It’s Latin for “unconquered” or “undefeated.” But its relevance to this post touches on perseverance, faith, courage, patience and an existential strength boldly expressed in a timeless–as well as timely–poem.
The renowned British poet, William Ernest Henley [1849-1903] survived TB, an experience that influenced his creation of “impressionistic poems.” His fight against tuberculosis of the bone cost him his left leg; were it not for the inventive talents of his surgeon, Joseph Lister, MD, the TB would’ve have taken his right leg as well. His ordeal kept him confined to an infirmary in Edinburgh for 20 months. Eighteen of his poems came from his recovery time at the infirmary.
This poem has been the inspiration for many dreaming of the nearly impossible, the unreachable. The intensity of its focus toward attaining some goal can be similar to managing something you prefer to avoid. In either case it’s very personal. The demons that keep you from accomplishing a goal are the same that make it hard for you to jettison something you want removed from your memory, to stop a habit, to avoid temptations that can put you in dire straits, physically and spiritually. Yet at one time or another, those who rigorously work and prepare for such mind-boggling pursuits or drastic disengagements are the likes of someone you know, perhaps even yourself. HopefulIy I can be counted as one of those who understands, even assimilate an experience, that could be associated with Invictus.
In spite of Mr. Henley’s 20-month struggle against the disease, he composed his most famous poem, Invictus, along with several books of poetry. His life was a poem of resilience and fortitude, of being a husband and father, of being a peer to other poets and writers, on also becoming a writer, lecturer as well as an overlord to a disability that could not separate him from his work or Life.
The highly-regarded critic, Leslie Stephen had some of Henley’s “infirmary” poems published in Cornhill Magazine, a monthly Victorian publication and literary journal. It was a respected monthly magazine with a large circulation. Its contributors included George Eliot, Henry James, William Thackeray, John Ruskin among other celebrated writers.
When Mr. Stephen travelled to Edinburgh to deliver a lecture, he made it a point to visit Mr. Henley. Another young writer, Robert Louis Stevenson, accompanied Mr. Stephen during that visit and it started a ten-year friendship between Mr. Henley and the young novelist from Scotland. After Stevenson’s publishing of Treasure Island, it was revealed that the inimitable pirate with the wooden leg, Long John Silver, was inspired by his friend, William Ernest Henley.
I’m certain there are number of individuals who have rightfully earned the right to call Invictus their own anthem, a Purple Heart that nurtures their spirit and to persevere.
“I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.”
On July 4, 1776, 13 colonies represented the start of a new, independent nation. What began then continues to evolve, even shape-shift into realities banal as well as incomprehensibly good, and in ways, unexpected. So, some 250 years later, what comes to mind not only about our Declaration of Independence, but of ideals, perceptions and attitudes which–in some form or another–shaped your own thinking?
I think of 1776 as the “Big Bang” of powerful, humanitarian thinking and risk-taking, of finding strength with purpose and reason, of the surfeit of loss and regret and the weight of forbearance. What comes to mind is this spectrum of the human experience, that for each individual in these United States, carries levels of clarity and disillusion, of relief and anxiety.
In January 1776, the British born & an American Founding Father Thomas Paine published his pamphlet, Common Sense. Take a chance and read it, certainly over a cup of tea [or ice coffee, water and so on]. His words were clear and to the point. It had clarity that many could understand and feel. This timeless publication was the comet which ignited the spirit of a nation yet to be. Study Paine’s writing, and you can feel his sense of what a genuine human being should be. Many of our rights, freedoms and choices begin with you. Having the freedom to choose is our most inalienable right. It is the single most important key that unlocks paths to our rights, the pursuits that make us happy, and the freedom to make choices of our own accord.
Some 67 years later, Charles Dickens wrote arguably one of the most stirring novels about the human experience and the choices we make. A Christmas Carol is as much a story about Christmas as it is a story of becoming a thoughtful person. One can not be solely attuned to the finer things in life. I’m sure you remember Jacob Marlowe’s moment of clarity and purpose, an epiphany that’s arrived too late for Mr. Marlowe:
“But you were always a good man of business, Jacob,” faltered Scrooge, who now began to apply this to himself.
