Good morning. The sun is barely letting me know that the universe is on track with where it's supposed to be this morning. Just popping out. What did it see on the other side of the earth while we slept? What scenes? Places we would love to travel to - the sun gets to visit so regularly. I wish we could get a copy of his journal! What stories he (she? grin) has kept to himself. I love pretending like that. When it seems daunting to me to concentrate on a new book, or when time doesn't give me the privilege of reading in long doses, I pick up books by my bed or nearest shelves that I already know. That interest me. I pulled out Anne Lindberg's letters and diaries again this week and continued her life during 1939. WW2 beginning. Here are some of the thoughts I think you will like to think about this week. On prayer. On saying good-bye.
On the eve of WWII - 1939. Prayer. I go to bed early with a splitting headache and lie down with hot cloths on my eyes. But it goes on. I hear guns booming distantly...I feel I cannot lie in bed any longer - not the eyeache now but as though something would burst inside of me. I get up and go to the window, quietly...and sit on the arm of a chair and look out. It is cool and very tranquil. The ground is dappled with moonlight, though I can't see the moon. The trees, that wall to the west, stand up in the moonlight dimly, drowsily. The air is full of that thick curtain of sound of crickets - a drowning noise, like sleep. It is calm and peaceful. I can see the broken pier down by the water and the dark water beyond, through the trees, and the dim lights-warm gold-of Connecticut on the opposite shore, and I can see two stars in the sky Arcturus? And this terrible ache in my chest - that I can do nothing about. And then I find that I am praying, as I have not prayed since little Charles, and perhaps it is the same, for it is not exactly for myself that I pray, not even as much as when I prayed then. Though I cannot exactly explain this. And I am, in a miraculous way, emptied of all anguish, empty and free, exactly as if there had been bars against my heart and suddenly they had cracked and heart and spirit were free and could leave my body - like death...then I knew it was over and that I must go back to bed, my heart full of gratitude, and I slept.
On privacy of your own thoughts and convictions. One has to hold one's own standards "and not lose too much time or too much courage in explaining your position to others [Rilke].
On a beautiful aged woman: She has a gentle face and looks lovely to me with her gray hair. There is a peace and a beauty about her face that is missing from the rest of the faces there. She blesses us.., "God be with you wherever you go."
On saying good-bye (I picture many of you reading this - saying goodbye to college students, daughters/sons home on holiday...dearest friends, and to those that have died.) (This was written by Charles to Anne)... I feel your absence all around me and I am acutely conscious of the passage of time. When you were here, I was so surrounded by the warmth and satisfaction of your presence that time slipped by unnoticed behind my back. I was keenly aware of you before you came. I am keenly aware of you now that you are gone...
Anne's writings on saying goodbye. I know of course there is a spiritual nearness, I know there is a spiritual independence and that when I touch it I can get the spiritual nearness to you. In other words if I can stay in touch with the core of me then I can stay in touch with you, even better than by the physical crutch of leaning on you when you are there, beside me. Tonight I could not reach the core of me. A physical ache. I wonder if one does establish certain invisible physical bonds when you are near people and then sever them painfully when you leave. Spiritual nearness is something else, more direct, needs no intermediary, no physical closeness. It doesn't go over the wires but is more like a radio wave (comes in flashes). I feel better now - I am refinding the spiritual nearness. Probably one is never further away than in that interim period when the physical bonds are being wrenched apart and the spiritual ones not yet recovered. Good night.
No matter what our situation we can find authors that have an understanding of what we are thinking and who we are. We must all continue to pull down books off of our shelves. To keep the thoughts of those we respect near us. We find strength. We find new inquiries that give our minds something to think about outside of our trivial details that can consume us. We find hope. We find friends. We find understanding. Don't let yourself feel alone. We have so many in history that understand us - but we will only find the connections if we make the search a priority. Not make excuses of being too busy, or not being readers, or not knowing what to read. The thoughts are all around - we just have to make a conscious decision (like eating well or exercise) that we will read. To form our own ideas. To grow. To be challenged. I can't wait for you to see our latest project - where you can look through the books that we would love to have in our inventory. Read below about librarything - the beginning for some of you, and the continuance for others, on making books a priority in our lives. Have a great day. Do not forget the promise that if you'll look up to the hills in prayer - your help will come. A promise. Thanks for letting me be in your morning, and thank you for your encouragement and business in our store. Know that if I'm not in the store when you come over - I see your name and I thank you, not in person, but in my mind! Susan
Latin for this week: (grin! Our past Latin sayings are at the end of this note.)
Sedit qui timuit ne non succederet – "He who feared he would not succeed sat still" (Horace). For fear of failure he did nothing.
Works Cited:
Lindberg, Anne Morrow. War Within and Without: Diaries and Letters 1939-1944. New York. Harcourt Brace. 1980.
