God is not judgmental.
(Thomas Keating)
Typo
Picture yourself an English teacher grading papers. You are conscientious– you want to help your students become better writers. Nevertheless, grading a stack of essays takes forever, forever, beyond the reaches of time. It feels as if you will be grading these same papers for the rest of your life.
After a while even the good papers seem too much to care about.
But then! Right in the middle of the stack something happens! Something unpredictable, wonderful! In the case I am thinking of, this happened: The student was writing about a very serious Thomas Hardy poem about the World War 1 Armistice. The poem is entitled “And There Was a Great Calm.” Only the student–her name was Lisa–wrote “And There Was a Great Clam.”
Made my day.
Animal Crackers
I read this recently–can’t remember where–
George Carlin wondered if it is okay for vegetarians to eat animal crackers.
Mea Culpa
No, no, no, I am so sorry. Annie is five years younger than I am, not five years older. Wishful thinking.
Annie Dillard, John Freeman, and Lee Smith. Also Me. 3
[See 4/11 and 4/14 posts.]
This is an excerpt of a letter to John Freeman from the novelist Lee Smith, who is describing her time at Hollins College with the young Annie a long time ago.
“When several mostly-English majors formed a (really good, by the way) rock band named the Virginia Wolves, several of us became go-go dancers and performed with them at Hollins, UVA, and other literary festivals. We all had go-go names (I was Candy Love), white boots, glittery outfits, and cowboy hats—I don’t think Annie was an actual traveling go-go girl (no outfit) but she always loved to dance, and still does, to this day, as does my entire class, which always shows up for reunions (even the 45th, our last) with music like “Barbara Ann,” “Stop in the Name of Love,” “You Can’t Hurry Love,” “Help Me Rhonda,” “My Girl,” etc. (I know, I know… you’d have to see this to believe it. Husbands flee.)”
Go Annie! Go Lee!
P.S. All those songs are right inside of me–BA BA BA, BA BARB’RA ANN–yep, I can sing it. And STOPPP IN THE NAAME OF LUV! Yes! They’re in me, just the way that, right this minute as you read these words, I’m in you because I am writing about them.
I love that.
PP.S. Annie is five years older than I am, and Hollins is about 60 miles from where I went to college. Just think how close together we almost were! My heart goes pittty-pat!
PPP.S. HEP ME RHONDA, HEP, HEP ME RHONDA–help–I can’t stop–
Annie Dillard, John Freeman, and Lee Smith. Also Me. 2
[See 4/11 post.]
I admire John Freeman because he has chosen to write about the magnificent Annie Dillard. Here’s a sample of what happens when he weaves his words into hers and her words into his:
“[Dillard says] I have written down every book I’ve read since 1964,” and Johnson adds, “just the name of the book and occasionally a checkmark, if it was really loved . . . What is she seeking? “It’s what I’m for,” Dillard says simply, putting out her cigarette. “Somebody has to read all these books.”
It’s a big part of what I’m for, too.
Those paragraphs were and are very confusing to me: there are three people speaking, and I made the writing as clear as I could, but it’s hard to figure out who is saying what. I like that! It’s an extreme example of that embeddedness I was talking about in the 4/11 post. And think about all the zillions of writers who are embedded in my writing, some of whom I’m aware of and some of whom I’m not.
One more to come . . .
Anxiety, Chaos, Peace
(The Shalem Institute posted this text by Gerald May, who died 11 years ago today.)
Peace is not something you can force on anything or anyone… much less upon one’s own mind. It is like trying to quiet the ocean by pressing upon the waves. Sanity lies in somehow opening to the chaos, allowing anxiety, moving deeply into the tumult, diving into the waves, where underneath, within, peace simply is.
Annie Dillard, John Freeman, and Lee Smith. Also Me.
[If the beginning of this post is boring to you, wait and read next Monday’s post. It tells the real scoop about Dillard. Plus it’s funny.]
I love situations like the one I’m about to describe: they illustrate how much an individual reader and/or writer is embedded in the vast community of all readers and writers.
So: Layer One:
For a long time I have subscribed to Image: A Journal of Art and Religion. I read it faithfully. [Involuntary pun.]. As a subscriber I receive their online “Image Update.”
Layer Two:
I recently followed a link there to an article/interview by John Freeman in the online publication “Literary Hub.” http://lithub.com/contemplating-the-infinite-with-annie-dillard/
Layer Three:
The article, “Contemplating the Infinite with Annie Dillard,” also appears in the journal Poets and Writers, which I used to read.
I had never heard of John Freeman, so in the process of reading about Dillard, whom I adore, it was fun to notice his own writing. Here is some language I like:
The words in the title, “Contemplating the Infinite with Annie Dillard.” I ask you, what could be better than that? (Both the title and the situation.)
“ . . . a demented singularity of purpose.” I know people who have that. Sometimes I do too, like right now, writing this sentence.
“My friend . . . and I are sitting at her dining table, cupped in the mountain cove’s silence that fills the room like a held breath.” It’s that word cupped that gets me. I can see the scene, and be in it.
“In the morning the cabin is clobbered by light.” Yes! Clobbered! I love it.
More to come . . .
Pope Francis on the Border
During his visit to Mexico, Pope Francis celebrated mass just inside the Mexican border with the U.S., across the Rio Grande River from El Paso, TX. This morning’s Houston Chronicle reports that, in addition to celebrating mass, he said this:
The human tragedy that is forced migration is a global phenomenon today. This crisis, which can be measured in numbers and statistics, we want instead to measure with names, stories, families.
Amen.
I’m Giving My Blog Up for Lent
That’s a joke.
It’s just that I am feeling drawn to revise a piece I wrote about my father’s experiences in World War II. It’s about a year old now, and it’s calling me.
So I’m taking a break for a while—how long? Beats me—probably not too long.
In the meantime, if you’re a person who observes Lent, or even if you’re not, consider this ancient rabbinic saying:
“Each of us should have two pockets,” the rabbi teaches. “In one pocket should be dust and ashes. In the other should be a piece of paper with these words inscribed on it: ‘For me the universe is made.’”
So Close to the Other Side 