“Business!” cried the Ghost, wringing its hands again. “Mankind was my business. The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance, and benevolence, were, all, my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business!” —A Christmas Carol
So then, who in 2026 will be the catalyst that creates something extraordinary for the benefit of all living things on this earth?
Here’s an idiom that is sorely wanting in our modern day living and thinking: horse sense. Although there is some good news circulating here and there, it’s unfortunate that what seems to catch our attention are those things that show us at our lowest scale of being human.
In the 1830s, a horse reigned supreme. If you had any intention of getting from point A to point B in a relatively reasonable amount of time, a horse was part of the equation. Horses were a significant part of daily life back in those days. I believe they still are. Horses were as ubiquitous then as a car is today. The key–and important difference–is that a horse is a sentient creation, one that can feel, sense, experience and remember what goes on outside his/her physical body. Credit horse sense for those of us who’ve maintained a practical yet functional aspect of thinking reasonably.
A modern car is a marvel of technology, and that technology can deliver amazing conveniences in safety, comfort, even respond to inputs from the user [braking, turning, accelerating, navigation, e.g.] and of course, much more.
But unlike a horse, a car lacks the ability to feel and experience pain, joy, danger, fear, among other qualities of perception. Thus, being part of the animal kingdom, we are first and foremost, sentient beings. However, being human also means we are sapient creatures. We can reason, deduce and think about abstract concepts. This is what makes us unique among all living things on this earth. We possess self-awareness, a conscious ability to think and reason to engage cognitive processes which in turn can further increase our understanding of things tangible and intangible.
We’re lacking a good amount of horse sense today. By any other name, it appears some have lost the basics of good judgement, fair decision-making, logical reasoning, even empathetic gestures and intentions.
“Well, it’s just pure, doggone horse sense______” a) to wear a helmet when riding [horses, motorcycles, bikes, etc.] b) to let go of that fire cracker once it’s @#!!# lit! c) to wear that seatbelt regardless. d) not to drive across that “shallow water” after a big rainstorm. e) [and finally…] _____________________ [please, you think of something to add].
Here’s a comment attributed to French Enlightenment writer, philosopher and satirist, Voltaire [nom de plume; his legal name was Francois-Marie Arouet]. To wit: Common sense is not so common. I’ll bet he enjoyed horses.
It’s a river in the Philippines, one of two used in the filming of Apocalypse Now. The other was the Madapio River which is also nearby. About 47 years ago, that iconic film was first released to a global audience at the Cannes Film Festival, then later that fall, to the United States. To a few English majors, deja vu tickled our thinking to another time, whether recent or ages back. The film’s storyline is based on Joseph Conrad’s novella, Heart of Darkness.
This post is a small vignette of a single day traveling down this river. It was one of many days spent visiting or doing something with family. Three first cousins accompanied us on this venture; they were generous with their time and hospitality, and my language lifesavers when my Tagalog crashed and burned a few times.
Across several days, we met with those on my mother’s side as well as those from my father’s side. For my wife and 2 daughters, it was a journey ripe for discovery, for identifying–even relating to–customs and traditions that can now be associated with a relative, a special occasion, a particular saying or place, and even a recipe. To see their reactions, to hear their questions, comments and sense of wonder also brought to me a newness of the Philippines that refreshed, as well as anchored my own understanding of what it means to be a son of these islands. The 2-weeks spent there were the first for my family.
Bangka
These boats are not quite kayak or canoe. Granted, they’re distant cousins of what we recognize as either one or the other. Each bangka carries 2 passengers and 2 crew, one in the bow [front] and the other in the stern [back]. The boats are long, but stable.
