daylight savings

“Leave behind sensible perceptions and intellectual efforts,
and all objects of sense and of intelligence, and all things
being and not being, and be raised aloft above knowledge to union,
as far as is attainable, with God who is above every attribute
and knowledge. For by an ecstatic restlessness from yourself
and everything, you will be carried up
to the superessential ray of the Divine Dark.”

~ Dionysius the Areopagite, The Mystical Theology

spanning the darkness

At this time of year, darkness arrives earlier, absorbing horizons seamlessly, over longer spans of time. After enough years of turns around the calendric cycle, I shouldn’t be so shocked at the sudden loss of light. But this year I am taking note. Normally, I’d dismiss the change, much as I’d shrug off a routine decrease of a benefit or some rate increase to a monthly bill. Our adaptive nature may compensate for a continuum of absorption, but it does not regulate reluctance.

Regularly, my workplace phone greeting identifies my department, followed by the respective portion of the day, such as good morning. Often, as I pick up the phone, I look at my watch, to verify whether the moment precedes or has come after transiting the meridian. Late in the day, I check the window. My tendency is to judge between afternoon and evening by sensing the strength of light. The other day, I heard myself say, “good evening,” while answering the phone and looking to the window; my watch read 4:30 in the afternoon.

Lengthened darkness is surely noticeable while on the road. With earlier sunsets, an evening’s navigation resembles a midnight drive. Beyond my headlights’ reach, the surface ahead, left and right, as well as the sky, have identical textures. Medians and guardrails dissolve into the same crepuscule. Shrouds of darkness can be as forbidding as they are compelling. Philosophers of old referred ambiguously to the symbols of the abyss and the labyrinth. The abyss represents groundless unknowing, a gulf without comprehensible perimeters. It also represents limitless expanse, uncharted potential. The labyrinth symbolizes constraint, rigidity which cannot be transcended, yet still uncertain of the destination. Conversely, guidelines symbolize the certainty of terra cognita and the safety of conformity. Borderless darkness identifies with experiences of both the abyss and the labyrinth. Expanse and narrowness accompany the night voyager, testing whether being rests upon belief.




torchbearer

Being a torchbearer amidst reduced visibility demands strength of vigilance. Strength is easily taken for granted, and we use it without much thought or notice. Waking from sleep is simultaneous with physical reaching. But strength is indeed cultivated coordination; it doesn’t happen by itself. Vigilantly, we can be more than our impulses. Describing his philosophy of being, in the context of historiography, Ortega y Gasset observed in his poetic plainness:

“Life is given to us; we don’t give it to ourselves, rather we find ourselves in it, suddenly and without knowing how. But the life which is given us is not given us ready-made; we must make it for ourselves, each one their own.”

Carrying the light across the trackless dark requires a supply of healthful provisions of the spirit. Creativity combats monotony. Keeping a constructive course is a balance of exploration and expression. For me, this means continuing to learn and to reflect. Reading and writing have been tandem nutrients, and I’ve found the one needs the other, or both skills will suffer. To pursue studies and the writer’s adventure means persevering as an inquiring observer. I’ll also say, as an observing inquirer. Writing in this spirit is as one keeping watch, making note of the light- especially as it may turn to increase, ever so slowly.

Expectation is a vital provision, and it is strengthened by an available sense of remembrance. Remembering lights and blessings past has helped me through arduous traversals. Alongside remembering events and gestures is knowing to call upon learned survival skills. I’ve seen sharply-focused routes benefited by healthful diversions that lift the spirit and remind me of the larger context within which my life is actually a small part. Having many artistic and intellectual interests provides various points of reference to distract the natural tendency that dwells upon one perspective. As the popular adage goes, at the occasion of seasonal time change, we “fall back to spring ahead.” Through standard time, a daylight’s savings might help during spells of depletion. The long-range hope must continue to be faith in emergence from obscurity.

sources

Light sources needn’t be limited to short days and lamps. As in any embarkation, knowledge of resources is essential. That means discerning the present and knowing what is needed. A cultivated sense of direction helps me to stay on course. But navigating is no passive thing. When protracted darkness remains unilluminated, the aspiring soul must know to be lit by the night. Saints and sages of old teach us to unrelentingly reach for the Divine, come what may. Dionysius wrote of God as the Hidden Dark, above all things manifest, and above thought. Our thoughts are, after all, limited to dealing with what is differentiated and related. Yet although God cannot be fully known, continued Dionysius, we can nevertheless reach and experience the attributes of God.

