GOODNESS FALLING

Last night some enormous snowflakes started falling around suppertime, and it seemed to me like goodness falling in my life. I have no idea where snow comes from or how it’s made, nor do I know where the great goodness I get as a gift each day comes from, but I know it descends on me with strength and quietness moment by moment. Like the snowflakes that let themselves down with lightness on homes and lawns last night, goodwill glides unceasingly down to me. The snowfall was substantial but also easygoing, like the light but pervasive fall of kindliness I feel always around me. Sure, there are things in my life that I wish were different, like the broken parts of the pavement on our street, but the fall of snow last night easily erased the flaws in the street, and the dense and steady fall of goodness into my life effortlessly overpowers any discomforts. The street last night still had its flaws, but the loveliness of the snow outshone them and made them minor and trifling, just as the unceasing signs of graciousness and tenderness in my life let all things, even the sorrows, unobtrusively but persistently shine.  

Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson

A spectacular opening to Chapter 3 ... perfectly lovely writing:


"The Prince was early abroad: in the time of the first chorus of birds, of the pure and quiet air, of the slanting sunlight and the mile-long shadows. To one who had passed a miserable night, the freshness of that hour was tonic and reviving; to steal a march upon his slumbering fellows, to be the Adam of the coming day, composed and fortified his spirits; and the Prince, breathing deep and pausing as he went, walked in the wet fields beside his shadow, and was glad. A trellised path led down into the valley of the brook, and he turned to follow it. The stream was a break-neck, boiling Highland river. Hard by the farm, it leaped a little precipice in a thick grey-mare’s tail of twisted filaments, and then lay and worked and bubbled in a lynn. Into the middle of this quaking pool a rock protruded, shelving to a cape; and thither Otto scrambled and sat down to ponder. Soon the sun struck through the screen of branches and thin early leaves that made a hanging bower above the fall; and the golden lights and flitting shadows fell upon and marbled the surface of that so seething pot; and rays plunged deep among the turning waters; and a spark, as bright as a diamond, lit upon the swaying eddy. It began to grow warm where Otto lingered, warm and heady; the lights swam, weaving their maze across the shaken pool; on the impending rock, reflections danced like butterflies; and the air was fanned by the waterfall as by a swinging curtain. Otto, who was weary with tossing and beset with horrid phantoms of remorse and jealousy, instantly fell dead in love with that sun-chequered, echoing corner. Holding his feet, he stared out of a drowsy trance, wondering, admiring, musing, losing his way among uncertain thoughts. There is nothing that so apes the external bearing of free will as that unconscious bustle, obscurely following liquid laws, with which a river contends among obstructions. It seems the very play of man and destiny, and as Otto pored on these recurrent changes, he grew, by equal steps, the sleepier and the more profound. Eddy and Prince were alike jostled in their purpose, alike anchored by intangible influences in one corner of the world. Eddy and Prince were alike useless, starkly useless, in the cosmology of men. Eddy and Prince — Prince and Eddy."

Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson

"And perhaps, if all the kings in Europe were to confine themselves to innocent amusement, the subjects would be the better off.’

Prince Otto by Robert Louis Stevenson

 From a book I started this morning, here's a charming phrase in a description of the modest country dwelling of Killian Gottesheim ...

"... and down in one corner the comfortable promise of a wine barrel".

The Black Arrow by Robert Louis Stevenson (conclusion)

Here is the beautiful end of a touchingly powerful and beautiful novel. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it -- a book that I always thought was intended for boys, but I see now was written for feeling and thinking readers of any age.  

"In the chancel they found Dick waiting, attended by a few young men; and there were he and Joan united. When they came forth again, happy and yet serious, into the frosty air and sunlight, the long files of the army were already winding forward up the road; already the Duke of Gloucester's banner was unfolded and began to move from before the abbey in a clump of spears; and behind it, girt by steel-clad knights, the bold, black-hearted, and ambitious hunchback moved on towards his brief kingdom and his lasting infamy. But the wedding party turned upon the other side, and sat down, with sober merriment, to breakfast. The father cellarer attended on their wants, and sat with them at table. Hamley, all jealousy forgotten, began to ply the nowise loth Alicia with courtship. And there, amid the sounding of tuckets and the clash of armoured soldiery and horses continually moving forth, Dick and Joan sat side by side, tenderly held hands, and looked, with ever growing affection, in each other's eyes. Thenceforth the dust and blood of that unruly epoch passed them by. They dwelt apart from alarms in the green forest where their love began."