River Life
As we passed homes and businesses along the waterway, I wondered about the strength of these elevated dwellings. The tropics are susceptible to typhoons and long days of rain in a season that spans June into November. A typhoon is referred to as the hurricane of the Tropics . Noticing the homes and businesses crafted from bamboo along the water’s edge made me wonder just how often folks had to repair and/or relocate these dwellings. They do either with their resourcefulness, patience and persistence. Help from neighbors and family are de rigueuer in the most challenging times of Life. That’s a universal truth for most part of the world.
The 2 guides in each bangka really know the route down this river. Their actions appear rote, yet calculated. There are several sections littered with rocks of all sizes and shapes; and in those instances, I’m specifically citing areas where the water is ankle to knee deep. Negotiating these tight places proved strenuous to the guides, but like sherpas in the Himalayas, they went about their tasks quietly and purposefully. However, now and then, you’d catch short, bursts of dialogue punctuated with a short, but hearty laugh. I’d like to think that they like this life stage. Life for them and their friends and families are pretty basic compared to the modern world. Wherever we were during our vacation, there’s this sense of work and gratitude which carry Filipinos from one day to the next. And that’s how it should be. A friend once told me that you really can’t miss something you’ve never owned. The Mobius strip in that saying implies that the feeling of missing something is quite different from wanting something that others own.
Water Veils & Vertical Walls
The Pagsanhan River courses through some of the tallest shores [walls, actually] I’ve ever seen. In these canyons a quiet, palpable strength, an anthropomorphic quality that had equal parts solidarity and that of a stoic individual, firmly planted in place. Falling water we passed often greeted us with a curtain of mist and the omnipresent sound of moving water.
The veils flowing [more like falling] along these walls into the river start at a height of 100 to 115 feet [30.5 to 35 meters] measured from the top of the water, to solid ground above. The tallest veils/falls run straight up to 300 feet [91 meters]. Scaling these walls could be deadly; the amount of wet stone, damp moss and greenery would put a quick stop to such a Quixotic attempt.
Without any prompts from anyone, Pagsanhan Falls and the celebrated Devil’s Cave came into view. Before you even see the falls, you can hear it. As it comes into view, a mist-filled breeze greets you, the falls resigned to cover everyone on the raft with water. The photo above shows the waiting area as another raft is at the cave. Our turn arrived and one of the boatmen pulled us straight into the rapidly falling water and finally into the cave.
Overall, the water is shallow often flowing smoothly, deep and quiet between shallow holes. Getting entirely wet in the cold water revived us from the heat. We were drenched minutes even before entering the Cave. We waded in the water feeling refreshed, just enough to thwart the heat we endured in that first hour skating down the river.
The waves lapping the stone “beach” a short distance into the cave provided a calming rhythm akin to the ocean touching the sands on a beach. As the sound of the crashing water just outside faded, each step into this dark, cave rendered an air of complacency. There was nothing to dwell on but only the moment we were all in. Happy, surprised, content with the here and now. Nothing else kept us from enjoying the unrehearsed, unanticipated joy that held us together. The boatmen even managed a smile and a few words, the latter acknowledged our silliness.
We left the cave, happy, quiet, tired and wet. The trip back to the loading dock was uneventful just as the first half of this trip. Whatever my camera managed to capture, I’m certain that each of us have already assembled a series of memories orchestrated and tied together with sounds, feelings and fragrances of the Pagsahan River. Perhaps the most invaluable memory of this and other things we experienced on this entire trip was that as a family, we were all in.
Frisson…..it’s French for a chilling sensation, a shiver. It’s typically a pleasurable response to a stimuli that “moves you.” At times we refer to this reactive sensation as something that, “gives me the shivers.” You get goosebumps, you feel the small hairs on your arm or the back of your neck stand up, your breathing and pulse become quicker.
Frisson is that short-lived somewhat intense satisfaction often brought on by music, art, an event, a person, a book, essentially whatever it is you witness that generates a momentary elevation of pleasure. The brain and body experience something akin to adrenaline and dopamine reaching peak levels.
