All's Well

I was pondering some of the imponderables today, namely the mystical visions of Dame Julian of Norwich. In her Thirteenth Revelation, she says some of her most famous lines, in particular the one quoted as, "… all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well."

As usual, as in so many feel-good (feel-well?) sayings, some context has been elided. What she said was, "It behoved that there should be sin; but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well." That is, the world is a dark place, but it turns out well.

The good Dame, however, said many other things that make me (personally) feel better. One such comes in her Sixth Revelation, when she says, "The age of every man shall be acknowledged before him in Heaven, and every man shall be rewarded for his willing service and for his time." I would like to believe this is true, in my more self-pitying moments. Heh.

To get there however, one needs some knowledge of her Second Revelation, in which she says, "It is God’s will that we have three things in our seeking: — The first is that we seek earnestly and diligently, without sloth, and, as it may be through His grace, without unreasonable heaviness and vain sorrow. The second is, that we abide Him steadfastly for His love, without murmuring and striving against Him, to our life’s end: for it shall last but awhile. The third is that we trust in Him mightily of full assured faith."

But the mystery of belief is still there in the Thirteenth. I can't stop thinking about the subtleties of this line ascribed by the Dame to her Master: "I may make all thing well, I can make all thing well, I will make all thing well, and I shall make all thing well; and thou shalt see thyself that all manner of thing shall be well."

Maybe I'll post on this again.

Misstatement

Can you imagine if my mission statement was this?

"To be a very large tree under which all kinds of nuts could be developed in all kinds of ways."

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That's just the amusing part of my day though. What came to mind as the day progressed was the second chapter of the book of the prophet Daniel. Slowly, I saw it in my mind's eye, that exposition of the dream of King Nebuchadnezzar. I am not ashamed to say that I was terrified. The clues are all there: a king of kings who is a head of gold, and the subsequent unfolding history of the world.

You, O king, are a king of kings: for the God of Heaven has given you a kingdom, power, and strength, and glory.

And wherever the children of men dwell, the beasts of the field and the fowls of the heaven has He given into your hand, and has made you ruler over them all. You are this head of gold.

And after you shall arise another kingdom inferior to you, and another third kingdom of brass, which shall bear rule over all the earth.

And the fourth kingdom shall be strong as iron: for as much as iron breaks in pieces and subdus all things: and as iron that breaks all these, so shall it break in pieces and bruise.

And whereas you saw the feet and toes, part of potters' clay, and part of iron, the kingdom shall be divided; but there shall be in it of the strength of the iron, for as much as you saw the iron mixed with miry clay.

And as the toes of the feet were part of iron, and part of clay, so the kingdom shall be partly strong, and partly broken.

And whereas you saw iron mixed with miry clay, they shall mingle themselves with the seed of men: but they shall not cleave one to another, even as iron is not mixed with clay.

And in the days of these kings shall the God of Heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed: and the kingdom shall not be left to other people, but it shall break in pieces and consume all these kingdoms, and it shall stand for ever.

For as much as you saw that the stone was cut out of the mountain without hands, and that it broke in pieces the iron, the brass, the clay, the silver, and the gold; the great God has made known to the king what shall come to pass hereafter: and the dream is certain, and the interpretation thereof is sure.

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I have been told that I have a small part of the gift of prophecy. Whatever it is that makes people say that, I often wish it would stop. And I am sure that all these things will go away, and that only love will abide.

Direction

Today I was meditating on anomie, that quality of meaninglessness and lack of order or priority (lawlessness?) that characterises a life not worth living. It came to me that my blog, lacking a clear direction, might well have the digiliterate equivalent of anomie.

Normally, a life heavily afflicted by anomie is terminated by suicide or some other form of autolysis. In like fashion, this blog seemed slated for the Great WordPress in the Sky. But then, my hand poised to strike the mortal blow, I paused.

For there is indeed a direction to this blog. It skirts some issues, effectively creating an apron or cordon sanitaire around matters which cannot be dealt with head-on or explicitly. It meanders past some interesting oxbow lakes. It takes a remote and elliptical view of some other events. And it is home to some execrable nonsense at times. But yes, there is a direction.

This blog is convinced that humans can read truth amidst phantasm, can understand the elliptical and arcane, and apprehend the structures of the world which are hidden for political and venal reasons. And its direction is one which reveals things to those who can see.