The Black Arrow (Book V, Ch. 4, "The Sack of Shoreby")

In spite of Stevenson’s detailed and gory description of the battle scenes (very realistic descriptions, it would seem), I am thoroughly enjoying this part of the book. He is truly a master writer and storyteller. WIth his polished use of imagery, he brings me right into the heart of the story, but his development of characters is even more amazing. Now, nearing the end of the story, the protagonist, Dick Shelton, has had a major epiphany about the monstrous nature of war. He has seen the tragic effects of his theft of Captain Alblaster’s ship, and thus he has caught a glimpse of how hideous war can be. 

The Black Arrow

"Meanwhile Gloucester dismounted from his horse and came forward to inspect the post. His face was as pale as linen; but his eyes shone in his head like some strange jewel, and his voice, when he spoke, was hoarse and broken with the exultation of battle and success."

Stevenson, Robert Louis (2012-07-22). The Black Arrow : A Tale of the Two Roses (illustrated) (Kindle Locations 2568-2569).  . Kindle Edition.

The Black Arrow,by Robert Louis Stevenson

"The sun was now well up, shining with a frosty brightness out of a yellow halo, and right over against the luminary, Shoreby, a field of snowy roofs and ruddy gables, was rolling up its columns of morning smoke."Such beautiful imagery!

CALLED SOUGHT OUT

“You shall be called Sought Out …”

      -- Isaiah 62:19 (Bible, Amplified Version)

Isaiah said the Israelites would be called Sought Out, but perhaps, in a sense, everything in this universe should be known by the same name. All things, from specks of sand to the spreading stars, from the look of lamplight in my living room to the sunset luster on the Mystic River, should be desired, searched for, and sought out. There’s so much in my life that is in some way wonderful, but often it needs to be pursued with single-mindedness. Even though goodness gives its gifts second by second, sometimes it has to be seriously searched for. Sitting with my laptop near the lights of the Christmas tree this morning, I think of small miracles I can look for today – the way red ribbons beautify a box, the way cars cruise smoothly on well-constructed streets, the way the smiles of friends can send happiness out like sunshine. Driving to our friends for Christmas dinner, I can seek out the looks of pleasure on faces I pass. I can watch for winter’s beauty in whole blocks of towns – bare limbs that look shiny in the sunlight, roofs as clean as a clear sky. I can call a carefully dressed man on a street corner Sought After, and Sought After, too, will be a soaring seagull above Providence, as well as my wife’s slim seashell earrings beside her cheeks.

A SOLITARY STAR

     The wise scholars who saw a strange, solitary star in the sky and sought to follow it are somewhat similar to this still somewhat unwise senior citizen who tries his best to see before him the solitary star called the present moment. It’s always there, shining with a sunniness that can’t me equaled, the single moment in my life that lights all things with the power of the universe and prepares a perfect way for me to live, if only I would notice it. Other lights are also there, of course, the worries that flash and flicker for my attention, but the single light of this present moment has the power to make all other lights soften and disperse. It’s all there is, really. It rises before me, second after surprising second, day after day, and brings with it all the satisfaction I could possibly need. I live my life in unceasing starlight, the constant sparkle of the present moment. Sadly, I’m afraid I miss most of it. 

BEING LOWLY WISE

“Be lowly wise.”

--The angel Raphael to Adam, in Paradise Lost

This is prudent advice for a teacher of teenagers. Certainly I need to be a wise teacher for my innocent and often bewildered students, but I need to always remember how vast is the sea of ignorance inside me, from which small fish of wisdom leap only occasionally, and always in a swift and evanescent manner. Sure, I have some knowledge to share, but I must keep in mind that what I don’t know would fill all the oceans of the world. I am not getting any younger (71 and counting), but in terms of insight and discernment I’m still a puzzled student a strange, measureless world. Perhaps Raphael is telling Adam to be wise in a modest way, to be “smart”, yes, but to also be aware and accepting of his ignorance, because from that “lowly” ignorance can spring, now and then, a small but stunning flash of wisdom.