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“If I try to describe him here, it’s so I won’t forget him.
It’s sad to forget a friend. Not everyone has had a friend.
And I might become like the grown-ups who are no longer
interested in anything but numbers.
Which is still another reason why
I’ve bought a box of paints
and some pencils.”
~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
“When we despair of gaining inner transformation
through human powers of will and determination,
we are open to a wonderful new realization:
inner righteousness is a gift from God to be graciously received.
The needed change within us is God’s work, not ours.
The demand is for an inside job, and only God can work from the inside.
We cannot attain or earn this righteousness of the kingdom of God;
it is a grace that is given.”
~ Richard J. Foster, Celebration of Discipline.
Looking for new encouragement, I’m remembering some old words. Times of seemingly endless struggle demand consolation. It does not suffice to simply keep going without good reason and purpose. Straining to see far ahead has a way of diverting from taking stock in the present. The here-and-now is a moving point along undefined timelines; thus it is fluid and ever-changing. When I find myself bewildered with crossroads and closed doors, I reach for words stored deep within that taught me. Perhaps this occurs to you, too. Be strengthened by the good things you’ve learned; they continue to teach.
In graduate school, the finest and most brilliant educator I’ve ever met imparted much more than technique and ability. By the time I graduated, he became a friend with whom to exchange insights and books, and offered advice I needed to face a perennially depressed job market. Last evening, I remembered Professor Anderson’s celebrated course in Reference Services (exceeded only by his inspiring courses in management theory). In our studies that trained us to unambiguously respond to research queries, we were taught about ways in which questions manifest. What is asked is a “wanted,” and what is already established is a “given.” If a question is unclear- and indeed, there is a skill at being able to ask a specific question- we were taught how to draw out what AJ called the real question. Our research assignments involved long lists of intensely complex and arcane reference questions, and we were all turned loose to solve them. But it was not enough to come up with the answers, we wrote detailed analyses of the sources we used, narratives of the hunt for the answers, including our “what-learneds.” The genius in this was that we each had to specifically describe how we proceeded- all the fits-and-starts- and what we learned in the process. All of this information was in addition to our having answered the reference questions. Clearly, the teaching rationale had deeper goals than to superficially train data-brokers. We were being taught to synthesize queries, sources, information formats, and facilitate guidance in ways that would be appropriate to those we serve.
One pointer from AJ that I’ve always cherished is, “read with an eye to application.” A marvelously affirming phrase that describes how I value my studies with respect to how they can be applied. Through implementation, we can find out how much we’ve really learned. Further, the prospect of becoming able to embody what is learned, my reading and listening are actually enhanced. There are things to comprehend and practice, hence there is much to be distilled and taken to heart. And still further, the learning need never cease. Through this, we’d all like to think we grow wiser with the passage of time. Age is generally thought to be equivalent to an increase in wisdom. But is this true? Perhaps adaptability is the best testament to cultivated wisdom. How attentive and consistent is that sense of application through transitions of living? Going for walks through and around places trimmed with remembrances causes me to notice changes, and reminds me that time never stops. The same trees are different now, the same buildings have new shops and paint colors, and this same person walks with this year’s shoes.
Equal parts of vigilance must be assigned to both constancy and innovation. This is to say perseverance to keep on going, alongside a watchfulness to make opportunities. Duly note while giving due diligence to possibilities for betterment. I can only hope for an improved level of perceptive alertness that empowers me to alter my own course when necessary. More things are changeable than we tend to realize. When I was very active in the field of commercial photography, I learned to customize every new piece of equipment to accommodate getting the job done. Those lenses, easels, tripods, and camera backs were merely raw materials when unpacked from their boxes. As we increase in our knowledge of the crafts we practice, our sense of refining our basics continues to heighten. In addition, experience gives us an ability to anticipate results to correspond with efforts, ingredients, and time allotted.
Here in northern New England, winter has cycled down into customary deep freeze. This is the flip side of summer’s “dog days,” in every way- from shortened days to dormant forests. Seasons notwithstanding, continuum rolls on. Motion is never fully stilled. And with such consideration in mind, embarked upon this new year, I hope the progress of my steps increases and does not stagnate. Applying principles as they are learned will counteract emptiness of word and action.