The following images are some of the “frissons” I felt while in France. I enjoyed the “shivers” and enjoy bringing them to life here. Hope you find something to like…..
“The sending of a letter constitutes a magic grasp upon the future.” Iris Murdock, CBE, DBE. Irish-born, British philosopher & novelist
“In our letters, we are recollecting and conversing with the soul, through both our friends and ourselves.” Thomas Moore Irish writer, social philosopher and in his lifetime, regarded as “Ireland’s national bard.”
“There is something special about holding a hand written letter. It carries the essence of the writer.” Jane Austen
I would suspect that the majority of readers who come across my blog do not write with a fountain pen. Not unusual and it’s okay. That’s just a factoid of our technology epoch. It’s been written that many are far more familiar with a screen, a QWERTY keyboard and now the exponential growth of AI. An observation, as well as a dirge, for the sentience and engagement of a communication method that some find impractical and inefficient.
Yet on any given day or evening, I’m not far from paper and a pen filled with royal blue ink, ink drawn from a bottle and into a pen barrel via its nib and the piston residing in that barrel. Archaic, perhaps, yet some believe such things are unnecessary for our current state of living. What about the state of your life and the qualities that define its value…?
A frequent criticism is that using such a writing instrument is too slow, to use and get used to. Put another way, this is a communication method that requires your patience, your willingness to engage both mind and heart over a period of time. Handwriting is the articulation of thinking, learning, feeling and so much more.
I would be remiss if I did not include some of the toils in finding the right paper and ink that adds to the fascination of such a timeless way of expression. These 2 items are just part of the discovery process, one which needs your attention as you gain familiarity and traction to fountain pens, inks, types of paper and of course, writing. With a nod to digital technology, researching pens, paper and ink is far easier now than it has ever been.
Writing with ink and paper is slow, certainly slower compared to the speed in which we talk; and even that is a lot slower than our brains when we’re processing just about anything we can think of. Writing slowly does not correlate to slow thinking. Such writing encompasses thoughtful pauses, an examination of those and adjacent thoughts, whether abstract or tangible, even working to make what was just put to paper more lucid for anyone–including myself–to grasp.
If you’ve come this far, you might have wondered about the “Permanence in Paper” notion in the essay’s title. Paper and the writing it holds can survive over a long period of time. But I wonder about some of those pages bound or bundled together for centuries. Egyptian manuscripts written on Papyrus are some of the oldest known individual texts in existence. Their scrolls go back c. 2500 BCE, whereas paper in its earliest form appeared in China c. 105 CE. [Note: BCE stands for Before Common Era and CE represents Common Era. These are the secular versions of Before Christ (BC) and After Christ/Anno Domini].
I think of times in history when handwritten correspondence was the perhaps the most confident way to connect. I visualize piles of envelopes each with a letter, a notice or alert, even a photograph among other possibilities. There were many, many things in those letters, rote and topical. There was the weight of loss and longing, of anticipation and impatience, of a happiness that seems forever in arriving, or the gravity of profound grief relentless in its hold of sadness, regret and helplessness.
Books have been written describing letters that have been exchanged. John and Abigail Smith Adams regularly wrote to each other. They were well ahead of their time as they were reciprocal to each other for support and encouragement and more. Think of this: more than once, Mr. Adams stated in his letters that Ms. Adams was his “dearest partner” and a “stateswoman” worthy to be among the most astute of advisors and confidantes.
Queen Elizabeth 1 wrote upwards of “3,000 plus letters to her oldest daughter.” President Lincoln’s “letter to Widow Bixby” is as empathetic and demonstrative of any condolence letter addressing a mother’s loss. The King of Sweden, Gustav Vasa [1523-1560] wrote at least 1,000 letters according to records; the quantity filled 29 books.
Then there are the epistolary writers who crafted letter writing from letters available to the public. Their constructs of referring to letters within a story or a novel carried some significance to the protagonists, society, an ideal, a scandal and so on. Authors Mary Shelley [Frankenstein] and Bram Stoker [Dracula] were epistolary writers. They used letters as a vehicle to convey everything from discovery to fear, to hope and love. And to think that their stories with these references of hand written letters have to this day, remain relevant and thought provoking.
