A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter. And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. from "The Journey Of The Magi," by T.S. Eliot
We begin with Charlotte Mason's book OurselvesBook II. This is the book she wrote as a guide to "realizing the vast wealth which belongs to" each and every Mansoul (or Personsoul), "how much is possible," and "the perils of the way."
How does it begin? In Book I, she described certain things that we find inside ourselves: physical appetites, intellect, imagination. Now we go deeper and find we each have the same superpower: the power of self-direction. Moreover, we're commanded not to let that power go unused, like a horse that never leaves the stable, but to educate, exercise, understand, and use it, in honour of "the Creator [who] is honoured by our attempt to know...that human nature with which he has endowed us."
What does this have to do with Emmanuel, God With Us? Or T.S. Eliot?
The Magi could not remain in their own country while the Star beckoned them: they loaded those refractory camels and set out through "the ways deep and the weather sharp." Why? In honour of the Creator, who had endowed them with particular treasures, but who had also given them the will to find and worship the Incarnate Son.
It may indeed be the worst time of the year for such a journey. Isn't December everyone's busiest time? Why start this series of posts now, when there's so much to do?
"Any temptation I might have to say 'this is my last word on the subject' is checked by the realization that it is probably also my first word. For I find myself constantly returning to the assumptions and intuitions of my earliest critical approaches...I suspect that every critical or creative effort in words is a beginning, a reconstructed creation myth. Its model, for those in my field, is Wordsworth's last work, published after his death at eighty, and bearing the title of 'Prelude.'" ~~ Northrop Frye, preface to On Education (1988)
I am on a two-week break between "Foundations of Adult Education" (course #1) and "Facilitating Adult Learning" (course #2). Last week for me was mostly writing/editing/formatting/publishing. This week is "vacation," so I'm catching up on reading and other things.
Mama Squirrel's Reading List The Meaning of Adult Education, by Eduard Lindeman (1885-1953)
The Cocktail Party, by T.S. Eliot. I just finished this, and I won't pretend that I understood it all, but it was interesting.
Praying Twice: The Music and Words of Congregational Song, by Brian Wren
Sabbath, by Wayne Muller
The Longing for Home: Recollections and Reflections, by Frederick Buechner
Go Set a Watchman, by Harper Lee (a birthday gift last month)
Finds, clothes: I may have mentioned before (ahem) that I have bought my share of thrifted things that didn't work out so well. Either I misjudged the size (the too-small leggings, the baggy tank top), or I tried them on (again) at home and wondered what I was thinking (the old-lady pants).
So I dropped those things off this morning (volunteer day). And afterwards, I found a few things that do fit and that I do like.
Dark grey leggings with pleather trim:
A grey (maybe taupe) cotton t-shirt from "Gran Canaria," and a necklace with the same flower shapes:
Finds, not clothes: I was cleaning out cookbooks in the back room at the thrift store, and came across this box of recipe cards.
I didn't care about the cards; I just wanted the pretty box for a kitchen decoration.
But I might use some of the recipes too.
I brought home just one book: T.S. Eliot's play The Cocktail Party.
Fixes: Remember the thrifted necklace on the right?
I was putting it on last Sunday, and the thread broke. Luckily, only a few of the beads came off, and Mr. Fixit says he can mend it with some knots and fabric glue (on hand).
Proofreading a new book also counts as fixing. (Coming soon.)
No yard sales now, but we did stop by the thrift store this morning. Mr. Fixit was smitten with a vintage armchair (the kind our grandparents had with prickly upholstery), and an equally vintage (and large) television set that needed repairs. The chair was a great price, but it had some hard metal things in it that would poke you in the back, so he decided to pass on it. The T.V. was a silent-auction item, so he's thinking about going back later to make a bid on that. Lydia found a very very good deal on a name-brand purse for herself (she notices these things).
I was looking at clothes today more by colour than by function, and I found a couple of things that matched what I had in mind. These tops were all $2 or $2.50 apiece:
I am a terrible shoe shopper. I tend to stick to practical colours (other than my purple sneakers); I'm happy just to find something that fits. And you would think that there would be even less chance of finding nice shoes that fit at the thrift store, but I've actually gotten lucky with that several times. So who honestly needs a pair of teal pumps in their closet? Me, me, me.
Books were a dollar apiece this week. You can't see what these all are from the covers, but the red one is a paperback copy of Barbara Leonie Picard's retelling of The Iliad (used not so many years ago in Mrs. Norton's PNEU school); and the others, counter-clockwise, are the Faber Book of Modern Verse, which has a lovely vintage 1930's look to it, and includes several poems by T.S. Eliot; a history of Bruce County in Ontario, along Lake Huron; and The 100-Year-Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared.