Several nights ago, I was awakened by remembrances from a job I once had which resembled a sports highlight video- except these were the low-lights. A barrage of my most regrettable moments, strung together, from an inconsequential number of years past. Gathering my wits, I reminded myself of the uselessness of replaying buried and otherwise nonexistent events. Thus, lying awake at 2 a.m., I lulled myself back to sleep by very deliberately giving thanks for what had been positive about that job, and for all I’ve learned through the years. When I woke, it occurred to me how recollections must be forged into constructive tools, rather than anchors.
Make the present what the past hadn’t been. History can indeed be used for changing patterns and taking forward action. We can all look back to our own historic intersections at which we chose higher roads. No doubt there will continue to be such crossroad experiences.
Rather than attempt at generating an inventory, I’ll simply recall my gratitude for the times I chose not to engage a goading, and for the better decisions I’ve made in realms of projects, travels, creative pursuits, and relationships. I once worked with a man who had burned his bridges to such a detriment that on the occasion in which he had to be hospitalized after a grisly traffic accident, I was his only visitor. Although he had stolen property from me, it was painful to hear people make fun of his condition. So I went to bring him cheer. It was the right thing to do. On another occasion, years ago, I might have easily nominated myself into a grant-funded project to follow an initial assignment at a certain workplace- but declined due to questionable ethics I’d witnessed. Completing my work and moving on to better affiliations, I did the right thing. As I comprehend the cultivation of diligence, I appreciate the skill of sizing up a situation. It is unwise to be drawn into settings that are counter-intuitive, but it is wise to notice the appropriate occasions to walk the extra mile. Part of that is knowing when and how to adapt with the present, dignifying and implementing the goodness that has been absorbed.
In this long and complex journey, the written chronicle serves as an indispensable witness. If resilience attests to the what-learneds of life’s pilgrimage, then faithful and honest journaling is the voyage’s testament. My writing continuum flexibly moves between description and exploration, the only guideline being that of candor. In so doing, the words are my own reportage- a unique form of journalism. After all, reporting the journey generates an investigative primary account. The documentation and its topics exist together in the same provisional dynamism. Reading back in time to past entries, much as those walks to familiar places, is its own time-lapse photography. With each carriage return, scroll, and margin-release of my typewriter, with each round of syphoned ink, and with each whittled-down pencil, the written record follows time’s perpetual motion. That which is seen and heard- the experiential (or, in 17th century parlance, the experimental)- registers in our inner reference tomes. When I was 16, an octogenarian neighbor taught me to end each substantial meal with something sweet-tasting; this way the appetite is properly sealed for the next repast. I still do this, following his effective advice with a morsel of chocolate or a cereal bar, while remembering my elderly friend’s marmalade toast.
“I've been havin' some hard travelin', I thought you knowed
I've been havin' some hard travelin', way down the road
I've been havin' some hard travelin', hard ramblin', hard gamblin'
I've been havin' some hard travelin', Lord.”
~ Woody Guthrie, Hard Travelin’
“Is there, in this place, any relief
for Pilgrims that are weary on the Way?”
The Shepherd replied, “The Lord of these mountains
has given us charge not to be ‘forgetful to entertain strangers,’
so, the good of the country is before you.”
~ John Bunyan, The Pilgrim’s Progress.
It is a turn of a calendar page, and only according to one (albeit predominant) tradition of time-keeping; we are in a new decade. The clean slate of a new year reminds me of how far I’ve already travelled. A new epoch, a newly-marked span of time, provides a new occasion for new ways of thinking. And having only so much time, adopting changed perspectives makes it necessary to discard the obsolete. As difficult as these times have been, there is reason yet to give thanks for new promise. Look forward to the good that is yet to happen. Being able to do this calls for some daring: a combination of boldly anticipating and accurately remembering. Keep sights fixed forward, while experience is preserved and accessible. Just the other day, I thought of the shepherd’s staff of Moses- how the walking stick used to signal and gather a small flock was recast into a directing object to guide numerous human souls in his care. If you will, a workingman’s sceptre. In our own transforming eras, our tools can be recast. The implements of our creativity have potential to be means for the transformation of more that just our selves. What is yet to be discovered may well be already in our midst. As the winter forest, that which is dormant is indeed very much alive.
From beneath the cover of darkness, light can still overcome. Observe what is in your midst, and see what is happening. It is an exercise of vision, to notice and take stock of the good that already is. Writing these words in my local public market-house, my notations are scribed between greetings with friends that pass by, bites of my lunch, and the general activity of a vibrant community space. Much is happening around me, among vendors, customers, visitors, and writers. Each transaction, entrance, exit, written word, and sketched drawing surely has a narrative. An event is real to us when it is immediately before us; its reality ceases when it becomes past, and it is not yet real when it’s in the future. But the ways we perceive and interpret the world are quite tangible as well as intertwined with the moment. Glancing back and gazing ahead provides occasional context to the present.