For those who already do as I do with pen and paper, well they know a few positives associated with this old-school way of communicating: for starters, no special apps or electronics are required.
Return to terra firma. A few pointers
Practically speaking, if this is your first foray, or re-entry to FP writing after a long sabbatical, you do not need a costly [above $25. USD] pen. You can obtain a fountain pen at a lower cost, but you get what you pay for. To start, select a universally adequate Medium nib. Nibs are made with steel or gold. Steel is more durable and gold has a feel all its own. The pen should come with a converter with the option of using universal ink cartridges. Color ink? That’s up to you.
Speaking of ink, the easiest brand [at least around here] anyway is a ubiquitous bottle of Parker “Quink” in black, blue-black or royal blue. I believe all but the black is water & spot-cleaner soluble in combination. Parker offers cartridges as well, useful when traveling and potentially not as messy as carrying bottled ink. The Parker cartridges are made for use in Parker pens, however, you can also use universal ink cartridges, which are shorter in length and just as functional as any other.
Paper. For initial practice, copy paper works, but it’s not ideal. You may experience blotching [when the paper sucks ink out of the pen creating spots]. And/or feathering, which is when the lines that make up your letters show tiny “feathers” coming from the main line that defines your letters. Ultimately, this will take some trial and error. Paperworks has a special sale of letter sized paper that may do the trick. Look for samplers that offer sheets of different weight papers. I cut these sheets in half and have a faux-Monarch size sheet I use for letters.
Etsy has a number of papers as well. Names such as Clairefontaine and Tomeo [fantastic quality from Japan] are just 2 of other manufacturers that offer incredible papers. I do recommend you stay with smooth finished sheets versus sheets that have texture. Trust me on that one suggestion. A smooth surface is more forgiving than one that has texture. Goulet Pens has a complete section/tab on everything that has to do with fountain pens, inks, nibs, paper et al.
You can also create your own personalized cards, letters and envelopes using an embossing stamp. I use one for my return address on the flap of the envelope and the second I use to emboss my name at the “header” area at the top of my letter.
Here’s another resource that you may find useful in your journey:
Establish a schedule to write. Get yourself a journal and consider writing anything that comes to mind. A letter to your adolescent self or your current and future selves; notes about the _[skill]_in you that you want to improve. Essentially marry your thoughts to the fine motor skills that are important to clear writing. Legible writing is one thing, while illegible writing is but stepping stone that can lead you to letters, words, sentences and more with a character that’s yours and yours alone. Like learning an instrument, to be good at it, you need to have a plan, and you need to set aside time to make it work.
When you’re all in, the writing activity goes beyond movements of your wrist. Remember it’s your writing arm that carries the energy required to move synchronously across the paper & table top. Using your entire arm is necessary because it encourages good coordination and a focus. Another benefit is the wrist won’t do all the work, which means less repetitive stress to all those small tendons and cartilage, etc.
Left handers can fountain pen their way on & across paper. Take a look at scriveiner.com which contains a good amount of helpful details on what to look for.
Finally, I leave you with perhaps the wisest sentence in this top-heavy tome of questionable relevance:
“If people cannot write well, they cannot think well, and if they cannot think well, others will do their thinking for them”. George Orwell
When you’re bogged down with writer’s block, creative fog, even brain freeze, what do you do to break free from its hold? Here’s one way to purge the hive of such impediments. Go to an opening, an art exhibit, perhaps one which deals in a medium that you know little of. In my case, think fabrics, paper and ceramics and other materials—either in combination—or crafted exclusively with fabric. An oversimplification, but a few photos can better illustrate the creations displayed at the exhibit, Beauty is Resistance, our Fall Art in the Barn Exhibtion. I was impressed with the inventiveness, originality, concept development, creativity, and overall execution of the various pieces.
