Essential Tulips And A Gorgeous Madness

My favourite British daily newspaper is the Guardian (and its Sunday sister paper, the Observer). I don't see a copy every day, but I do buy the Saturday edition whenever possible, mainly for its excellent Review section on the arts. It's so well written. If I have the time, I'm quite happy to spend an hour or two doing the Quick Crossword, then reading/skim reading the whole supplement from cover to cover, perhaps marking out bits that have caught my attention. I see I've highlighted these three pieces from last Saturday's Review:

Nicola Barker on Thomas Merton:

'Up with the revolution of tulips. Tulips are not important, they are essential. Yes, sing. Love and Peace, silence, movement of planets.'

As soon as you start reading him [Merton], you find yourself transported to the wooden porch of his hermitage in Gethsemani, Kentucky. It is night-time. The crickets roar. You are perched on an uncomfortably comfortable stool, watching the fireflies flit through the darkness. 'Lord God of this great night,' Merton sighs, 'do you see the woods? Do you hear the rumour of their loneliness? Do you behold their secrecy? Do you remember their solitudes? Do you see that my soul is beginning to dissolve like wax within me?'

Stuart Jeffries interviewing the Swedish author Sven Lindqvist:

One of Lindqvist's earliest books was called Advertising Is Lethal. 'It's a critique of advertising and marketing. I wrote it when I had recently married and we had to buy everything to make a household. I revolted against the idea that I would have to do work I didn't want to do just in order to pay instalments on a sofa. I'd much rather not have a sofa and use my time to do some reading, writing, loving and experiencing life.' (Me too! SW)

The Saturday Poem: The Alibi by James Fenton:

My mind was racing.
It was some years from now.
We were together again in our old flat.
You were admiring yourself adjusting your hat.
'Oh of course I was mad then,' you said with a forgiving smile,
'Something snapped in me and I was mad for a while.'

But this madness of yours disgusted me,
This alibi,
This gorgeous madness like a tinkling sleigh,
It carried you away
Snug in your fur, snug in your muff and cape.
You made your escape
Through the night, over the dry powdery snow.
I watched you go.

Truly the mad deserve our sympathy.
And you were driven mad you said by me
And then you drove away,
The cushions and the furs piled high,
Snug with your madness alibi,
Injured and forgiven on your loaded sleigh.

All wonderful quotes, don't you think?

Leaps In The Dark

But to my surprise as the weeks passed, the most disorientating dark gripped me. Like a demented dog, I went from room to room, to park, to library, to every kind of public and private place trying to write this thing. The images, the people and places remained so clear, yet nothing satisfactory would happen.

Then gradually it dawned on me that some sort of intellectual pride held me back from the only possible conclusion.

It is not enough to seek and care; to pay lip service to all manner of ideals. Real witness is what counts. Why is it so difficult?

It is something to do with leaps in the dark. Recognising that truth is hidden. But transformation towards truth is something else. It is practice and diligence as Lama Jigmé said.

Referring to belief and faith Thomas Merton wrote, 'We do not see first and then act; we act, then see.'

From On Pilgrimage: A Time To Seek (1991) by JENNIFER LASH

(My photo shows the late 12th century figure of Saint James, the centrepiece of the Pórtico de la Gloria, welcoming pilgrims to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.)

Mysticism And Resistance

As I've mentioned before, one of my favourite radio programmes is Something Understood. It's a weekly half-hour themed medley of words, music and commentary on spiritual subjects. BBC Radio 4 broadcasts it on Sundays at 6.05, and it's then repeated later that night at 23.30. Yesterday's programme was called Mysticism And Resistance.

As it says on the programme's website: Mark Tully considers the link between mysticism and resistance. He tests Thomas Merton's suggestion that the monk is essentially someone who takes up a critical attitude to the world, and the German theologian Dorothee Soelle's insistence that authentic mystical experience always leads to resistance to the world as it exists now.

Starting yesterday's programme was this gorgeous song by Celtic-influenced, Canadian singer songwriter Loreena McKennit - inspired by the mystic writer and visionary, St John of the Cross: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MclLF473XtA

A Prayer

My Lord God
I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following
your will does not mean
that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that my desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope that I have that desire
in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything
apart from that desire.
And I know that if I do this
you will lead me by the right road
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore will I trust you always
though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear,
for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me
to face my perils alone.

THOMAS MERTON (1915-1968)

I find the hesitancy, the humility and the qualified hope in this prayer quite moving.