25 May 2010

From an Atlas of the difficult world ...

... by Adrienne Rich reminds a little of Calvino's "If on a winter's night a traveller" in terms of styles and the range of possibilities it creates, even in a difficult world ...

I know you are reading this poem
late, before leaving your office
of the one intense yellow lamp-spot and the darkening window
in the lassitude of a building faded to quiet
long after rush-hour. I know you are reading this poem
standing up in a bookstore far from the ocean
on a grey day of early spring, faint flakes driven
across the plains' enormous spaces around you.
I know you are reading this poem
in a room where too much has happened for you to bear
where the bedclothes lie in stagnant coils on the bed
and the open valise speaks of flight
but you cannot leave yet. I know you are reading this poem
as the underground train loses momentum and before running
up the stairs
toward a new kind of love
your life has never allowed.
I know you are reading this poem by the light
of the television screen where soundless images jerk and slide
while you wait for the newscast from the intifada.
I know you are reading this poem in a waiting-room
of eyes met and unmeeting, of identity with strangers.
I know you are reading this poem by fluorescent light
in the boredom and fatigue of the young who are counted out,
count themselves out, at too early an age. I know
you are reading this poem through your failing sight, the thick
lens enlarging these letters beyond all meaning yet you read on
because even the alphabet is precious.
I know you are reading this poem as you pace beside the stove
warming milk, a crying child on your shoulder, a book in your
hand
because life is short and you too are thirsty.
I know you are reading this poem which is not in your language
guessing at some words while others keep you reading
and I want to know which words they are.
I know you are reading this poem listening for something, torn
between bitterness and hope
turning back once again to the task you cannot refuse.
I know you are reading this poem because there is nothing else
left to read
there where you have landed, stripped as you are.

22 May 2010

Suffering ...

... is a question which I am not even closed to start contemplating about it ... this page is the beginning of a series of thoughts which I have come across in my search for a greater understanding ...

May 2010
Paul Tournier - The person matures, develops, becomes more creative, not because of the deprivation in itself, but through his own active response to misfortune, through the struggle to come to terms with it, and morally to overcome it, even if in spite of everything there is no cure ...

Simone Weil - The extreme greatness of Christianity lies in the fact that it does not seek a supernatural remedy for suffering, but a supernatural use for it.

Oswald Chambers - A man up against things feels that he has lost God, while in reality, he has come face to face with Him.

June 2010
Shadowlands -
C.S. Lewis (Jack): Why love, if losing hurts so much? I have no answers anymore: only the life I have lived. Twice in that life I've been given the choice: as a boy and as a man. The boy chose safety, the man chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's the deal.

C. S. Lewis: Pain is God's megaphone to rouse a deaf world.

July 2010
Hudson Taylor
From my inmost soul I delight in the knowledge that God does or deliberately permits all things, and causes all things to work together for good to those who love Him. He, and he only, knew what my dear wife was to me. He know how the light of my eyes and the joy of my heart were in her ... But he saw that it was good to take her; good indeed for her, and in his love he took her painlessly; and not less good for me who must henceforth toil and suffer alone - yet not alone, for God is nearer to me than ever".

08 May 2010

A letter to ...

... a long lost love was published in The Guardian yesterday ... It may not be the most beautiful letter ever written but its sentiments feel so true ... As for the last paragraph, it does make you wonder ...

"A letter to … a long-lost love" from The Guardian's "The letter you always wanted to write" ~ Sat 8 May

Our Uncle Simon died in April, a bachelor and a very solitary man with a very dry and quick wit. Among his personal effects we discovered this letter, which would have been written in 1947/48, when he was at Liverpool University. Ruth, the recipient of the letter, was a dental student. These letters were a revelation to the family as Simon had never indicated that there was a significant relationship in his life; even his six brothers were unaware of any romantic involvements. He would have been 26 at the time of writing and we wonder if rejection by Ruth prevented him from making any commitment for the rest of his life. A significant factor, and one alluded to in the letter, is that as the son of Orthodox Jews, a relationship with a non-Jew would have caused Simon much soul-searching.
~ Jennifer and Mavis Henley

Last year I was in no position to decide my future. But now I am able to make plans. I have always intended to leave Liverpool and take a job somewhere south. I believe I shall be happier there, somehow, and free from interference.

There is something I can do, which will solve our problem. I have been thinking over it for some time. It will be easy. But I am not able to describe it to you in a letter. It needs to be discussed in conversation.

I ought to say that I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you, when I felt I wanted to marry you; although I did not realise it at the time. If I afterwards had doubts it was because I was not my own master. But I soon will be. When my father died I went off the deep end with grief. Yet a thing like that may happen to anybody. The emotion that such trouble causes is only temporary, after all. You seem to have felt, however, that I had averted myself from you for always. But it was not so. The pain I caused you was no less than the suffering I inflicted upon myself. Parting from you was like cutting off my right hand.

There is nothing in the world that I would not do in order to show my love for you. Nothing. You are part of my life, friend in mind as the ideal of the good and the beautiful. I believe that we are meant and made for one another, that we belong together. I am willing to go to any lengths … in order to ensure your happiness. I will marry you, if you will have me, no matter what the risks may be and no matter what the consequences. The risks I am sure are negligible and the consequences will be wholly good. And just because we are conscious of the possible snags, we shall succeed. If only because we appreciate one another's outlook we shall achieve tolerance and mutual understanding and attain to that satisfaction and joyful peace, which result from a sound marriage. The attainment of all this depends, as I said, upon the idea mentioned above. I hope to discuss it with you.

I love you so much that I cannot bear to be parted from you and every minute of separation is torment to me. I feel that I cannot live without you. Everything I do is done or said with reference to you. You may be astonished to learn that consciously or unconsciously I have always thought of you as my wife.

So, when I thought I had lost you for ever the agony I felt was terrible. It was like being bereaved. But because I had thought, or rather hoped that you understood, the misunderstanding grew deeper, to our mutual hurt. What has happened in the last few weeks is of no importance in my eyes. I am in any case almost wholly to blame for it.

I am deadly serious, my darling. Here it is in black and white, a proposal of marriage made with no reservations but with all the earnestness of which a man is capable, for all the world to see. It does not matter who knows.

I love you, my sweet, precious darling. I will do all I can to make you happy. I will work my hardest. I will stand by you until death.

There are many religions but only one God. I believe he will look upon us two with kindly indifference. I am not sure about that. But I am sure about you.