At browngrotta arts, co-curators Tom Grotta and Rhonda Brown have managed original art, crafted by internationally recognized artists for more than 3 decades. My “introduction” to the pieces of art at this exhibit was an A-1 engagement of diminishing my brain fog, creative block and so on. Neither words nor photos can describe the pieces. This is a case of what I actually see and feel is amazing, because of what is physically in front of me. A demonstrative be-in-the-moment activity, to say the least. So, please take a moment to peruse a small sampling of what was on display.
A special thank you to Tom Grotta and Rhonda Brown for their hospitality and sharing their knowledge about the artists, the scope of this exhibit and their anecdotes of life in international Art. Photography: courtesy of Tom Grotta. All rights for the images and the Art are those of the artists.
Home artist Lija Rage; mixed media, wooden sticks, linen and copper [2-panels; detail shown in second image].
From Chaos to Reality artist Aleksandra Stoyanov; sisal, cotton
Shred dollar artist Chris Drury; US currency [detail shown below]
Female Husk II artist Anda Klancic; torso [from Momento Mori composition] with cone; palm tree bark, synthetic filament, acrylic, and metal wire
Ce qu’il en reste IX artist Stephanie Jacques; willow, gesso, linen thread
Flower Colors artist Mary Merkel-Hess; paper, cord, paper
Rhonda Brown co-curator
Tom Grotta co-curator
Photography a professional photographer, Tom Grotta created a display showcasing some of the literature and gear he has used through his ongoing career.
With all due respect to prodigies, I’ve looked at the histories of a variety of late bloomers, some familiar in stature, and of course others whom I’ve never heard of.
Let’s start with an author I think many readers will recognize: Bram Stoker. Yes, THE Bram Stoker, author of Dracula. Prior to the publication of his novel, Stoker worked at various jobs, the longest being that of a personal assistant and manager to noted stage actor, Sir Henry Irving. BTW, he was the first entertainer to be knighted for his contribution to theatre. This friendship started in 1896, when Stoker wrote a glowing review of Irving’s performance in a play. For about 20 years, he managed his affairs, tended to his day-to-day schedules and demands. The following year, Bram Stoker penned his literary masterpiece, Dracula.
When Irving read the novel, he thought little of it, even more so when Stoker thought his friend would take the lead role in a stage version of Dracula. Biographer Barbara Belford‘s book, Bram Stoker and the Man who was Dracula surmised that Stoker’s anti-hero was based on the conceited, self-absorbed, unpleasant person that was Irving. Irving’s pernicious behavior was relentless, and yet Stoker somehow prevailed. Irving’s repudiation of Dracula was his biggest loss, a loss forged in the theatrical history of the late 19th century. Bram Stoker was 50 years old when he penned Dracula
For the sake of brevity, the rest to follow will be brief.
TONI MORRISON
Toni Morrison, an American writer was a long-time literature professor as well as an editor for Random House. Literature meant a lot to here; she is well recognized for her writing of the life experiences of Black women and life in the U.S. She was 39 years old when she published her first book, The Bluest Eyes in 1970. Here second novel, Sula, was nominated for the American Book Award. Morrison received the Pulitzer Prize for Beloved in 1987 and in 1993, she was the first Black woman to receive the Nobel Prize for Literature.
FRANK McCOURT
McCourt’s first book was published when he was 66 years old. Angela’s Ashes won the Pulitzer Prize for autobiography/biography in 1997. The memoir was also recognized with the National Book Critics Award, the LA Times Book Award and the Exclusive Books Boeke Prize to first time novelists.
GRANDMA MOSES (Anna Mary Robertson Moses)
Ms. Moses was a celebrated American painter. She was noted for her needlework however, arthritis jettisoned that activity. Ms. Moses started painting at the age of 75. Her nostalgic style and depictions of rural life caught the attention of a collector and others, including large department stores who wanted to exhibit her work. Internationally, her work gained the interest of storied museums and galleries. A symbol of life in rural America, she passed away at 101, at the zenith of her painting creativity.