Truly a torchbearer in the darkness of the 9th century, Johannes Scottus Eriugena was known to say, “there are as many theophanies as there are saintly souls.” Eriugena was the remarkable scholar brought from Ireland to the royal court of France, to translate classical philosophical works from Greek into Latin. Among the manuscripts he translated were those of Dionysius. His crowning work was the astonishingly innovative Periphyseon, a complex work that was widely appreciated centuries later. Eriugena built brightly in the shadows of his times, explaining how Divine manifestations are understandable to us as processions. He wrote that God may be comprehended as darkness, due to God’s transcendence. This darkness is actually lux excellentiam, the ineffable light which simply appears dark because of its transcendent intensity. Creation, observed Eriugena, is a paradox, as the original darkness of God, which is no-thing, becomes light; it becomes something. Eriugena inspires readers to sense the similarities between source and destination, between creation and regathering. He preserved sources, while producing sources based upon his experience and learning.

One wonders if thinkers such as Eriugena considered their own times as “dark ages.” Apparently, their greater efforts were invested in pedagogy and preserving knowledge; they may not have thought to editorialize in writing. Perhaps the greater work was to persevere, to keep on going. Carrying light through darkness, even discovering luminous mysteries by darkness itself, is incidental. Perhaps it happens as we persist, as we endure without losing sight of transcendent holiness, holding fast to what is good. But “holding fast” mustn’t be mistaken with inactivity, or clutching as we might hold on to objects. Endurance manifests as something productive, as forward progress. A life’s pilgrimage is a human’s longterm project. What is needed, in order to find light amidst undefined darkness? What is the proper equipage? That is itself a mystery, wrapped in mystery. More concretely is the vitality of encouraging and comforting others, aware to receive encouragement and comfort from others. Maintaining essentials in clear view needn’t depend upon available light, considering its unpredictability. Deep within the crucible, as I see it, is to be consistent and close to the Source of life and goodness through the unknowing.

preservation and imprint

“Those who have greatly cared for any book whatever
may possibly come to care, some day, for good books.
The organs of appreciation exist in them.”

~ C. S. Lewis, The World's Last Night.

Beginning to look back at my studies at Oxford, and how they continue on, my sense of direction is reinforced. While thoughts linger and digest the rich experiences of the late-summer and early autumn past, I proceed to absorb new learning with renewed perspective. Though I’ve been backlogged in my writing projects, I’ve continued my usual reading and note-taking. It seems natural to nurture a thirsting spirit with persevering studies into inspiring literature. It is also evidently unavoidable. Just the other day, at the Boston Athenaeum, the slant of late-day light streaming in through west-facing windows lit the small ancient book in my hands. The side-lighting cast shadows from paper fibers and into typographic embossed crevasses. Such tomes that reflect the light of this very day attest to worlds and times beyond the generations of our ancestors.

As with the memories and lyrics we carry with us, so our received words of inspiration help to carry us along this earthly sojourn. That which I have beheld and handled, and have even listened to, in the tones of written words, occurs to me now as having been made available to me. Whether across millennia, centuries, or modern decades, enduring words are gratefully received as they are handed down and across to my fledgling hands. At the Bodleian Library, the books and documents of my studies came from many different places- and I myself had done so, too. Words and images have reached me, as I have reached for them, and their origins share a collective mystery with their conveyance to this present era.


books

At Oxford, I was elated to find the Bodleian preserves and maintains a manuscript of Johannes Scottus Eriugena (9th c.), who has been dear to me for many years. Supporting research into the works of his thought, the library also includes a collection of printed offerings about Eriugena and early Medieval philosophy. I even found a contemporary publication about Eriugena, at the Oxford University Press bookstore, and added it to my own collection. The constraints of long-distance travel limited how many books I could fly back with (and how many I could mail), due to their weight.

Another volume well worth procuring was a book I learned about as my steps traversed paths left by Tyndale (16th c.), and that is Sir Thomas Wilson’s Arte of Rhetorique, originally published in 1553. The edition I purchased is an imprint published at the University’s Clarendon Press in 1909. It had been artfully made to replicate the quality of a 16th century book, using thick paper stock, replicating the original typography, marginalia, and frontispiece illustration.

