Hi Bess, I read your blog post via hacker news. It sounds like you and Jake have a wonderfully warm relationship. I enjoyed reading about your story and your experiences. I’m interested in time as a concept too, in a sense I’m always living a bit in the future as an inventor, and trying to guess what it could look like. I live in Phoenix too - the midtown area. I am a 50 yr old female inventor/entrepreneur in tech / biotech. Interestingly I’m in NYC visiting family right now (original NJ native, been in AZ 27 years) It occurs to me that it might be nice for you to meet a peer from Phoenix since you just moved during covid. Phoenix can be a bit of a tough town to make new connections / grow roots although it’s friendly. We should meet up at Lux Central for coffee. I can tell you more about the town from an east coast vs west coast perspective. I’ve been here since 96. My LinkedIn is Michelle Howard in Phoenix , AZ CEI and Oxford. You can text if you want to meet up 6027089774. I’ll be around Phoenix at the holidays. Cheers! Michelle Howard
https://www.linkedin.com/in/michelleclairehoward?utm_source=share&utm_campaign=share_via&utm_content=profile&utm_medium=ios_app
Here I am on LinkedIn. Coffee is on me at Lux :-)
Michelle, I'd love to meet, I'll send you a text!
You are endlessly consistent over time. Hard to see up close, but one step back and it resolves quite nicely.
I'm not sure if that objective consistency is good news or absolutely terrifying.
It's both "what it is" and a thing of beauty
I know I don’t know you two, but you commented on my post about my husband’s cancer year this year, and I’ve become emotionally invested in your story. Your writing is so good at getting at the heart of so many things having to do with love and illness and mortality; language is a technology to transmit thoughts to one another, and you are doing it tremendously. I’ve donated to the GFM and will try to donate again when I have more funds. Sending all my love to you both.
Esmé, thank you for reaching out. Your writing is beautiful and this compliment means so much coming from you. I started this Substack with hopes that our story and experiences might be meaningful and helpful to others in some way, since reading has been so helpful to me (see: how I found you). Trying to figure out how to grow an audience from scratch in order to make those connections has been its own challenge and it's a wonderful gift when connections like these occur. I've been enjoying your Stack as well! You were so kind to donate but please don't worry about doing it again, as you have your own challenges, which I also hope will improve. Love back to you, and do keep in touch :)
I felt an incredible amount of grief reading this and wrote you and him a poem as a consolation.
"Stillman"
I'm sorry you're losing someone you love
How heartbreak takes us from everyone else
And makes of you what it will
leaves you cold, flushed hot with tears
Alone in the dark, with fear of the years
that stretch on so long, abandoned with the shape
of someone who was there, cut out of your world
the silhouette of them, like taken out of the frame
And all that is left, is a picture and name.
I cannot answer for another's grief
Time and circumstance are such a thief.
12.13.2023, 11:56pm before the geminids meteor shower.
Be well, and I hope he recovers by some lucky stars or good fortune.
My partner is currently slogging her way through her first year in medical school, and while I met her a bit earlier than you met Jake (we were both 21), I see a deep resemblance in our stories. Absent, of course, the many more years you've spent together with Jake, and the cancer diagnosis.
I work in software and finished my education when I graduated high school at 16. She has spent her whole life preparing for doctorhood and navigating the grueling world of medicine. We are very different and very similar at the same time. She is also one of the few people in medicine who has somehow managed to keep her curiosity and intellect without being caramelized and reduced into a flashcard machine (she refuses to use Anki and insists on learning from first-principles, to the dismay of her grades and professors).
If one of us were to lose the other, we would lose much of ourselves. Kind of like a hemispherectomy, if you'll indulge that metaphor. I can't even say it would be catastrophic, because the numbness would be complete enough to make all words empty and every breath heavy with the smell of hospice center. Are you even the same person if you lose so much of yourself? Bess, I am a divider too. If only we could consult Theseus (or, I suppose, the Athenians who did the replacing)!
