In this conversation, we talked with the poet about her childhood in Švekšna, her dreams and the ghost dog.
– Uršula, I have seen you participating in literary life for a long time – we met for the first time many years ago in the “Islands of Literature”. You said that you study psychology and aim to combine these two disciplines: psychology and literature. how is it now Do you still dream about it?
– I feel nostalgic for the “Islands of Literature”, it was a real island for me. During that time, I completed my psychology studies, did some work in the field of child and adolescent mental health, and wrote fairy tales. I think I will do this and that with psychology. I supplemented my knowledge by studying sociology, I delved into the field of art and its relationship with the social class. I felt that I wanted to be closer to art. You want to create yourself. Poetry accompanied me all this time and still follows me like a faithful dog. It is very important to me and it breaks through where I am. I was reprimanded for writing a poem while at work.
– You write a lot about childhood, but a childhood in which there is a lot of violence and loneliness. The lyrical self’s sister has her jaw dislodged, her brother thrown an ax by the village drunkard, and she ends up drowning in the bathtub. Why are you writing about this? Is it related to your work experience as a psychologist, or did you see violence yourself as a child?
– Poetry is like a sandbox where you can play with darkness. It’s strange, but from an early age we are attracted to images that are not all rosy. I have to spend time with my nieces and nephews, I noticed that children are attracted to movies, games with cruel motives, horror stories. Perhaps that tendency to shadowy, scary, aggressive images comes from human nature itself, the desire, and at the same time fear, to face images of death or images close to it, as well as our own repressed aggression, which each of us has. Also in reality, not only in imagination, everyone has to change sides with difficult events and experiences, there is a lot of violence in the world, visible or hidden. I lived in a small town, and in smaller settlements things are more openly seen and heard that are encapsulated by apartment walls or institutions in cities.
– What town did you grow up in? Tell us about yourself there: what were you interested in, what place did literature and art occupy in your early life?
– I grew up in Švėkšna, a town in Western Lithuania, in a fairly large family. I grew up with two sisters and two brothers, something like from Lithuanian folk tales. I am the youngest in the family, so both at school and everywhere else, I was equal to my brothers and sisters. I had to do a lot of work, help my mother, we had a small farm. Together with my sister and brother who were a few years older, we played sports and attended athletics training. Before the lessons started, we ran cross-country, accompanied by Snagius, a Labrador mix. A lot of time was taken up by training, competitions, I had a trainer like from the movie “Million dollar baby”. At school, I liked mathematics, Lithuanian language-literature and history lessons the most, although biology and chemistry books were mostly thrown at home, because my sisters and brothers were most interested in that. Maybe in my teens I started reading more fiction, I also discovered some ethics textbooks at home, which raised questions I cared about – who I am, etc. Well, I started writing a diary, in which fragments of poems kept appearing. My oldest brother and sister went to art school and both drew very well. I envied them because I wanted to, but I spent a lot of time in training. However, I have accumulated a bunch of drawings, and I still draw, especially when I get tired of words.
– In your poetry, you talk about home as a confusing space (“And why is this space so confusing/ let’s call it home/ let’s call it a formless void/ it is torn into a plate/ it crumbles into sand”). How do you understand the concept of home? What is home to you?
– For me, home is associated with a space full of memories, people, things, and feelings. It’s mostly in the mind, although the physical and relationship dimension is also important. I am trying to reconstruct the house in myself and around me. I also associate home with a separate room, where there would be an opportunity to expand the physical space with imagination. It’s strange, but I also associate water with home. Maybe because my childhood home was by the pond. Although I have drowned many times, water still attracts me.
Photo by Roberto Riabovo/BNS/Uršulė Toleikytė
– Your book was evaluated by literary critic Virginija Cibarauskė. She notes that the worldview of your poems consists of a dream world. Is poetry a form of escapism for you?
– It happens in any way. Sometimes I write because I want to create another or parallel reality. However, sometimes, as I write from an intense experience, I try to recreate it. Maybe I wouldn’t consider the layer of dreaminess as a form of escapism, rather it is a way of seeing and one of the versions of reality.
– How often do you dream yourself? What plots dominate your dreams?
– I heard the fact that we all dream when we sleep, but we don’t remember. I remember my dreams well enough, even though I sleep restlessly. Lately I’ve been having a lot of war-related dreams, like someone breaking into a house or sailing a boat through tunnels. I don’t know, psychoanalysts could throw in an interpretation here. Apparently the context of a busy world works.