Written by the headmaster of Magdalen College, the work itself had been a textbook used at Oxford in Tyndale’s years, and had instructed and influenced countless scholars. Its themes treat the subjects of eloquence, oration, and the clear organization of knowledge. Often the text blends in the author’s reasons for clarity of thought, which are to reflect the sacred. Sir Thomas dares his readers to excavate the ways of holiness: “Who would digge and delve from Morne till Evening? Who would travaile and toyle with ye sweat of his browes?” The wise advice presented by the book is strongly reminiscent of Eriugena’s spirit of division and recollection (divisoria et resolutiva). Ancient guides continue to teach.


conservation

Being an archivist and conservator by trade and livelihood, I was graciously introduced by the Bodleian staff to the university’s conservation department, known as Collections Care. Responding to their generous invitation, I was privileged to spend a day at the bindery and laboratory. The department is located in Osney, along the River Thames, in a western district of the city. Reaching the “Osney One” complex from the university provided an opportunity to walk along a very narrow stretch of the river. Lined with canal boats and trees, the walk to Osney is a meditative diversion from the city center’s density and crowds.

Repositories of rare and archival research materials balance the tandem mission of preservation and access. We preserve in order to assure availability. There may seem an inherent conflict, as handling could be seen to be endangering preservation, and watchful conservation could be seen as an endangerment to potential handling. Inevitably, research libraries establish workable compromises that protect the integrity of original artifacts, while also extending opportunities to readers. Continuity in physical conservation parallels the continuum of scholarly access.

Conservation of a medieval book : rebinding the signatures
(gathers of pages).

The paper conservators at Osney demonstrated how they had been processing the personal papers of radio pioneer Guglielmo Marconi, as the collection had been accessioned by Oxford. The documents were being mounted in fascicules, which are interleaved archival albums. The same treatments had been done with the C. S. Lewis papers, and subsequently as I proceeded with my studies in the research rooms, I remembered what I had seen at Osney. Careful inventorying, cataloguing, and physical treatments all happen before a manuscript or rare book reaches the library shelves and reading tables.

New binding, cords, and custom-fitted
wooden boards, to be covered with new leather.

Along with some great discussions about our respective projects, we examined the conservation phases of a medieval book of hours. The book had been purchased for the university, because in its contents there is mention of Oxford. Requiring a full-scale restoration, the book needed to be rebound and recased using the most authentic materials possible. A specific type of leather was chosen, to stretch over the new signature cords, and custom shaped wooden boards that had been purchased from a lumber company in Wales that supplies the Bodleian Library. There are numerous such tomes in the Library’s collections, each requiring their own treatments- whether extensive or simple maintenance. Archival material has its own axiology, and we speak of the value of the original artifact as being evidence of an action, or a person’s creative thought, or the documentation of decisions. The intrinsic value of a manuscript often refers to the integrity of an original artifact which cannot be replicated because it is the item that had been written upon, owned by a specific person, or had made a historic voyage.

oxford university press

Written words are preserved and rejuvenated by conservation. For centuries, the printed word has been produced with presses, bound, and further extended. (Electronic formats extend the contents of the printed word still more.) During my residency in Oxford, I had the pleasure of visiting the famous Oxford University Press, and meeting with their archives’ staff. The Press is a department of the University, and its printing operations began in 1478, shortly after Johannes Gutenberg’s innovations with moveable type and printing presses. Oxford University Press has been at its present location, on Walton Street, since 1830, having been previously based in the Sheldonian Theatre (in the 17th century), and in the Clarendon Building (in the 18th century). It came to mind how great many of my graduate school texts were produced by Oxford, which also includes their academic Clarendon Press. The large buildings at Walton Street include an informative gallery of artifacts displaying milestones in the continuing history of Oxford University Press. A visit is well worthwhile.

Printing press at Oxford University Press













Oxford English Dictionary display.
Documents below are Dictionary editorial notes made by
J.R.R. Tolkien, who contributed to production.

