Doing Nothing

I really like this:

"I've long since stopped feeling guilty about taking being time; it's something we all need for our spiritual health, and often we don't take enough of it." (2)

It reminds me of Christopher Robin's conversation with Winnie the Pooh at the end of House at Pooh Corner:

"What I like doing best is Nothing."
"How do you do Nothing?" asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time.
"Well, it's when people call out at you just as you're going off to do it 'What are you going to do, Christopher Robin?' and you say 'Oh, nothing,' and then you go and do it."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh.
"This is a nothing sort of thing that we're doing now."
"Oh, I see," said Pooh again.
"It means just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

Just as Christopher Robin later bemoans the fact that he won't be able to do Nothing nearly so much anymore because of the grown-up expectations about to be placed upon him, L'Engle mourns the frequent loss of a sense of childlike joy and wonder. Pooh is a master of doing Nothing, yet he is also the most artistic of the inhabitants of the Hundred-Acre Wood. His "poohetry" stems from his willingness to quietly go along, enjoying the world around him. He doesn't stress out about being productive; it's an organic process.

I sometimes find it hard to take the time to "do Nothing"; I always seem to feel the pressure of time even when I don't have any particular deadlines - one bother that plush Pooh is immune to! But doing Nothing is a very worthwhile exercise, especially if it's of the outdoor variety on a beautiful day like today. Of course, it never hurts to have a pencil and notepad in hand just in case Nothing yields Something...

Writing on a Deadline

I can relate so well to the frustration Christian singer-songwriter Nichole Nordeman describes in the Foreward; not sure if it's in your edition or not, but she talks about being forced to write at a time when she was incredibly uninspired and this book making the difference in getting her real creative juices flowing again.

Deadlines have always stressed me out. Then again, they've also kept me going. I always seem to manage when it's an essay for school or a certain number of reviews or a newspaper article, though I do a fair bit of fretting. But writing stories, poems and that kind of thing gives me a lot more trouble, and if it's a self-imposed deadline, chances are I just let it slide, since I can't seem to stick with it, especially if it's one long project, such as a novel, rather than a collection of several short projects, like my self-imposed parody challenge. I finished that, but I've got a book I started wriitng about five years ago that's nowhere near completion. It's got a few chapters but no sense of direction, and I've been totally stalled on it for a year or two.

What do you do to defeat writer's block? At what point do you decide that a particular project just isn't going anywhere? And do you find you write more effectively when a deadline is imposed upon you by others or when you set your own? I'm really ready to tackle some poetry and fiction again. Hopefully Walking on Water will help me to get my juices flowing too!

Walking on Water: First Thoughts

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?

The Importance of Naming

One of my favorite themes in A Wind in the Door is a theme that Madeleine brings up repeatedly in many of her books, both fiction and non-fiction. That's the importance of naming, of knowing and calling someone by their true name. Madeleine believes (and partly because I heard her say it so many times and in so many ways, I've come to believe it deeply too) that our names truly matter, and that naming someone is a true gift.

I think she means that in ways both big and small: using someone's name when you speak or write to them can make them feel heard of listened to; offering someone your name when you first meet is a gift (and receiving their name a reciprocal gift); but "naming" also takes on deeper connotations for her. The ability to name someone, as Meg named Mr. Jenkins in the story, is to let them know that you know who they are on a deep heart level, that you've recognized their uniqueness, or something about what makes them truly themselves, flaws, gifts and all. Naming in Wind also has a lot to do, I think, with calling forth the gifts of someone, helping them to realize their own strengths and calling even when they don't necessarily feel they are strong or capable of a certain task. So "naming" and "loving" (with all the corollaries of strengthening and encouraging) become synonymous for Madeleine.

I remember many years ago when the Bonastra group (a L'Engle listserve I joined about eleven years ago) was more active. We had a huge and very fruitful discussion about the importance of naming, both in Madeleine's books and in our own lives. I wish I could recall more of the discussion or had saved it somewhere (I wonder if it might be available in the site's archives?). I do remember one of the things we talked about was whether or not we felt strongly about our given birth names or other important names from our lives (nicknames, terms of endearment)...if we felt those names really represented who we are.

So how do you feel about your name(s?)

Angels and Snakes

I just remembered this little post that I started a long time ago... One thing that's interesting about A Wind in the Door is the way L'Engle incorporates both angels and snakes. Proginoskes doesn't look anything remotely like most poeple would imagine an angel looking. Art really has a way of cementing certain images in people's minds. The image of the cherubim with many eyes and flames, dragon-like as Charles Wallace observed, has a Biblical precedent but everybody always thinks of the paintings of winged humans...

I like the fact that the snake is a force for good rather than evil. Snakes have had a pretty bad reputation all through history, so it's nice to see something postive about them once in a while. Both seem to relate to not judging things based on their appearance, but looking deeper to discover that just because something looks scary, it doesn't mean it's necessarily bad.

Love Your Enemies

I love this command, and it's certainly something I try to live up to - though in all honesty, I'm pretty lucky and haven't really had to deal with people antagonizing me in quite a long time. The scene in which Meg saves Charles Wallace with her love is very powerful; her Naming Mr. Jenkins is just as moving. Meg is such a spirited, opinionated girl, and the bland, authoritarian Mr. Jenkins has been a source of great distress and disappointment to her, not least because he could be a strong advocate if he had the inclination. In her everyday life, it wouldn't be much of a stretch to call him her greatest nemesis, and it's not wonder she struggles with her assignment to Name him. But love triumphs over hatred, and he turns out to be incredibly important in the quest to cure Charles Wallace and demonstrates that underneath all that bureaucracy, he really does care about his students.

He reminds me a lot of Katherine Brooke, the stodgy administrator Anne Shirley wins over in Anne of Windy Poplars, showing her how to really live again. I don't suppose Meg expected too much of Mr. Jenkins when she Named him at the school, but because she opened herself to the seed of goodness within this incredibly frustrating character, she was able to watch him blossom into a truly beautiful person. What a wonderful illustration of the healing power of compassion...

Getting Fond

One of my favorite lines in A Wrinkle in Time comes from the Happy Medium, who says, in the chapter bearing her name, "It's my worst trouble, getting fond. If I didn't get fond I could be happy all the time." It is a problem, isn't it? As soon as we become attached to someone, we set ourselves up for pain: the pain of empathy and of loss. The Buddhist take on this is that we should strive to remain unattached, to either people or things, because it will hinder our serenity. Perhaps, and sometimes I'm tempted to keep to myself as much as possible for this very reason. But think of the depths of joy we'd be missing out on if we refused to connect with other people.

It reminds me of the theme songs of Rankin and Bass's versions of The Hobbit and The Return of the King, especially the latter, which poses the question, "What good is it to love when the loving always ends?" and notes, "If you never say hello, you won't have to say goodbye." Obviously, Frodo is not controlled by such thoughts. He agrees to take the Ring all the way to Mordor out of love for his friends and for the entire population of the Shire, even those he doesn't know. He has gotten fond, and therefore he puts himself into great danger. And he is a hero to emulate.

Meg returns to the oppressive Camazotz for Charles Wallace because she loves him. Mrs. Whatzit gives up her life as a star because she loves what is good and right in the universe. Love drives so many brave actions in this novel and so many others. Getting fond. It may not be the easiest way to live. But it must be the most fulfilling.