“Look at what you’ve got going for you,” is often part of the encouragement I give to friends- and ought to be advice for me to internalize. Seeing things as they really are requires wisdom to notice what already exists, ready at hand, to sufficiently and indefinitely sustain the soul. Fleetfootedly bounding across town to my employment, it occurred to me how easily the already can be taken for granted. Past is forgiven, hopefulness opens the future, and potential fuels the day.
The idea of realization is a thread running through our own histories, and we can identify this exemplified in the stories we know. There is that character type that traverses obstacles through a death-defying odyssey, only to realize they already possessed what they sought. A story like The Wizard of Oz takes the point of “no further than your own back yard” quite literally. In A Christmas Carol, the Ebenezer Scrooge character makes the opportunity to change course, but for Charles Foster Kane, in Citizen Kane, it is tragically too late. Envious of what most of us mortals take for granted, the angel Damiel character in Wings of Desire scraps his celestial existence in favor of gritty humanness. In most dramatic fashion, the fable presented in It’s a Wonderful Life begins as the protagonist tries to carry out his suicide attempt. George Bailey is killing himself to find what he unknowingly already has. He wants to see the world, but never gets out of Bedford Falls, and he learns- as these other stories’ characters do- how wealth manifests in more than one form.
The story of The Pilgrim’s Progress provides a vivid example when the protagonist’s travels bring him and his companion to Doubting Castle, where they are captured and tortured by the giant named Despair. In this allegory, Despair takes hold and nearly annihilates the travellers. Beaten to the ground of their dungeon, they ask each other, “shall we be ruled by this giant?” I like to think of the pilgrim’s tone as being one of indignation- as in, ‘are we going to be pushed around by despair?’
True to metaphorical form, the pilgrim has the timely epiphany: “What a fool I am, thus to lie in a stinking dungeon when I may as well walk at liberty!” He realizes he’s had a key in his breast pocket all the while, the key being called “Promise,” and with that a successful escape is made from Despair’s imprisonment.
Our reading and viewing, our lived experience and immediate present, remind us to consider what already is- ground already covered and trials surmounted. Allegorical films and novels teach us over and again how we are actually equipped with the forces we need to fulfill our vocations, assert our voices and abilities, and work on behalf of others. In this seemingly endless valley of dry bones, I must keep in mind that I already have the requisite light to make the passage. The invitation extended to me simply requires my response. By realizing and remembering , we know The Already, and this becomes discerned, reinforcing strength.
When something is already, it has manifested in advance of our cognizance- either shortly beforehand, unwittingly and away from our attention, or before time as we know it. Most nights, I set up my timer-rigged coffeemaker to brew before I wake. Thus, at my pre-dawn ablutions, I cross my cold floors to find hot coffee already made. Then there are other ways to affect alreadiness, such as direct deposits and payments, automatic digital file notifications, highway tollbooth transponders, broadcast downloads, and other such conveniences to answer the persistent wish that things happen by themselves. Indeed, within these means is an implicit degree of trust. Ponder the idea that drives us to want things done ahead of time. We hunger to be ahead of the game, without missing an opportunity. Of course, I want all my efforts to go smoothly and to always be prepared, and of course that is more fantasy than reality.
But do any of us realize the grace and potential we already have at hand? Even some of it? How about just enough without being overwhelmed? In his essay Now or Never, Richard Baxter wrote, “There is more power in you than you use, or than you are well aware of. It wants but awakening to bring it into act.” The 17th century minister echoed the exclamation of the ancient Isaiah’s, “Arise, shine; for your light is come.” These biblical verses are often the meditation for the observance of the Epiphany. And embedded in Isaiah’s illustration of the brilliance and glory within our reach is, “lift up your eyes and look around... your heart will thrill and rejoice.” Do I- or any of us- know what we have working in our favor? What horizons are open before us? In the crepuscule, we crave brilliance. Epiphany is even more powerful than the hardness of our constrictions. The already is subtly apparent, and easily missed. With the legendary pilgrims, I can arrive at the realization that hope and promise are already with me, and have been for a much longer time than I’ve known.
