Lessons of shadows and light

February is for looking back to go forward. In Punxsutawney (PA) Phil the ground hog saw his shadow. Hence we learn from tradition that we are faced with 6 more weeks of winter. Here on JJL, we are looking back into books we have read to share what we have learned from reading. There has been a pattern of children’s books this first week. Rosa gave us the list of 100 books that children should read. Joanna took us into Alice and Wonderland. Dean talked of children and their books.

In my comment on Dean’s post I wrote:

Dean, one small regret about my daughters growing up into the young ladies that they have become, is that I don't have ready access to the books of the tweens. Yes, I do have access. I can go into a store or shop online with the best of them. But to read and discuss the same book amongst the family was a treasured time during their school days.
Oh, we still have good discussions and frequently about books these days now that they are in college. But they are not kids books!

One author whose books circulated amongst our household as Allison and Carolyn were growing up was Madeleine L’Engle. I thought we had read everything she wrote. I know one of Allison’s book shelves was full of her books. I thought that until I read amongst many of the tributes to her after she passed away September 6, 2007 of a series of books that she wrote called “The Crosswicks Journals”. I picked up the first one “A Circle of Quiet” and read it during November. Many passages in the book got marked. These were good quotes that would come in handy some day. Had she chosen, had the internet and blogging been current, chapters of the journal could easily have been her posts. They were meant to be that conversational and informal.

For example;

Far too many people misunderstand what putting away childish things means, and think that forgetting what it is like to think and feel and touch and smell and taste and see and hear like a three-year-old or a thirteen-year-old or a twenty-three-year-old means being grownup. When I'm with these people I, like the kids, feel that if this is what is meant by being a grownup, then I don't ever want to be one.

I wholeheartedly agree. Peter Pan is my hero. I don’t want to grow up.

So my hope, each day as I grow older, is that this will never be simply chronological aging --- which is a nuisance and frequently a bore --- the old 'bod' at over a half a century has had hard use; it won't take what it did a few years ago --- but that I will also grow into maturity, where the experience can be acquired only through chronology will teach me how to be more aware, open, unafraid to be vulnerable, involved, committed, to accept disagreement without feeling threatened (repeat and underline this one), to understand that I cannot take myself seriously until I stop taking myself seriously --- to be, in fact, a true adult.

To be.

Reading what she wrote when she was in her fifties, when I too am of that age now (which maybe why Peter Pan is so important!) struck me doubly so.

Sunday evening was clear and luminous so we went to the star-watching rock and welcomed the arrival of each star with a blast of a trumpet. We lay there, in an odd assortment of coats; I had on an embroidered coat a friend had bought in Dubrovnik; the two girls had on ancient fur coats; and we were covered with blankets. We needed them, even though the rock itself still held the warmth of the sun, our own star, and radiated a gentle heat to us as we lay there and watched the sky, blowing the trumpets and sharing a can of insect repellent and listening to the crickets and the katydids and trying to identify the other night singers, and then outsinging them with all the nursery rhymes and songs and hymns we could think of which had stars and alleluias in them.

And I was totally back in joy. I didn't realize I had been out of it, caught in small problems and disappointments and frustrations, until it came surging back. It was as radiant as the rock, and I lay there listening to the girls trumpeting, and occasionally being handed one of the trumpets so that I could make a loud blast myself, and I half expecting to hear a herd of elephants come thundering across the far pastures in answer to our call.

And joy is always a promise.

Joy is always a promise and best when it is fulfilled. I love the simplicity of her text. She creates the scene. She creates the mood. She creates the warmth of the rock and the chill of the night. Did you think you were also on the rock and could take a turn on the trumpet?

I summarized my book review for “A Circle of Quiet” as a sherku, focusing the message in just 19 syllables:

circled in quiet, wrinkled
in time, Chesswicks trumpets
ontology of self

This also slips in some of the Eastern thought that David brought this week.

While there has been a pattern of children’s books this first week, I look forward to see what will happen during the remainder of this month. We don't need to look for shadows any more. We need to look for light.

Are there particular types of books that you like to learn from?

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Steve Sherlock writes his 2 cent views on life from Franklin, MA. He explores the "good experience", "life long learning" and life in general, after handling the "before you blog" list his wonderful wife Dolores  provides him. Together they are enjoying the empty nest while their daughters are away at college. He has also resumed running and he podcasts tips and coaching advice at Passionate Runner. His sherku and other poetry can be found at quiet poet.

Comments

[dave]

Steve -as long as we can stick together here and continue to tell stories like this, we'll all have a better chance of not growing up - together :-)

I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your contribution!

[Steve Sherlock]

Dave, thank you. Participation here is a rewarding prospect!