Quizzical: Extremely Small

Yes, I succumbed to the lure of the quizzical. it never ceases to amaze me how silly I feel doing these things, while falling headlong into some orgy of self-revelation triggered by somebody else. I laugh at myself. And I ponder what has been revealed with some measure of odd... anxiety? No... it can't be that, surely.

What kind of subatomic particle are you?

Tachyon — Extremely rare and extremely frenetic, many people believe that you aren't real. You really are, though — and you move through tasks at incredible speed.

Take this quiz?

The Greater Trumps: (28) Judgement

The Trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, says that venerable Book of Books. Indeed, this image shows a sea of graves, a sea of waves, a crystal sea - and the dead rising. Above all things and to one side stands an angel, who looks suspiciously like the Fool of the first trump. For this is the Judgement, and at the vanishing point of perspective, in the hallowed and infinite distance, is a great throne, hidden in pure light.

It is not only the dead who rise, but the images of the past, of all hidden things being called forth to face the Judgement. This is no mere transformation from one state to another, but irrevocable change without continuity - an apocalypse, an apostrophe, perhaps a catastrophe or eucatastrophe. Not everyone wishes for Judgement; some have things to hide. But this image signals that the time for hiding is over, that all things are made plain, and old things are raised so that they will no longer have power. There is no more burden of the past, no more burden of the future, for all things are made present and presented.

Once you have negotiated the Judgement, you have made irrevocable Decision the focus of your action. Where Will and Power are one, so let it be, ask now no more.

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When I was young I most enjoyed the Apocalypse of St John, among all the books of the New Covenant. Now that I am older, I realise why that must have been so: it is a book written in symbolic language, easy to understand and accept when you are a child. But the truths it conceals or half-reveals are painful to adults and those who have lived enough to feel guilt, remorse, and antipathy towards things past.

Georg Handel's oratorio, The Messiah, is a truly great work. I remember listening to it live once; my father had decided to play matchmaker and asked me to invite a young lady. I remember she was very pleasant company, but that was our first and last date. Decision had struck again, and it was irrevocable. But one of the great arias of the last part of The Messiah remained with me. The Trumpet Shall Sound will always remain a favourite of mine for its clear and clarion call, evoking the destiny of those who believe.

The trumpet shall sound,
and the dead shall be raised incorruptible,
and we shall be changed.
For this corruptible must put on incorruption,
and this mortal must put on immortality.

Whereas the image called Death signifies Change, and the image called Temperance signifies Alchemy, both are merely processes. The image of Judgement sounds the call to a pivotal moment, the dividing line between two states, beyond which return is impossible and no longer desired. Terminus est, the old language says.

The Greater Trumps: (23) The Lightning-Struck Tower

There is a great Tower standing on a cliff, a Tower on a high place where it looks down upon the plains and waters of the earth. The Tower is built by the hands of men, and years of falsity and human error have seeped into its stones. Some say this Tower is Babel, where God first confounded the languages - some say this edifice is the first pyramid, broken at the top and never completed because higher powers rose against it.

In the image, a mighty bolt of lightning strikes the Tower and casts its inhabitants out as it crumbles and falls. It is a sign that nothing made imperfectly by the faith and work of man will survive the wrath of God's truth and the dictates of Heaven - no matter how grand it seems. In the most ancient readings, it is the work of men who have forgotten the higher truths and raised themselves above others, proclaiming, "Let us build a tower to heaven." These are men who think they can be as God, and the sundering of their Tower denies that presumption.

At the same time, as the thunderbolt lays bare the insides of the Tower and casts its people out, it brings sudden and earth-shaking understanding to those below. What is Disaster in one way is also Revelation in another. It all depends on which side you are on, and what understanding you gain. Regardless, expect upheaval and a different order of things.

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I have a subtle appreciation for this image. I can feel the pain of having your foundations shattered, but it is like wound debridement or the re-setting of a broken bone that has healed badly. It will hurt a lot, but with a chance to begin again, and the enlightenment of having finally cleared out the rubbish, things will be better henceforth.

Here is the fourth stanza of a rare poem, translated from the Dutch by Cliff Crego. It is The Wanderer by Martinus Nijhoff (1894-1953).

I am a spectator looking out from a high tower,
A space divides me from the rest of the world,
That I see as small and as very far away
And that I cannot touch and cannot hear.

It reminds one of these lines from Chesterton's Lepanto:

The hidden room in man's house where God sits all the year,
The secret window whence the world looks small and very dear.

The breaking of the Tower brings both Disaster and Revelation, and yet this is where all things become new, and we can start afresh.