Overall, a very successful thrifting trip. (Can I sleep with the shoes under my pillow?)
Professor Richard Lazarus: I find that nothing's ever exactly like you expect. There's always something to surprise you. Between the idea and the reality, between the motion and the act...
The BeMoreWithLess website once posted this list of things not to do, regarding clothes:
"22. Hold on to clothes that might fit someday. (that haven’t fit in years)
23. Save clothes for sentimental reasons. (take a picture instead)
24. Worry about what other people will think
25. Buy stuff to organize your stuff.
26. Worry about trends.
27. Wait for a better time.
28. Keep things just because they are expensive. (or you will just keep paying)
29. Let your clothes speak for you.
30. Stress … this isn’t brain surgery.
31. Just move things around.
32. Compare.
33. Act on the impulse to fill up the empty space."
But, like many good lists, most of this can be applied elsewhere. In our home recently, we have cleared out enough things (including the couch that went sproing) to create some empty spaces. We're not in a hurry to fill them in. I try not to buy too much stuff that just organizes other stuff, if we don't need that other stuff. And no, we're not really worrying about trends.
In the area of education, there is also some good advice here. Leave spaces in your scheduling. Don't hurry narrations; wait for the answers. (As a friend once said, don't talk over the music.) Don't hold onto what doesn't fit: not just the math your children didn't connect with, but the bits of institutional-schooling eggshell that may still be sticking to us. Do certain practices serve a real purpose, or do we do them just because everybody does or everybody did? And don't wait for a better time to introduce "the riches," to take time outside, to read the book together, to go somewhere and make memories.
And then there's the rest of life. We stress to get it right, to think we're finally on top of our game. We think we are voyaging, to quote T.S. Eliot; we think we've gotten somewhere. In the big picture, that may be about as far as our Apprentice used to go on her first little tricycle; and she didn't understand that you have to pedal forwards. Someone out there must be chuckling (I hope kindly) at our small, busy endeavours, and our frustrations over the failures.
In God's upside-down Kingdom, sometimes the meaning is in the emptiness and the quietness. We are told to consider birds and flowers that know they are cared for, and to remember that each day has enough trouble of its own (so we don't need to draw any in advance). We are told that where our real treasures are, our hearts will be as well.
There is practical value in decluttering a closet. But there is also a serenity in finding that truth in the deeper places.
There are other places Which also are the world's end, some at the sea jaws, Or over a dark lake, in a desert or a city— But this is the nearest, in place and time, Now and in England.
If you came this way, Taking any route, starting from anywhere, At any time or at any season, It would always be the same: you would have to put off Sense and notion. You are not here to verify, Instruct yourself, or inform curiosity Or carry report. You are here to kneel Where prayer has been valid.
"To organize society merely on the principle of private profit leads to a rejection of nature...utilitarian 'progress,' so closely connected with the ideology of liberalism, breaks the contract of eternal society, despoiling the soil itself. 'For a long enough time we have believed in nothing but the values arising in a mechanised, commercialised, urbanised way of life: it would be as well for us to face the permanent conditions upon which God allows us to live upon this planet.'" ~~ Russell Kirk, Eliot and His Age; quote from Eliot's The Idea of a Christian Society (1939).
"The more a political creed usurps the place of religious creed, the more risk of its becoming merely a façade. The popular result of ignoring religion seems to be merely that the populace transfer their religious emotions to political theories. Few people are sufficiently civilized to afford atheism." ~~ T.S. Eliot, "Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rowse," The Criterion, July 1929
"[Psychologist W.H.R. Rivers concludes that the Melanesians] are dying from pure boredom. When every theatre has been replaced by 100 cinemas, when every musical instrument has been replaced by 100 gramophones, when every horse has been replaced by 100 cheaper motor-cars, when electrical ingenuity has made it possible for every child to hear its bedtime stories from a loudspeaker...it will not be surprising if the population of the entire civilised world rapidly follows the fate of the Melanesians.'"
~~ Eliot's memorial to Marie Lloyd, 1923 (included in Selected Prose of T.S. Eliot)
There is, it seems to us, At best, only a limited value In the knowledge derived from experience. The knowledge imposes a pattern, and falsifies, For the pattern is new in every moment And every moment is a new and shocking Valuation of all we have been.
...Do not let me hear Of the wisdom of old men, but rather of their folly, Their fear of fear and frenzy, their fear of possession, Of belonging to another, or to others, or to God. The only wisdom we can hope to acquire Is the wisdom of humility: humility is endless.
From our Hodgepodge hostess: "Here are this week's questions to the Wednesday Hodgepodge. Answer on your own blog then spring back here tomorrow to share answers with the universe. See you there!"
