“I adjure you by the living God Almighty and by your duty to our Order and by the love you have for me, that so long as I am alive you will never tell anyone what I am going to tell you. ….Everything that I have written seems to me worthless in comparison with the things I have seen and which have been revealed to me.”—Thomas Aquinas, as taken from Joseph Campbell’s Creative Mythology
Nothing like falling silent for a certain measure of time. Why feel a compulsion to write something when it’s either not there or you’re off somewhere else? Or when our day to day language fails to serve as a medium of communication, fails as the bridge between two souls?
Take a sabbatical.
When you finally finish a colossal work such as Joseph Campbell’s Masks Of God series there is an inevitable cooling off period. One’s head has been immersed in a torrent, one’s eyes have been turned inward. When the last page is done one has difficulty focusing on the outer world, everything around is song and symphony and our daylight workadaddy eyesight is deaf to the music.
And when you have spent the better part of three months in the company of genius returning to our day to day existence can be unsettling. That much time basking in the rarified air of Wisdom cannot help but alter one in some way or other. When it comes to stepping out of the house and rubbing shoulders with the crowd once more the sort of alteration I’m referring to can only cause trouble, create friction. Best tread softly, speak in monosyllables—metaphorically that is.
So one need start again slowly. Maybe throw in a photo or two. Above all avoid attempting any sort of explanations. There are none.
The lizard knows what I’m talking about, without of course understanding a word.
Oh, and this one. A crumbling Triumphal Roman Arch in the shadow of a Church. What was the Collective Spirit of the people who erected these two pieces of architecture? Where did the people go that walked amidst these ancient Roman ruins?
It’s been a while since I’ve said this,
But Life is ALL there is.