Returning to my work at the Bodleian Library, I unavoidably noticed spine labels bearing the Oxford Press imprint on countless books in the reading rooms and aisles of shelving. I subsequently noticed this, back in New England libraries, and amusingly back in my apartment. As with my research, the visits with Collections Care, as well as Oxford University Press, have added an enhanced sensitivity to the artistry related to the sustenance of written artifacts.


reading on

Bodleian Library

Travelling on, and reading on, written and printed words speak in bolder tones to my mind’s ear. Readings which inspire most embody a totality of sound, substance, and typographic aesthetic beauty. Illuminated thoughts reach me by reflectant pages. Words combine to transfer a message which is received and transposed by my reading. Or by your reading. Written words adorn the roads of our reading voyages, and I have seen my own path has definitively navigated ports and passages of places which inspire future articulation.

place and time

“What was sown in momentariness is raised in still permanence.
What was sown as a becoming rises as being.
Sown in subjectivity, it rises in objectivity.
The transitory secret of two is now a chord in the ultimate music.”

~ C. S. Lewis, Letters to Malcolm

Places and times of embarkation provide reminders of our paths, of our ways and distances already covered. As we begin to clearly sense the verge of discovery, an awareness of the sum of our being emerges. In newness, historic roots are revealed. Even modest and unknown lives find profound significance, when viewed in the context of pilgrimage. Yes, even small steps through fleeting sojourns can represent forward progress and meaning to influence a lifetime.

My father likes to recount how his father, long before I was born, would describe his adventures as he immigrated across Europe and the Atlantic to New York. He built a great career as a portrait photographer, beginning simply and from scratch as a photo retoucher. I’ve been told that he’d say, “I made a living with a pencil,” referring to the essential retouching implement used for brightening negatives. Many years later, my grandmother found about a dozen of his retouching pencils and gave them to me when I went to art college. One of them was in my shirt pocket when I arrived at the University of Oxford this past August to finalize my registration to study there. Having applied this past winter to be a research fellow, I reported to the Clarendon building in my role as Scholar-in-Residence. The writing samples accompanying my fellowship application were drawn from La Vie Graphite. A life brought forward by a pencil.

Above: The Clarendon Building, University of Oxford, England.
Below: Research in the Bodleian Library, using one of my grandfather's pencils.

Clarendon, on Broad Street, is at the northern end of a double quadrangle at the core of the ancient Bodleian Library buildings. Throughout the month after arriving in Oxford, my steps threaded the stone arches of these quads, along with countless lanes, courtyards, and passages. This great opportunity, sponsored by the C.S. Lewis Foundation, permitted me to study the manuscripts of Lewis, and to live in his home, The Kilns. With my identification card, all of the many and varied reading rooms throughout the Bodelian Library’s system became available to me. These are the vast and deep resources (the tunneling Gladstone Link, beneath Radcliffe Square has two underground levels) that serve the entire University of Oxford. In addition to my programme of study with the Lewis archives, there was plenty of time to research and read portions of other collections of personal interest, such as in the Philosophy and Theology Faculties Library. Each search produces adventure. Indeed, there was also time to observe and write. There are many stories.

Bodleian Library, Oxford.

My journal was always close by (pencils only, in Special Collections, as well as in the hallowed Duke Humfrey’s Library). On occasion, looking up from tomes, handwritten documents, or even from a table of tea and scones, the idea of place and time came to mind. Pilgrimage sees the individual aperch on a wooden pier in Maine, as well as in a storied medieval library- and back again. Similar to my grandfather’s mechanical pencil, the soul becomes witness to many places and times. Looking up at wave upon wave of shelved books, interspersed by vaulting latticed windows, the significance and wonder of place and time began to appear unified with the continuum of pursuit. Strolling, visiting, and dining in the city of Oxford, meeting new friends, and returning home to The Kilns every day brought together the pursuits of inspiration, knowledge, and improvement. And needed respite.

At The Kilns, C.S. Lewis' home.

Remembering the cycles of creation as advancing and returning, spreading and recollecting- or as Eriugena described in the Periphyseon: division and resolution- the many facets of these travels are more clearly seen in retrospect. There are numerous photographs and notes to add to my digestion of my sojourn in Oxford, followed by a return journey to Wales. True to any pilgrimage, these experiences and impressions have surely had their effects, though in time I will be able to delineate them. For the time being, I’ve resumed the place and time I’d interrupted so that I could inhabit other places and times, and the present is now something entirely different.