I am always trying to write more letters. So I was very pleased when our sisterhood at church organized a pen-pal match-up, for anyone who wanted to exchange letters once a month with another woman in the group. I got matched up with Gwen, and she and I were thrilled about that; we somehow rarely get a chance to talk or be together outside of church services, so letter writing is perfect for us. We have been writing back and forth now for a year, though we may have fallen off a bit lately.
Because of all this, I loved reading what Donald Hall had to say to an interviewer on the subject. I am sad that people like him seem to be a “dying breed.” Do you think there is any hope of a revival of letter-writing? Even people without smart phones often use a computer to write emails instead of paper-and-ink letters.
Last Christmas I gave all my younger grandchildren ten stamped postcards each. They were of various designs, from my huge collection of postcards that remain from when I often wrote them to the (now older) grandchildren, and was for a time sending postcards all over the world as a member of Postcrossing. I included in the Christmas packages a list of their cousins’ and my addresses, and told them that postcards are fun because you only need to write a few words to fill up the page; it’s an easy way to let people know that you think of them.
Postcard from Ogden Nash
This post would not be complete without mentioning my friend Di, who has neither a computer nor a smart phone, and writes me a letter at least twice a year. She is one of the best letter-writers I have ever known, and I should write a whole post just featuring excerpts from her witty missives to me. I doubt a letter from Donald Hall could please me as much as hers do.
INTERVIEWER:
Another subject. You’re notorious for answering letters. Is your heavy correspondence related to your art? Doesn’t it get in the way?
DONALD HALL:
Sometimes I wonder, Do I write a letter because it’s easier than writing a poem? I don’t think so. Letters take less time than parties or lunches. How do people in New York get anything done? My letters are my society. I carry on a dense correspondence with poets of my generation and younger. Letters are my café, my club, my city. I am fond of my neighbors up here, but for the most part they keep as busy as I do. We meet in church, we meet at the store, we gossip a little. We don’t stand around in a living room and chat—like the parties I used to go to in Ann Arbor. I write letters instead, and mostly I write about the work of writing.
The poem below got me started thinking about mountains and their symbolism. I discovered a very long article on the subject, “The Transfiguration on Mount Tabor: The Symbolism of the Mountain,” which I don’t have time to read deeply, because as I type this draft, I’m in the midst of packing the car for five of us who will be in the mountains together by the time you read my post. I hope the article is not paywalled. It is a treatise on the subject going back millennia, opening with this from René Daumal:
“[The] summit touches the sphere of eternity, and its base branches out in manifold foothills into the world of mortals. It is the path by which humanity can raise itself to the divine and the divine reveals itself to humanity.”
The Transfiguration, Mount Tabor
The author examines traditions throughout the world, beginning in ancient times and concluding with thoughts on what The Mountain means for us Christians who are on a continuum with those 2,000 years ago. Here is one excerpt to help you know if you are interested in the subject from a scholarly perspective :
“In the traditional Hebrew and Christian understanding of the world, places are what they are by their teleology: it is not so much by the material or structural elements that they are recognized, but by their function. Things are what they are because of their purpose and their place in a web of relationships within reality which help create our own map of meanings. Therefore, it is very difficult to understand from a purely geographical (time-space) position where God dwells with regards to this or that mountain. For this reason, many physical mountains have been ‘the mountain of God’. There is only ‘one’, but it’s not confined to one geographical space-time location as we modern people understand it.”
I guess it’s obvious that I myself am interested, and I thought of printing this article to take with me to the high country, but I’m afraid I won’t have time to read it up there, either. My family and I will be too busy playing around our grandfather’s knees.
THE MOUNTAIN
The Mountain sat upon the Plain In his tremendous Chair— His observation omnifold, His inquest, everywhere—
The Seasons played around his knees Like Children round a sire— Grandfather of the Days is He Of Dawn, the Ancestor—
“The intimate darkness of our most precious cognitive organ constantly reminds us – whether we like it or not – that the “inner” content of any human is never absolutely available to our cognitive powers. The most powerful among the senses, thus, recognizes the deepest human cognitive powerlessness precisely during the encounter with the most powerful sense organ of another human being. However carefully we approach or analyze it, the unique personal existence of every human always stays partly hidden in the darkness of the unknowing.
“And this is most expressively manifested when we encounter the small black dot that is the pupil of the eye. At this place we truly do “enter into the human soul,” but at the same time –confusingly and paradoxically – we realize that we cannot enter it. In this kind of darkness, we can get lost and go crazy, or feel warm and safe – for the same reason: because we cannot possess what it reveals/hides. This darkness can be scary or the most welcoming place in the world for the very same reason: because, herein, we recognize the utmost freedom of the human being.
“Through the encounter with the pupil of another human being, we fall directly into the other’s personal infinity, which can never be fully attained – even if our faces are only a few centimeters from each other. Experiencing this kind of infinity, finally, becomes the cognition of the utmost human freedom – freedom that does not depend even on itself.”
I added paragraph breaks to this excerpt from an article by Todor Mitrović from the Orthodox Arts Journal, on “The Epiphany of the Eye.”