– In the second chapter, themes of love appear (“we are not yet acquainted/ although we cuddle at night/ caressing the segments lying/ bleached sheets”). What do you think this phenomenon is? Maybe a disease?
– I think it’s just a fantasy of the lyrical subject. I don’t like to pathologize everything, especially literature. I also like to enjoy what words can create, like a picture or a film frame.
– Why don’t you like to “pathologize literature”?
– I think literature is much broader than just diagnostic codes. Even if it is written about difficult experiences, mental health difficulties, social dilemmas, which often happens in poetry, which I myself write about, when reading, you still want to discover literature – that maneuver that words can do.
– In general, what do you look for in poetry? Do you enjoy writing?
– If I didn’t feel pleasure doing poetry, I think I wouldn’t do it. I feel pleasure when I read an interestingly written poem, when I am surprised, when I identify myself or when I am immersed in another world. I lose track of time in poetry. It involves me in several realities – in another reality and in this, I would say, an intermediate reality. It allows me to be more attentive to what is happening inside me and others, to see the environment more carefully, to see it in a new way. As I write, I can explore, play, create, and reinvent. And talk. Poetry gives you the power to say. I’m looking for ways to say it. Of course, words are not always easy. It doesn’t come out the way you want to say it, the words run away like rabid animals. When I was editing the book, I would wake up at night with the dilemma of letters. But poetry is also something I can sink into on those sleepless nights.
Photo by Roberto Riabovo/BNS/Uršulė Toleikytė
– It seems that the night is your most creative time of the day. What does your writing process look like? Perhaps the idea of a poem suddenly comes to mind and falls on a napkin? Or is it thoughtful work with the text while sitting quietly at the table?
– Night is the most creative time, but not for writing itself, but for sleep and dreams. I somehow write poorly in the evening, I’m more of a morning person, although I’m not always awake. Reading, writing, more thoughtful work, although there are also unexpected moments of inspiration – on trolleybuses, on the street, in clinics, basically, anywhere. Most of the time, inspiration comes when I’m writing, when I’m immersed in it, although I don’t necessarily resist the words themselves.
– What is a ghost dog? Is this the lyrical “I” of the book?
– I would like the readers to decipher the Ghost Dog themselves. One way to read it is that the ghost dog is a lyrical subject or companion, a voice that calls to speak. The dog keeps passing through the book like a ghost. The ghost dog can also be associated with the intertext of Jarmusch’s film Ghost Dog: Way of the Samurai. The movie and the book can be connected with the atmosphere of an unsafe, painful world, a world that resembles a dream rather than reality, and at the same time with an attempt to stay in such a world, grasping for connection, imagination, following the footsteps of things that are important to you. Also, a dog is an animal that wanders around the boundaries when it is released, sees things that are usually hidden or buried. I hope that each reader will create their own version of Ghost Dog.
– If you could enter one of the worlds of your poems for one day, which one would you choose and what would you like to experience there first?
– I think I would choose “Seashell”.„ and I would try to find “that one word like a lost shoelace”.
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2024-09-09 03:59:03
Table of Contents
Unlocking the World of Uršulė Toleikytė: A Lithuanian Poet’s Journey
Uršulė Toleikytė, a talented Lithuanian poet, has been making waves in the literary world with her thought-provoking poetry that delves into the complexities of childhood, violence, and the concept of home. In this article, we will delve into the world of Uršulė Toleikytė, exploring her childhood, her passion for psychology and literature, and her unique perspective on the human experience.
Early Life and Inspiration
Uršulė Toleikytė grew up in Švėkšna, a small town in Western Lithuania, in a large family with two sisters and two brothers [2[2[2[2[2[2[2[2]. Her childhood was marked by a strong sense of responsibility, helping her mother with household chores and tending to their small farm. Despite the demands of her daily life, Uršulė found solace in athletics, training, and competitions, which played a significant role in shaping her early years [2[2[2[2[2[2[2[2].
Uršulė’s love for literature and poetry began at a young age, with her oldest brother and sister pursuing art school and encouraging her to explore her creative side [2[2[2[2[2[2[2[2]. Her early fascination with ethics textbooks and her desire to understand human nature led her to write poetry, which became an outlet for her thoughts and emotions [[2](https://www.lrytas.lt/kultura/literatura/2024/09/03/news/poete-ursule-toleikyte-prijauciu-neisblizgintoms-istorijoms-parastems
Comprehensive Article on Uršulė Toleikytė: A Poet’s Journey Through Childhood, Psychology, and Literature
Uršulė Toleikytė, a Lithuanian poet, has been making waves in the literary world with her unique blend of psychological insights and lyr