Yet I also keep this kind of Hermetic/Bohemian/Daoist toolkit, far from Stoic and yet just across the narrow end of the horseshoe, which tells me that everything will be okay and must be as it is. Ram Dass, Terence McKenna, Alan Watts, Lao Tzu, Thích Nhất Hạnh, all blended together into a kind of soul food hummus. If I need to, I can take a little chip of intellect, scoop out a bite, and satiate the empty stomach of the spirit. And then, when I am too much in my soul, I can jump across the horseshoe and listen to Jocko Willink, or read Marcus Aurelius, and polish up the steely resolve that the world demands of me.
This toolkit has only been tested in situations which pale in comparison to the one you find yourself in, and, while writing this out, I realize how aggressively *male* it is.
I don't know if anything can really solve the pain of death. But I have learned how important it is to grieve properly, fully, completely, ritualistically, formulaically, openly, socially, and we are horrendously bad at doing this in modernity. I feel that we have lost much of the deep wisdom of religion and ritual as a stabilizing force for the grieving mind. And so it is our responsibility to build those rituals ourselves, and recruit others to grieve with us, and clearly plan how we will lay those memories of our loved ones to rest.
Rebirth is always something new. Nothing is permanent. Heraclitis, I think, put it best: nothing is permanent except change. And we, the half-insane, frail, and mortal creatures that we are, are tasked with the greatest challenge of all: not to be overwhelmed with anything that happens. If there is any solace, it is that we — everything and every. thing. — are all in it together.
Jake emailed me back after I left a comment on HackerNews. I still need to respond to him. And I will. But I'm almost hoping that by not responding, I can keep something a little bit unfinished, that might tame a merciful God into giving Jake enough time for me time to respond.
You are both special people, and I would love to stay in touch with you. My name is Sebastian, and Jake has my email. If it would be helpful for you to talk with me/her/us, we are here.
I will leave you with Shakespeare:
“When he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars,
And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
"Jake emailed me back after I left a comment on HackerNews"
I'm around! For now. Until further notice.
Regarding med school, until recently this: https://jakeseliger.com/2012/10/20/why-you-should-become-a-nurse-or-physicians-assistant-instead-of-a-doctor-the-underrated-perils-of-medical-school/ was by far the most popular thing I'd ever read. It seems to have had zero impact on the number of people aiming to enter med school, though.
My hope is that writing helps with the un-assuageable pain from death, and that my own experiences can help others. I've gotten a spate of emails from people facing R / M HNSCC and who've found my essays on the topic, so maybe I'm helping others at least a little.
There is no doubt that the logos is very powerful and redemptive, and writing is our best tool to reach it.
I have read your essay on medical school, and she has as well. But she is a uniquely stubborn person. Her family has been pushing her to be an engineer since birth, and she's been discouraged from pursuing medicine by seemingly everyone *except* for the physicians she's shadowed, which (as far as I can tell) is a rather rare occurrence.
I do worry that we will lose valuable time that could have been spent otherwise, but the crucible does melt and bond in a way that little else does. Perhaps there is a hidden upside to making way through grueling things together... I certainly think it is much harder to break two people apart when they have been forged together.
Your essays have been wonderful to read, and they provide a much-needed solace that there are sane people around who can call a spade a spade. Medicine is wonderful but it is also so very horrible, and we should be more honest about that duality. And just reading good writing is such a delight. The world has clearly been left better by your footprints, and by the relationship you built with Bess. Thank you!
On a different topic, I am not sure if you have experienced a psychedelic 'therapy', but I would recommend it (if you are prepared to be assuaged. I understand why you might not want to be.)
Carl Jung wrote that to him, death was “an archetype rich in secret life, which seeks to add itself to our own individual life in order to make it whole.” This quote only made sense to me after using psilocybin for my own treatment-resistant depression.
Relevant: https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/news/newsroom/news-releases/2022/08/psychedelics-may-lessen-fear-of-death-and-dying-similar-to-feelings-reported-by-those-whove-had-near-death-experiences.
Bess Stillman, I salute you for your courage and fortitude, allowing us to read such a personal account of your joint journey through cancer. Your words touch my heart. ❤️
Thank you for your kind words, Jane