A Femmena Parturisce e o’ Taùto Sta Sotto o’ Lietto
Neapolitan proverb bridging Zen, weirdness, and Vedantic philosophy
Neapolitan proverb bridging Zen, weirdness, and Vedantic philosophy - AI Image by Author (Microsoft Designer)
The first time I heard the Neapolitan saying:
"A femmena parturisce e o’ taùto sta sotto o’ lietto"
"The woman gives birth and the coffin is under the bed",
I was amazed by its raw wisdom. It mainly brings to mind the big risks of childbirth, which is still very dangerous for both mother and baby, even today. This stark reminder of death at the moment of new life is the saying's most clear and strong message. But there was more to it. Then, I couldn't guess how deeply these words would match my later studies of Vedantic ideas.
Thinking about these words, I found myself pondering the idea of Maya, the cosmic illusion talked about in Vedanta. How can the joy of new life exist so closely with the shadow of death? Yet, in this seeming clash, I began to see a deeper truth. Vedanta teaches us that true reality goes beyond the two sides we see daily. In this saying, life and death are not opposites but parts of one big picture. I wondered: isn't this the same basic oneness that Vedantic wise men talk about?
Samsara
Thinking more, I saw how this saying perfectly shows the idea of Samsara, the endless cycle of birth, death, and rebirth. The coffin under the bed isn't just a reminder of death, but of how life keeps going round and round. In one simple scene from daily life, the saying captures the very core of cosmic flow.
I found myself thinking about how this folk wisdom, born in the very old culture of Naples, can match so well with the insights of Vedic sages. Maybe, I thought, truth knows no cultural or land borders but pops up on its own wherever people think hard about what it means to exist.
But there's something more to this saying, something that goes beyond how it fits with Vedanta. There's something strange, something weird, that keeps drawing me in. The picture it paints is dreamlike, almost unreal. A woman giving birth to a child, is a sign of hope and future, while under her lies hidden the coffin, a sign of the end. This mix creates a feeling of being out of place, a moment where the normal suddenly becomes unsettling.
Weird
I wondered if it isn't exactly this weird quality that makes the saying so strong. Its clash of ideas challenges how we usually see things, making a space in our minds where we can face hard but key truths. The presence of death in the very act of making life turns the home into something uncanny, to use Freud's words.
I think I could start from this proverb to write a weird tale, of that disturbing appeal of certain sinister Shirley Jackson stories.
Intimacy
The bed, a place to rest, be close, and give birth, also becomes the keeper of our final fate. This mix of opposites in one space twists time, where past, now, and future all come together in one moment full of meaning.
Thinking about this strange Neapolitan wisdom, I see how it works almost like a Zen riddle. Its seeming nonsense makes us stop thinking logically and open up to a deeper, more gut-level understanding of reality.
Evocative force
This saying brought out in me the same strong and moving force as Zen saying celebrating non-duality, which I've used many times. I wanted to put it into Neapolitan to take it in:
"Above, not even a tile to cover the head; below, not even an inch of land for the foot."
Here's the Neapolitan version:
"Acopp' manco 'n'àsteco pe' cummiglia' 'a capa, asott manco 'na vrancata 'e turreno p' 'o pède."
This mix of Vedanta-like wisdom and weird qualities gives a unique way to think about the big questions of life. It reminds me that truth can show up in odd places and that, sometimes, it's exactly through the strange and clashing that we can glimpse the true nature of reality.
As I think more about this saying, I'm struck by how it packs so much of life's complexity into such a short form. It shows the depth of Neapolitan culture, with its rich language that UNESCO sees as a cultural treasure. This isn't just slang, but a full language able to express deep-thinking ideas.
And…so?
This saying challenges how we now try to clean up and separate birth and death. In many cultures today, we give birth in hospitals and die in care homes, keeping these big life changes far from our daily lives. The Neapolitan saying, instead, brings them into the heart of the house, making us face the whole cycle of life in our most personal space.
Also, the saying speaks to the two sides of human life - the joy and sorrow, hope and fear, that mark our journey through life. It reminds us that even in our happiest moments, the shadow of death is there, not as a dark threat, but as a key part of being human.
In its mix of the deep and the everyday, this bit of Neapolitan wisdom keeps inspiring me and making me think. It stands as a bridge between cultures, ways of thinking, and the two sides of life, offering a unique lens to view life's big mysteries. As I keep exploring its depths, I'm reminded of how cultural wisdom can light up universal truths, and how language can capture the complexity of human life.
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