1. What are two or three expectations you have of yourself?
Oh dear, you're not starting us off easy this week!
And I'm honestly not sure how to answer that one. Are expectations different from wishes, goals, or things we take for granted? 2. In what way does your outdoor space need sprucing up this spring?
It's too early for gardening here. But we have been doing a bit of yard raking and cleanup, since the last snow melted: Mr. Fixit makes the piles, I fill the bags.
Yesterday we saw the first violet in the yard. 3. According to this site (Roadtrippers), six of North America's most wondrous waterfalls are-Webster's Falls in Ontario, Upper Whitewater Falls in North Carolina, Havasu Falls in the Grand Canyon, Multnomah Falls in Oregon, The Lower Yellowstone Falls, and Niagara. Have you seen any on the list? Which one on the list would you most like to visit? Prettiest waterfall not on the list that you've seen in person?
I haven't even been to Webster's Falls, although that's the closest of those on the list. But I have seen Niagara Falls a few times, and Montmorency Falls in Quebec. I like the Elora Gorge Falls, also in southern Ontario. 4. Looking back, what's something you wish you'd done as a teenager?
Learned to drive. 5. Ham...yes please or no thank you? If you said yes please which of the following do you like best-baked ham with all the trimmings, a ham and cheese sandwich, prosciutto with melon, a ham biscuit, a bowl of split pea and ham soup, or a slice of pizza topped with ham and pineapple?
Ham (pork in general) seems to be unfashionable now, but we still eat it. Not "with all the trimmings," usually, but just baked in a roaster, and then the leftovers made into sandwiches the next day. 6. Are you typical of your generation? How so?
Another tough one. I would say somewhat yes, somewhat no. Most women my age have spent more time working away from home than I did, although some of them may be winding down their careers. Some of them already have grandchildren, but we're not there yet. I do blog, but don't Facebook; I don't go to a gym or jog. But if we're talking about fiftyish mindsets compared to thirtyish or twentyish...yes, I think I'm more like my own age group. I grew up when phones were attached to walls, and we used to go to our trailer without any phones whatsoever...or an answering machine at home. T.V. shows were on once a week (and if you missed an episode of Mork and Mindy, maybe you could catch the rerun later in the season), and photocopies were something maybe your dad could get done for you at the office, if you asked nicely and didn't need too many. Computers were something you wrote programs for in tenth grade math class (and they came with tape recorders to hold your work). Record clubs actually sent records. Gift certificates came on paper, not plastic cards.
It's not that we haven't kept up with technology and the times, it's more that we remember when there were other ways to do things. 7. April rolls in at the end of the week, and in keeping with that theme...'act the fool', 'nobody's fool' 'a fool's errand', 'could have fooled me'...which foolish idiom most recently applies to you?
One of my favourite poems right now is Eliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." In spite of being done to death in English classes, it's quite marvellous, and Anthony Hopkins does a great job reading it. It's about many things, but one of them is worry about getting old (he says the eternal footman is holding his coat and snickering), people's expectations, trying to see or talk about things beyond the everyday routine, but worrying either that he'll look like a fool or just be ignored.
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.
8. Insert your own random thought here.
It's definitely a random week. There are scenes or two I'd like to see start, but I'm trying to be politic, cautious, and meticulous. I'm waiting for certain things to transpire, another shoe or three to drop, before I can make plans for more than just the stretch of road immediately ahead. But, on the other hand, who can ever do much more than that?
Quiddity #59 (Advent Edition) features Christine Perrin and Matt Bianco discussing T.S. Eliot's "The Journey of the Magi." (You can hear T.S. Eliot reading his poem here.) Then we came to a tavern with vine-leaves over the lintel, Six hands at an open door dicing for pieces of silver, And feet kicking the empty wine-skins. But there was no information, and so we continued And arriving at evening, not a moment too soon Finding the place; it was (you might say) satisfactory. All this was a long time ago, I remember, And I would do it again...
"...in 1922, the year that Proust died with his great mythical Recherche complete, the appearance of The Waste Land, Ulysses, and the more ectoplasmic Fantasia of the Unconscious startled the literary public also into realizing the importance of myth. It was the next year that Cassirer began to bring the problem into systematic philosophy, and in the thirty years since then the word myth has continued to produce that uninterrupted flow of talk which is generally called, and sometimes accompanies, a steady advance in thinking."
(Northrop Frye, 1953 review of Ernst Cassirer, Philosophy of Symbolic Forms, vol. 1, trans. Ralph Manheim. Included in Northrop Frye on Culture and Literature: A Collection of Review Essays, edited and with an introduction by Robert D Denham.)
