“I eschew all clear cut interpretations: with increasing simplification the mystery heightens. What I know tends to become more and more unstateable. I live in certitude, a certitude which is not dependent upon proofs or faith.”—Henry Miller, Wisdom Of The Heart
From the chaos of Black Spring and the Tropics to the calm of Wisdom Of The Heart what journey had Miller undergone? Just listen to the title of his later works: The Colossus Of Maroussi, Stand Still Like The Hummingbird, Big Sur And The Oranges Of Hieronymus Bosche, My Bike And Other Friends.
What and how the change? He recounts it himself, in The Rosi-Crucifixion trilogy.
“Understanding is not a piercing of the mystery, but an acceptance of it, a living blissfully with it, in it, through and by it.”—Henry Miller, Wisdom Of The Heart
And: “Like the primal spirit of the universe, like the unshakable absolute, the One, the All, the creator, i.e., the artist, expresses himself by and through imperfection. It is the stuff of life, the very sign of livingness.”—Henry Miller, Wisdom Of The Heart
This isn’t writing. Sure, it’s contained between the covers of a book…but writing? Libraries are filled with writing; the internet is drowning in it. Writing is everywhere and everyone is a writer, but who is…. channeling? Who is uttering Words that issue from the Mystery?
When those Words blossom forth the individual—the one true and unique soul—who hymns them doesn’t stand up and say ‘buy my book!’, ‘make me rich and put me up on a pedestal!’, ‘give me fame and accolades!’
No. Rather he or she says: ‘who gives a shite whether you listen or read them or not. Has that anything to do with me? These Words don’t belong to me; they belong as much to you as to me. The sounds you hear, the Words on a page you read have their echo within yourselves, if only you find the quiet, the courage and humility to listen to the voice within.’
The world is a noisy place, and getting noisier by the day. That’s ok though.
Quiet places remain. Oasis abound, if only we open our eyes.