Well, we've not gotten very far with this blog so far. :-) I still can't believe summer is over and gone...and September seems to be galloping by at an alarming rate too!
I'm glad we've decided to read Walking on Water next. It's long been one of my very favorite of Madeleine's books, and one of my favorite books on faith and creativity period.
I just started re-reading the other day. I'm only a few pages in, but I keep pausing and smiling because I have so very many favorite quotes. Not just quotes by Madeleine herself either. I was realizing how many other quotes and poems she introduced me to. I read this book for the first time in 1987 and I'm pretty sure it was my introduction to Coleridge's "willing suspension of belief," for instance. I know it was also the first place I'd ever read e.e. cumming's wonderful poem beginning "i who have died am alive again today..."
But some of the things Madeleine herself said were very important to me the first time I ever read them, and have remained so. They've sort of embedded themselves in my heart and mind and become touchstones for me as I try to continue to live out a writing life, one that is connected (I hope deeply) to my living out of my faith.
One of those important quotes comes on p. 18 (of my 1980 edition published by Shaw) when Madeleine writes:
"Obedience is an unpopular word nowadays, but the artist must be obedient to the work, whether it be a symphony, a painting, or a story for a small child. I believe that each work of art, whether it is a work of great genius, or something very small, comes to the artist and says 'Here I am. Enflesh me. Give birth to me.' And the artist either says, 'My soul doth magnify the Lord,' and willingly becomes the bearer of the work, or refuses; but the obedient response is not necessarily a conscious one, and not everyone has the humble, courageous obedience of Mary."
To "willingly become the bearer of the work." That has been a ribbon I've carried from this book for a long time. To obediently respond to God's call on our lives...any call, but specifically here, the creative call. To write a story or craft a poem not just for fun (though it can be delightful) and not primarily to serve myself or my own purposes, but because the work presents itself as something that needs to be written. It feels grandiose to say that God calls us to create/write whatever that work is, and to do it lovingly and well, but I think at the deepest level, that's what Madeleine is saying here. It feels very freeing to me that she sees this as a fundamental truth underlying ALL creative work, not just inspired works of clear genius.
I've absorbed this thought for such a long time that I think it effects the way I look at certain works of art. If they're made well and lovingly, crafted carefully, then I think the author has borne the work well....
I seem to be rambling, but it's late and I'm tired. And I've already been interrupted once by a power outage...we're getting some high winds out there tonight! So I'll just leave this with one more thought/question: if artists/writers are birth-givers, can we stretch the metaphor to say those that teach, mentor and encourage other artists/writers are midwives?
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2 comments:
Man, we had some really scary wind on Sunday too. It made me think of L'Engle, actually - a very dark and stormy night! Our power flickered but never really went out; some folks lost it for a couple of days...
Anyway, I think the midwife idea makes a lot of sense. That's a different sort of gift than giving birth - though of course a person can do both. I've been thinking lately about Mr. Holland's Opus, one of my favorite movies, and how he sacrificed a great deal of his creator role in favor of the mentor role. It's an interesting give and take, I think, and a tough call sometimes to decide which endeavor is more worthy of one's time and talents...
Yah, and the thing is... mentoring/teaching and creativity, even though they're connected, often seem to draw on different reserves of mental and creative energy, at least for me. So if I'm in a prolonged season where teaching and mentoring are prominent in my life (as they are now) I don't seem to have as much energy leftover for more original artistic endeavors. Make sense?
On the other hand, sometimes teaching inspires me to want to write more...
I hadn't thought of *Mr. Holland's Opus* in a long time. I've only seen it once, many years ago.
Glad you kept power! We mostly did, though it flickered on and off probably a dozen times during the evening and overnight. Quite a storm! The kind of storm where you might not be surprised to see Mrs. Whatsit show up at your door to say: "I just got caught in a downdraft and blown off course..." :-)
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