LAURA INGALLS WILDER
Laura Ingalls Wilder was a teacher, journalist, writer & columnist. Her life experiences were the subject material for her books, collectively a tome of perseverance, hardship and the challenges of farm life .She started writing her book series, Little House on the Prairie, when she was in her 60s. That first book, Little House in the Big Woods, was about her childhood. The Little house on the Prairie was Wilder’s eponymous version that proved popular in many TV households.
VERA WANG
Vera Wang had a successful career as a journalist and figure skater, but in her 40s, she started what would become a fashion empire that encompassed haute couture, high-end wedding gowns and licensed beauty products and home accessories.
NORMAN MACLEAN
I can identify with this individual: lover of writing, literature and fly fishing. An English professor, Dr. Maclean attended Dartmouth College and earned his Ph.D. at the University of Chicago where he taught for 47 years until his retirement in 1973. His most celebrated, and only book, A River Runs Through It, was published in 1976. He was 74 years old.
SALLY KRAWCHECK
Already a success on Wall Street, Krawcheck has long known that women clients were underserved by the wealth & financial management industry. She sensed that many women were not part of the discussions pertinent to financial management and more. So, she opened her own firm: Ellevest. She was 52 when she started her company that catered to women.
COLONEL SANDERS
A creative thinker, relentless believer, and one who demonstrated an enduring persistence, Harland Sanders is forever known as the southern gentleman who reinvented “home-cooked” southern-style chicken. Colonel Sanders was in his 60s when he finally achieved his renowned chicken recipe and his first Kentucky Fried Chicken franchise.
And there are so many others. If you’d like to share your short list, drop me a note. Thank you!
Back in the day, “soliloquy” was a word associated with theatre. There have been some powerful, mindful soliloquys, many found in English Literature. William Shakespeare and Robert Browning come to mind; the former for his plays, Browning for his poetry.
I find myself tuning into my inner self with soliloquys. These are not conversations to me, but a way to be honest with myself. In the process, I voice [in my head…..not out loud]. the deepest feelings which need to be brought out from the inner sanctum of my soul. These sentiments, perceptions and more, represent a personal unspoken anthology of emotions which remain exclusive to myself. Everyone should try their own form of soliloquy. You become the subject as well as the audience. The orator speaks to the most relevant, but private person in his/her life.
A recent trip to the Massachusetts Museum of Contemporary Art [MassMOCA] located in North Adams, MA is one location that gave an opportunity for reflection and acknowledgement. Come to think of it, most any museum makes a strong location for a soliloquy. Other alternatives abound: a beach, a park, a forest, a solitary space, even a space filled with people. The options are varied, but I do believe, like the soliloquys expressed in plays, poems and so forth, a place relatively quiet proves hospitable to many. A calm atmosphere is a priori given the breadth of one’s soliloquy.
Where ever you stand, and what ever you see, there lies a confluence of provocations that may come to the forefront of your thinking or introspection. The time stamp—from which these thoughts come from—depends on its significance: an early relationship gone awry; a current relationship that seems too good to be true; the unknown realm in choosing one option over another; the challenge of working through options in light of a chronic condition that will not stop let alone disappear. There’s a universe of profound feeling and thinking we can only imagine.
The above photos are from the MassMoCa’s permanent exhibit, The Boiler House. When you walk into the building, you’re visually overwhelmed with the scale and the number of boilers, pipes, connectors and vents that course over the entire space. If there ever was a place that made me feel Lilliputian, this is at the top of my list. The Boiler House is the facility that provided heat to all the space before it became MassMoCa. There are several floors, though I believe only the first 2 are open for visitors.
Suspended on tracks next to the Boiler House is an Airstream trailer. A walkway takes you to and from the Airstream to the Boiler House. This is the work of Michael Oatman, entitled “All Utopias Fell.”
