Poems I Journey With 22

Portrait of William Blake by Thomas Phillips

History has always thrown up amazing geniuses. There can be few more talented and extraordinary than William Blake (1757-1827). The list of his accomplishments is wide and varied: poet, artist, engraver, mystic and prophet. We are all acquainted with his simpler lyrics and even with his more popular engravings from our school days. However, behind these seemingly effortless and simple verses lies a complex and talented man of vision. Behind the popular engravings lurks a restless soul and talented artist.

Reading his poetry and studying his paintings and engravings can bring much pleasure and not a little insight into Blake's mystical and prophetic vision, both dimensions of which were so sui generis as to make his work in poetry and engraving individual and non-derivative to a fault. 

Before setting out to read Blake, one should realize that he was almost completely self-taught. This would probably account for much of his unconventional spelling and punctuation, and for his inconsistent use of terminology in his longer and more complex works. Also it is important to bear in mind that he was rebellious in spirit and just did not like to conform. He was original to a fault. Having spent seven years as an apprentice engraver, he progressed to study art at the Royal Academy but quit after a year because he rebelled against the aesthetic doctrines of its president, Sir Joshua Reynolds. 

In writing his poetry, Blake also broke with convention by rejecting the high neoclassical style and modes of thought then current, preferring a simple and direct style – the language of the ordinary people that prefigures by some twenty years Wordsworth’s pursuit of the same goal – as exemplified in his lyrics. He was a nonconformist in religion, being born into a Dissenting tradition that encouraged extemporary hymn-singing. Hence, much of his religious thoughts were unorthodox and even heretical by the standards of the more orthodox Christian churches. However, having borne these preliminary qualifications in mind, we can still find his writings inspiring and personally enriching.

This evening I wish to offer the reader a copy of William Blake’s wonderful and much anthologized lyric "The Tyger" to read and to reflect meditatively upon.  Immediately, if you are a lover of Blake’s poems you will be struck forcefully by the strong contrast with the poem "The Lamb." ("Little Lamb, who made thee? //Dost thou know who made thee?" The answer is, of course, God, who became incarnate as Jesus the Lamb.) Here in this lyric "The Tyger," Blake asks the rhetorical question, "Did he who made the Lamb make thee?" And the answer is, of course, "Yes, God made the Tyger too."

A copy of the original engraving of Tyger by Blake

If we are to appreciate and understand "The Tyger" as fully as we possibly can, we need to know Blake's symbols. One of the central themes in his major works is that the Creator of the world is a great blacksmith. This is both God the Creator (personified in Blake's myth as Los) and Blake himself (again with Los as his alter-ego.) As an engraver and as an artist, Blake identified God's creative process with the work of anyone engaged in any artistic pursuits.

Blake's story of creation differs from the Genesis account – as I’ve already pointed out he is totally unorthodox in his personal beliefs, and this is something that endears him to the present writer as he had the courage to be wholly different at a time when it was simply anathema to be so. The familiar world was created only after a cosmic catastrophe according to Blake. The longer books that Blake wrote describe Los's creation of animals and people within the world of nature after that catastrophe. One particularly powerful passage in "Milton" describes Los's family weaving the bodies of each unborn child.

In believing that creation followed a cosmic catastrophe and a fall of spiritual beings into the atoms of matter, Blake recalls the early heresy of Gnosticism, a multi-faceted religious movement that had run parallel to mainstream Christianity. Unlike most other Gnosticizers, Blake considered our own world to be a fine and wonderful place, but one that would ultimately give way to a restored universe. Blake believed that his own visions, which included end-of-the-world or apocalyptic images and sometimes a sense of cosmic oneness, prefigured this restored world, and that his art would help raise others "to the perception of the infinite." For Blake as for St. Irenaeus, the purpose of creation is as a place for our own growth, where we are allowed to mature through our encountering very rough experiences of evil in its many manifestations in preparation for the beginning of our real lives. On the one hand, while the natural world contained much that is gentle and innocent (which we read about in the wonderful lyrics of "Songs of Innocence"), those who are experienced with life ("Songs of Experience") know that there is also much that is terrible and frightening. In other words, what I am getting at here is that the "fearful symmetry" we read about in “The Tyger” is the paradoxical contrast between the gentleness of the lamb and the fierceness of the  tiger – in other words we have here the paradoxical mix of innocence and experience in the one poem.