I found the author’s ideas fascinating, and convincing. I am not an artist, but I do gaze upon icons quite a bit. When I do, I am looking through the “window,” not caring to analyze what features of the image are having what effect on me. This article nonetheless does help me to better appreciate the whole phenomenon. The artistry of an icon is not the most important thing about it, but contributes to its beautiful effect on our souls, our deepening relationship to Christ through prayer.
It’s not even midmorning as I am beginning to write this post, and already my Name Day has bestowed several particular delights. One of the first was the ability to take an early walk — it seems so easy when all the conditions are right, and somehow that rarely happens anymore. Hmmm…. Note the passive phrase that flows from my mind, referring to a thing that happens, instead of an action I take. But truly, I am always choosing a direction for my heart to follow, moment by moment, as I respond to constant promptings. This morning I felt no prompting from tired bones to stay in bed, and no prompting from the fog to mope — that tipped the balance.
St. Paisios of Mount Athos
Much as I love the church calendar, and the abundance of events and people to remember and celebrate every day, I don’t always keep in sync with it, or the civil calendar for that matter. Others have told me that they also might miss their name day if someone didn’t remember it for them and wish them a “Happy Name Day!”
I received such a prompt pretty early this morning, as it came from Greece. And the next name-day greeter shared a photo of the icon above, which is by the hand of Janet Jaime, a contemporary iconographer who is new to me. The friend who wrote me from Greece included an encouraging article about holy elders and saints whose prophecies have been much discussed of late, an example being St. Paisios.
Christ praying in Gethsemane
I do think about Current Events, of course. I wouldn’t want to close myself off from what my friends are thinking about, and right now I also have a personal reason to keep at least minimally informed, in that one of my own family members is living in the Middle East and very close to the recent action. Still, it’s important to detach from the stream of noise that is the news, for even half a day, or as long as possible. Because each of us has some work God has given us to do, whether washing the morning dishes or praying on your sick bed, managing a busy restaurant or walking across the street to check on a neighbor. We should be present wherever we physically are.
Today another thing “happened” that became a celebration of my name day, which was the long-awaited lunch together that my goddaughter and I have been trying to accomplish for two years. Naturally we had set the time and place, but without either of us realizing that it was the feast day of St. Joanna, until the day arrived. We spent half the afternoon catching up, and didn’t have a spare moment to talk about events outside of our realm of influence.
Father Stephen Freeman’s blog post for today just happened to be perfect for my name day and my mood: “Everything is in Motion”:
“God’s creation (as we should well know) is everywhere in motion. Every object in the universe is moving (further apart we are told). Even the particles of matter that compose so-called stationary objects (such as rocks) are in motion. Nothing is completely at rest.”
“Everything is in motion, and everything has its direction. That direction is its purpose – its reason for existence and reason for continuing in existence. This reason is its logos. The Logos of all logoi (plural), is Christ Himself.
In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God and the Logos was God. All things were made through Him… (John 1:1)
“Each of us has a purpose and reason for existence. For human beings (and all creation), that purpose is union with God…. We move rightly towards the end for which we were created. Salvation, like all things in God’s creation, is dynamic and not static.”
Fr. Stephen goes on to mention how “dizzying” it can be, to live in the midst of this constant swirl that is our world, and our life. He relates how monasteries on Mount Athos will at times set chandeliers swinging during services, which has been described as “representing the dancing of the angels before God.” We often do this in my parish, with four of the six chandeliers that hold real candles turning and twirling while the flames dance.
When I first experienced this I had no idea I would one day enter the Orthodox Church at that parish. I was sitting on the floor during a Vespers service, having come primarily for a weekend food fair. So much was going on in that space, people coming out and going into the altar, other people bowing before the icons or lighting candles, the choir singing beautifully, and no pause in the hymns of praises going up — that is, a lot of movement! — when my gaze was lifted up to the huge chandelier above me — at that time there being just one — which was being pushed by an altar server in such a way that it began to swing into a wide and majestic arc. I thought at the time, These are serious Christians, to worship so extravagantly.
Over the many years since then, I should have known this tradition was symbolic of something, and not just a random act of jubilation. I found a short video that shows one such otherworldly occasion, where multiple chandeliers are in motion, on the Holy Mountain: The Dance of the Cherubim.
You may find it a little jarring, as I did, when phones and cameras other than the one making that video come into view. But I comforted myself knowing that since the angels are immaterial, they are not able to be seen in person or caught in a video unless they choose to take on a material form. But they are probably too busy doing their work of crying “Holy!”, carrying messages, and dancing, to bother about our devices — at least the material kind.
My day is now coming to an end, and it’s time to bring this post to a full stop. The universe is still in motion, I know, but my rational mind and my fingers will cease moving for a few hours. Thank you, St. Joanna, whose name I bear, for your example in actively following Christ in His earthly life, and for your prayers. Thanks be to God for the many ways I have felt His movement, pulling me in, and giving me the strength and will to respond. It feels very much as though I am in The Dance.
the universe is moving (further apart we are told). Even the particles of matter that compose so-called stationary objects (such as rocks) are in motion. Nothing is completely at rest.”
Gladsome Lights 