For whom or for what does your heart pulsate?

By Dr. Heather Bozant Witcher
Clarion Herald

Our lives are made up of a series of losses. People, animals, places, things – they all come and go.

At the end of the 19th century, art and literary critic Walter Pater took this central fact and called for an appreciation of living in the moment. To grab hold of each moment in an attempt at “expanding that interval, in getting as many pulsations as possible into the given time” – that is the quest of Pater’s brand of aestheticism and what is commonly touted as “art for art’s sake.”

Too often people focus on the “art for art’s sake” and not enough on Pater’s emphasis on the “pulsations” of life. What are the aspects of our lives that pulse – that make our lives worth living, that provide joy, pleasure, excitement, sorrow? Those electrical moments are those that are worth our pursuit because all too quickly the moment, that interval of life, is gone.

Just after Christmas, my in-laws lost their cat after a long fight with diabetes. My children love animals. They chase around our dogs, calling after them with affectionate nicknames that they’ve given them. The cat, Trouble, was no different. “Meow Meow” was their name for him. Every time they saw their grandparents, they saw “Meow Meow” – and so the association stuck. They ask after their grandparents, and they ask after “Meow Meow.”

When we told them that the cat was sleeping, that he would be sleeping for a long time, they seemed confused. How else do you impart death to 2 1/2-year-olds? They still ask after him, and I’m certain that when they next see my in-laws, they’ll be hunting for Trouble.

For them, this old cat conjured up a number of associations or pulsations. It’s connected within this larger web of their very short (again, only 2 1/2-year-old) lives.

How vast are our pulsations – those moments and the people, animals, places and things that create that interval?

I recently found out that one of my favorite professors from undergraduate school died. Immediately, I could see myself back in his classroom, studying English drama and Shakespeare. I could hear his jokes and his proclivity for air instruments, and I could smell the ever-lingering cigarette smoke wafting through the room.

He was one of the professors who made me want to follow my career, to become the professor I am today. When I teach Shakespeare or make connections to English drama, I find myself using the same tactics, hoping for the same level of engagement and passion he had brought to my undergraduate classroom.

Who are the people who inspire you? Who opens your eyes to the world around you and offers a path forward?

“Adieu,” says the Moroccan prince in “The Merchant of Venice.”“I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.” If our lives are marked by loss – by the goings and comings of those individuals who enliven a small phase of our journey – then our memories and our hearts are what allow those pulsations to keep going.

Heather Bozant Witcher  can be reached at [email protected].