3

The Tyger

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright, 
In the forests of the night, 
What immortal hand or eye 
Could frame thy fearful symmetry? 

In what distant deeps or skies 
Burnt the fire of thine eyes? 
On what wings dare he aspire? 
What the hand dare seize the fire? 

And what shoulder, & what art, 
Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 
And when thy heart began to beat, 
What dread hand? & what dread feet? 

What the hammer? what the chain? 
In what furnace was thy brain? 
What the anvil? what dread grasp 
Dare its deadly terrors clasp? 

When the stars threw down their spears, 
And water'd heaven with their tears, 
Did he smile his work to see? 
Did he who made the Lamb make thee? 

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright 
In the forests of the night, 
What immortal hand or eye 
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? 

Thoughts on the Tao Te Ching 28

Poem 28

Know the male,

yet keep to the female:

receive the world in your arms.

If you receive the world,

the Tao will never leave you

and you will be like a little child.

Know the white,

yet keep to the black:

be a pattern for the world.

If you are a pattern for the world,

the Tao will be strong inside you

and there will be nothing you can't do.

Know the personal,

yet keep to the impersonal:

accept the world as it is.

If you accept the world,

the Tao will be luminous inside you

and you will return to your primal self.

The world is formed from the void,

like utensils from a block of wood.

The Master knows the utensils,

yet keeps to the the block:

thus she can use all things.

Commentary

Old, partially rotted wood, Newbridge House, North County Dublin

Once again we find the Taoist balance of opposites most apparent in this short poem. Modern popular psychology and psychotherapy speak about men needing to integrate their feminine side and about women needing to integrate their masculine side.  The late great Professor Carl Gustav Jung would have certainly popularised that idea.  There is indeed much sound argument to support the fact that males and females contain a "seed" of the opposite sex to speak metaphorically.  In the human psyche the Mother archetype looms large, is almost all encompassing.  We speak of Mother Earth, the Motherland and call almost everything we hold dear by the feminine pronoun.  "She's a lovely little boat/car/bicycle or whatever..." I read somewhere that Jung made much of the fact that Nazi Germany spoke of the Fatherland and that this archetype was the main common psychological preoccupation of that fascist regime.  There is possible more than a grain of truth in that observation.

Our Taoist author advises the pilgrim on his/her journey to self-knowledge "to know the male" yet to "keep to the female."  Perhaps one could do worse than suggesting that here in this poem the male could represent the head (intellect/mind/the rational) whereas the female could represent the heart (feelings/emotions/intuition/the non-rational).  A blend of both is needed.  In other words, the call is to an integration of opposites yet again as a way to the Truth.

Another quality often associated with femininity is that of openness and receptivity - an openness like that of flowers blossoming into the rays of the sun.  In like manner, our poet philosopher is inviting us to be open and receptive to everything in the world, all objects, all animals. indeed to all beings, not just the human ones.

The Réalt na Mara (Star of the Sea) monument on East pier, Howth

Again, the poet uses the images of black and white.  He calls upon us to know the white (the masculinity and the possibility of growth) and yet to keep to the deep mystery of the black (femininity and fertility).  In such a way, we become a pattern for the world.  In being so whole and open - in other words, being so wholly open or so openly whole, we become patterns for the world and will attract all beings to us in our acceptance of them.  All of this means that we have to accept the world largely as it is, because, truly, we can change no one but ourselves.  It is in changing ourselves that we can change the world almost in spite of our best efforts.   In accepting the world, the Tao begins to live inside us.  Now, this is not a call to passivity or to the state of inertia where we do nothing.  It is a call to radically look inside ourselves, change what we can change and accept what we cannot.  From there on we are called to be compassionate to self, others and to the world.  In this way, we change ourselves and, in the course of doing that, change the world for the better.  Again, here we are right in the very heart of enigma and paradox.

