Tuesday, October 12, 2021
4:50 a.m. A good day’s work yesterday. Shall we continue with Orphic Sayings?
[LXI. TEMPTATION. The man of sublime gifts has his temptation amidst the solitudes to which he is driven by his age as proof of his integrity. Yet nobly he withstands this trial, conquering both Satan and the world by overcoming himself. He bows not down before the idols of time, but is constant to the divine ideal that haunts his heart,—a spirit of serene and perpetual peace.]
This one appears simple, even transparent, until you look at it carefully and ask, what did Alcott mean by the terms he used? What is the temptation? What are the idols of time? In what way does he need to overcome himself? Simplicity of language does not necessarily amount to transparency of meaning.
No, I can see that- though at least the simplicity of language is a relief from the overblown, semi-conscious pompous language that sometimes he engages in. I know why; still, it is nice not to have to deal with it.
You will note, he specifically singles out the “man of sublime gifts” as the one who is driven into temptation by the age he lives in. So what is he talking about?
I thought that’s what I hired you to tell us.
We smile. But it will mean more to you if you work it out – as usual. Did you remember to set your slide-switches?
Interesting. I thought of them, I can’t say I deliberately set them. Very well.
And?
Well, somehow he seems to be saying that his very solitude poses the temptation to succumb to the idols of the age. I can’t quite see how that follows.
Bear in mind, you need not (to profit by these readings) deduce with certainty what Alcott meant; it is for you to deduce what the words he produced mean to you, a century and three-quarters later. Sparks, not signposts.
Meaning, they will speak to us, regardless of what intent produced them?
It is always so with scripture, and any honest word is scripture for those who respond to it.
That is both liberation from didacticism and responsibility before potential.
We smile again. If Alcott said something similar, you would complain of his obscurity. You see what happens sometimes when one’s words are an echo of one’s internal dialog, rather than a conscious effort to be a bridge.
Interesting. But you know what I meant. By freeing us from being slaves to literalism, this also imposes a heavy responsibility to be careful in our educations and reactions.
And that was Alcott’s problem, you see. In speech he was prolix but his meaning became clear. In writing he was concise but often impenetrable. It wasn’t merely his use of archaisms and the inflated quality of language that emanated partly from the unconscious.
I see it now. I should apologize to his shade, I suppose, and I do. Emerson esteemed him, and so did Thoreau. That should have been enough for me.
So now feel deeply, and translate saying number 61.
I think I see this: It isn’t solitude that is the temptation, but his awareness that his gifts could be used to achieve external rather than internal goals, goals much less suited to his true goal. And I got this by finally remembering that you, or Nathanial, taught us, in looking at the Gospel of Thomas, to look at the following saying, as well as the previous, to follow the scent.
Good. And in this awareness he was accompanied by Thoreau (who was thought by Emerson to hide his light under a bushed) and by Emerson (who made a huge stir in the world by remaining himself). So now we may proceed.
[LXII. LIGHT. Oblivion of the world is knowledge of heaven,—of sin, holiness,—of time, eternity. The world, sin, time, are interpolations into the authentic scripture of the soul, denoting her lapse from God, innocence, heaven. Of these the child and God are alike ignorant. They have not fallen from their estate of divine intuition, into the dark domain of sense, wherein all is but shadowy reminiscence of substance and light, of innocence and clarity. Their life is above memory and hope,—a life, not of knowledge, but of sight.]
This saying must have appeared to most of his contemporaries like daylight madness, as the English say. Yet it follows smoothly if you once realize that “the world” and everything about it is made of mind-stuff.
Ye, I see that clearly enough. Interesting that this morning I am finding it hard to tell whether to ascribe a given thought or expression (“daylight madness”) to you or to me. It is as if the categories of “me” and “you” are blurring.
Should this be a surprise?
Perhaps not. Anything more to say about 62?
No, if the reader understands the basis for it, no more is needed; if not, no more is likely to help. If the world of sense were real – instead of only somewhat real – then evil and sin, etc., would equally be real, and would pose an entirely different kind of problem for the individual. Sin would be more than “missing the mark”; it would be closer to treason in a divided reality.
[LXIII. PROBITY. The upright man holds fast his integrity amidst all reverses. Exiled by his principles from the world, a solitary amidst his age, he stands aloof from the busy haunts and low toils of his race. Amidst the general sterility he ripens for God. He is above the gauds and baits of sense. His taskmaster is in heaven; his field eternity; his wages peace. Away from him are all golden trophies, fames, honors, soft flatteries, comforts, homes, and couches in time. He lives in the smile of God; nor fears the frowns, nor courts the favor of men. With him the mint of immortal honor is not in the thronged market, but in the courts of the heart, whose awards bear not devices of applauding hosts, but of reviling soldiery,—of stakes and gibbets,—and are the guerdon not of the trial imposed, but of the valor that overcame it.]
These would be empty words, were Alcott’s life not a demonstration of them. With all his foibles, he was a man of absolute probity, again like his friends.
[LXIV. SOPHISTRY. Always are the ages infested with dealers in stolen treasures. Church, state, school, traffic largely in such contraband wares, and would send genius and probity, as of old, Socrates and Jesus, into the markets and thoroughfares, to higgle with publicans and sophists for their own properties. But yet the wit and will of these same vagrants is not only coin, but stock in trade for all the business of the world. Mammon counterfeits the scripture of God, and his partners, the church, the state, the school, share the profit of his peculations on mankind.]
This one is well worth pondering now and later, for it is great encouragement, if rightly considered.
Interesting take on it, but I see your point. The world is always using divine materials for mundane purposes, and, much worse, using for profit things intended to be used in a very different way. And it makes no difference, because even in perverting the gifts, it preserves and forwards them. Or is this too Pollyanna-ish a take on it?
The world is continually renewed by a new crop of innocent babies, and its worse corruptions are not immune to silent casual overthrow when the times bring forth the crop to whom they are no temptation. Of course, the temptations recur in new forms, but that is merely saying that the game is never over.
At any given time, the genuine must compete with the sham, and true competition implies that sometimes the real wins and sometimes it loses, but a different way to see the same thing is that the real appeals to some and the unreal, the imitation, appeals to others. Nothing wrong with this, ultimately, because everything has its uses in the world. (This doesn’t mean that Alcott necessarily saw things in so philosophical a light, but it is nonetheless true.)
[LXV. BREAD. Fools and blind! not bread, but the lack of it is God’s high argument. Wouldst enter into life? Beg bread then. In the kingdom of God are love and bread consociated, but in the realm of mammon, bread sojourns with lies, and truth is a starveling. Yet praised be God, he has bread in his exile which mammon knows not of.]
I don’t find this one too coherent. It seems to mix metaphors.
It is a thought that is simple enough, but unfamiliar. In the 3D world, one finds that it is not the true things that “pay,” so to speak, but the false. Look back to the previous saying. And this can be a sore trial, as Alcott’s life also demonstrated; these were not easy words, lightly spoken. (And the life ahead of him held many more trials, as difficult and more.) But, as he rightly says, “he has bread in his exile which mammon knows not of.”
And there is your hour. We can continue another time.
Our thanks for all this, as always.