"And yet the compensations of calamity. . ." [by DL]

When I am in distress for real or unfathomable causes, when the chaos outside threatens to overwhelm the precarious order within, when anxities surround me on all sides like an invading army closing in on the remnants of a defeated foe, when I grieve for my parents, my boyhood, and the friends I have lost, the irreplaceable ones, whether they go all at once or slip away into infirmity or madness, I console myself with the wisdom of Emerson in the last paragraph of "Compensation." -- DL

<<< And yet the compensatrions of calamity are made apparent to the understanding also, after long intervals of time. A fever, a mutilation, a cruel disappointment, a loss of wealth, a loss of friends, seems at the moment unpaid loss, and unpayable. But the sure years reveal the deep remedial force that underlies all facts. The death of a dear friend, wife, brother, lover, which seemed nothing but privation, somewhat later assumes the aspect of a guide or genius; for it commonly operates revolutions in our way of life, terminates an epoch of infancy or of youth which was waiting to be closed, breaks up a wonted occupation, or a household, or style of living, and allows the formation of new ones more friendly to the growth of character. It permits or constrains the formation of new acquaintances and the reception of new influences that prove of the first importance to the next years; and the man or woman who would have remained a sunny garden-flower, with no room for its roots and too much sunshine for its head, by the falling of the walls and the neglect of the gardener is made the banian of the forest, yielding shade and fruit to wide neighborhoods of men.
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-- Ralph Waldo Emerson. "Compensation"

Comments

[jenny factor]

This is quite an extraordinary post, David. I am reading it from my sister-in-law's house in santa cruz, california. At our hotel, the tvs in th lobby all point toward the east where Irene is bearing down. Here we are in the sunny yard, asembling rented tables. There are hummingbids, and the plants are tropical. Two wet wooly dogs, and breaks assembling for tears. Her sister's husband, a woodsman, a journeyman electrician, motorcycle rider, ukelele player, just 63, has died. Tomorrow is the musical service. Marilyn and I are spending time here with her old childhood friends, and last night she laughed as I haven't heard her in 9 years. I feel as if I am traveling into this cave of someone else's sadness with a quirky resilient person with whom I fell in love with over a decade ago, but haven't seen for some time. Around the house, the phone rings with today's well-wishers who may be tomorrow's new rituals.

To you, and Emerson, and Stacey--wherever you are now huddled, my love.

[Terence Winch]

Dear D:
I find that level of emotional transcendence---or transcendent detachment---in the face of life's losses to be extremely hard to achieve, if not impossible, at least for me. But nonetheless it is good to be reminded that the most difficult experiences can have unexpected and beneficial side effects. Meanwhile, the wild, orgasmic reporting on this hurricane, often almost content-free, really jacks up my anxieties, which doesn't take much, in truth. I can't believe we still have electricity down here. We have the worst power company in the country (Pepco).

That photo of Emerson kind of reminds me of you, weirdly.

Loved the Washington Sq Park video.

Stop your rambling, stop your gambling, stop staying out late at night!
yrs,
T

[The Best American Poetry]

Thank you for these comments. Jenny, I am so glad to be in your thoughts. We've weathered the worst of the storm in good shape. Terry, my anxieties are in an uproar due to the relentless hyping of the hurricane -- and other things as well, such as my annual dismay as summer's warmth and liberty fade into the obligations of autumn. I hope the hurricane left you undisturbed and with electricity to spare. DL