By way of conclusion, I invite the reader to read over the above poem slowly and meditatively and to let any line, phrase or word suggest itself as a possible mantra for a five or ten minute slot of meditation.

Journal of a Soul 37

Ageing

I am on the left above, about 4 years of age.

A colleague at work says he does not mind growing old, quite simply because once you're ageing at least you are still alive.  I recall the great jazz musician, artist and art critic, George Melly (1926-2007) once stating that he took a certain satisfaction from visiting graveyards and looking at the headstones and breathing a sigh of relief that he had managed to outlive so many.  I remember another friend of mine, an old Christian Brother, who had been Provincial Leader of the Northern Province of Irish Christian Brothers for some time remarking that the older brothers used always opine that as one aged it was "either the legs or the head which go first."  Presumably, they were referring to either the loss of bodily motion in the first case and the onset of senility or dementia in the second.  I also remember his remarking that a certain Brother simply "had not grown old gracefully."  

I recall also my Aunt Noreen, who had spent nearly forty years nursing and is still hail and hearty (and playing golf) remarking to me that old age is "a cross we will all have to bear, and a heavy one at that." And indeed, growing old is not nearly so easy a task as one might think. Readers of this wee blog will know that my own mother passed away during the summer just gone at the grand old age of 96.  However, while she lived to such a good age, she had spent the last 11 years of her long life in a nursing home just gradually fading away into a world of very little recognition of anyone around her.  However, her doctors and nurses described her last years as being happily demented, thankfully, as many demented people can become quite angry and agitated.

A colleague of mine, referring to another female colleague, who spends a lot of money on appearing "young", says that this particular person will certainly not grow older or old in a graceful or easy manner.  It is widely believed that this person uses Botox.  However, be that as it may, what is at issue here is humankind's propensity to deny growing old...to our detriment indeed as denial is surely destructive of the inner being.  To deny any truth is to sow the seeds of disillusionment, depression, and even despair.

Acceptance 

Me an my brother.  I'm on the right, about 13 years.

Acceptance is hard task.  Oftentimes we seek to understand what life has thrown at us and what it is doing to us and we drive ourselves to near distraction in trying to come to grips intellectually with it.  However, oftentimes it is the ability to accept what life does to us that may help us through a period of disturbance and turmoil, or through a period of either physical or mental pain.  Now, I am not arguing for blind acceptance here.  To my mind, blind acceptance is useless, as it is a mere fatalism which will simply take no action and let everything happen without any striving to help oneself.  No, what I mean here is that acceptance which acknowledges whatever calamity has befallen us, accepts it as having happened, but which then positively and courageously embraces a future that does not give up on one's inner potential no matter how deeply one has suffered.  The type of acceptance I have in mind is a sort of realism coupled with a large dose of optimism and indeed hope.  I am certainly not arguing for the acceptance shown by Mary Tyrone in Eugene O'Neill's wonderful tragedy of a family bedevilled by addiction in its many forms - the opium addiction of Mary and the alcoholic addiction of her son Edmund, if my memory serves me correctly here.  Mary's acceptance is nothing short of fatalism and a passive giving into what life throws at us.  Her lines run: 

"James! We’ve loved each other! We always will! Let’s remember only that, and not try to understand what we cannot understand, or help things that cannot be helped - the things life has done to us we cannot excuse or explain.”  

There is much fatalism and absolutely no sort of realism coupled with the optimism and hope I have alluded to above.  For me, acceptance is like a diving board from which I have to have the courage to launch off into the unknown deep (future).  (See both these posts by two different bloggers on this play and on Mary's character and her addiction: Seven Pillars and Still Point).

Therapy Work

Me, in more recent times, enjoying my favourite beverage!

I do a little counselling at work as I have done several courses in that area.  I am sufficiently well-trained  to know when to recommend students to see professional counsellors or more specialist psychotherapists.  I also have developed good listening skills over years of practice both at training courses and in my line of work as a Resource Teacher.  One pupil came to me once in a state of complete nervous agitation and with a very troubled sleeping pattern.  I got him to list all the feelings he had over the particular incident with the particular person.  I got him to see how each of these feelings were linked with specific thoughts about both, and how such feelings were quite natural.  Then he wrote the following: "I hate myself!"  I explored this feeling with him and what it meant.  Then we went to the situation and the other person who was involved in the situation and I asked him was that feeling really based on a very acceptable thought.  He agreed that it was based on a very irrational thought: "I should be hated!"  "Why should you hate yourself based on what happened or continues to happen?  I see why you are angry, frustrated, annoyed etc etc and these are all reasonable feelings in the circumstances, but hating yourself, what basis has it at all in the situation you find yourself in?"  This type of clarification of his thoughts and feelings worked as the boy came back to me the following day and stated: "My situation has not changed one bit, but I feel a little better!"  In other words, I will work with him by listening to him when he comes to me for help.  I will attempt to help him accept certain facts that he can do nothing about. However, I will help him to see that he can choose how to respond to any situation he finds himself in.  I will empower him insofar as possible to see that sometimes (possibly not in every situation as that would, I think, be unrealistic and would set the client up for a fall) he can choose to decide how he feels about X, Y or Z.  One thing, I never do, nor would any counsellor worth his/her salt, is to offer any type of "ideal" or definite solution to the problems brought.  I merely listen and say that what we will try to do together is to understand as best as we can what is going on in the situation and to see if there are any ways we may possibly improve the situation.  I normally point out, because it is not always obvious to the client, that there are certain things about the presenting problem which one will not be able to change.  I normally ask a question like, "Is there anything you can change at the moment?"

Proactive Acceptance

Let me name here what I attempt to do with my students in the above situations as "proactive acceptance."  I started this post talking about ageing, and indeed all of the above is really about that even if it seemed that I went off the point somewhat in talking about acceptance in general. There are indeed many good things about growing old: growth in knowledge of all types, growth in wisdom; a certain peace of mind that you have worked hard to earn all that you have achieved to date, and a great pride wells up in one insofar as one has earned all that by the sweat of one's own brow.  There are times when I say to myself some such understandable nonsense like: "Jesus, I wish I could go back to 1980 and start teaching again with all that I know now!"  Of course, I know that this an utterly ridiculous wish, though thoroughly understandable.  Age is the price we pay for experience; the price we pay for wisdom; the price we pay for whatever success we have eked out of life over the duration of our so far allotted years.

And so there are many times I moan about the stiffness of my arthritic bones and joints in the morning as my two alarm clocks rattle me awake from dreamland.  Yes, there are times one wishes one could lie longer in bed/  Yes, there are times one feels like throwing in the towel.  I have mentioned in this and other blogs that I suffer from clinical depression and have been on a relatively low strength antidepressant for the past 15 years.  However, in all that time I think I may have missed one or two days at most from work.  What I have learned is to be good to myself, to rest as much as possible, never to take on tasks that drain me and which I hate, to say "no" at least as often as I say "yes", to exercise regularly, to eat well, to think positive thoughts, to meditate, to engage in activities that I enjoy, to read and to write and to do as much soul work as I possibly can.  All of this can be called my "proactive acceptance" of my mental health situation.  I never let any debilitating self-pity creep in as that is simply soul-destroying.

The Truth That Sets Us Free  

If one studies any of the great religious traditions of the world and strip away the more denominational attire one will arrive at a very positive psychology. (Admittedly, you will have to prune the likes of the Old Testament and the Koran with a strong secateurs, but the task is worth doing.)  Basically, they are all about being true to the self (or soul).  Let's call all the religious language mere metaphor and simile.  There can be no self-acceptance without facing the bare truth about the naked self, that is the self stripped of its many masks and the uniforms of its different societal roles.  As an old friend said to me once about making any important decision in life: "If you can live with your SELF after that decision, then it is a good one."  

As I mentioned the great play Long Day's Journey into Night above, let me finish with an ad rem longer quotation from it in conclusion: Once again it is Mary Tyrone who is speaking:

I don't blame you. How could you believe me – when I can't believe myself? I've become such a liar. I never lied about anything once upon a time. Now I have to lie, especially to myself. But how can you understand, when I don't myself. I've never understood anything about it, except that one day long ago I found I could no longer call my soul my own. (2.2.132)