A common theme in my soliloquy is this search for order and purpose, or a clarification of both. This is a challenge as I tend to overthink, excessively evaluate one over the other. Upon entering the Airstream, a myriad of visual elements reach out to you. It’s as if each photo, drawing, sign, piece of paper, object and so much more want to make mental impressions on you, as in right now. This is sensory overload and perhaps a metaphor for the soliloquy stirring in your thinking. It’s as if each piece could be a catalyst for a specific thought process. And once that piece or pieces enters your thinking, you start that introspection or make it progress to another level.
There are several “Why this?” and “What ifs?” within the profound, introspective construct of choices and decisions that are created. The certainty of being your own person, unique and unduplicated by any other, is that choices and decisions you make create the questions that begin with “why” or “what.” And while you and others are individuals in that singular sense, the framework of questioning is common for everyone, but ancillary circumstances are bound to differ between people.
Dr. Faustus, the play written by English dramatist Christopher Marlowe, revolves around the angst of Dr. Faustus agreeing to surrender his soul to the devil in exchange for magical powers. His soliloquy in the last hour before that exchange, is one which poses questions and conditions had the choices Dr. Faustus made were different. Once made, the commitment is binding, non-negotiable. There are no pause, stop or rewind buttons in life.
Shakespeare’s Hamlet is the quintessential soliloquy in my opinion. With new realities [and previous uncertainties] playing out today, themes of life & death, the meaning of our purpose and existence, mortality and vengeance are wonderfully distilled into words that examines all that can detract or enhance our existence.
I came across the last photo as I finished my visit to the Boiler House. It dawned on me that this effigy is a personification of someone covered with details that make up her/his soliloquy.
Time I spend at a museum of fine arts is about as cathartic an experience I can think of. Indeed, cathartic art is an emotional salve that can ease the burden of feelings that keep you down. For someone with dysthymia–like myself and others–engaging in positive activities helps mitigate the weight of dysthymia [Persistent Depressive Disorder]. PDD is not as well known as MDD [Major Depressive Disorder], but the former has less severe yet more persistent symptoms of depression.
With all that’s been bombarding us [unfortunately many instances are not positive] in our day-to-day, we can manage that which irks us and steer thought and action toward positive choices, which in turn can help generate positive thoughts and feelings. Some choices I lean to include blogging, letter writing, playing the piano, tennis, family time and more.
Recent family time with my 2 grown daughters, their husbands, children and their dogs percolated this thought: Both women and their spouses have full schedules with work, raising a family [includes a dog per family], volunteering etc. so then, how do these 2 women have a Room of One’s Own? I credit the exhibit now at the Clark Institute of Art, A Room of Her Own: Women Activists-Artists in Britain, 1875-1945, for germinating that thought surrounding my daughters. I encourage you to experience this exhibit; it runs until September 14, 2025.
The 1929 essay, A Room of One’s Own, was written by Virginia Woolf. You can see the tie between the title of the essay and the name of the exhibit. And if you read Ms. Woolf’s essay, all the better.
Photos taken, courtesy of Clark Institute of Art
Consider this post a “trailer” for the exhibit. It’s worth the trip, and not just for the love of art, but that of expanding our perspectives as well our own sensitivities toward women.
EPILOGUE For additional perspective with respect to women in the workforce please refer to the Women in the Workplace 10th anniversary report [published September 17, 2024 by McKinsey & Company]
In our current state of dystopia, many of us choose to distance ourselves from news media in all its forms. All that noise creates too much anxiety, along with all the other discomforts that accompany “news and information.” We are exposed to a colossus of news briefs, articles and “breaking news at this hour” enough to ignite [or bore] the minds of writers/authors well versed in our state of fear, hopelessness, frustration, suffering et al.
Misery knows no bounds, but so does hope and happiness.
Relevance and purpose can hold both good and bad in thoughts and actions, but your choice in one or the other adjectives relies in your beliefs and values that help you deal with your day-to-day. You may not realize–or even think about–your own stoic qualities.
Consider the opening paragraph of Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities.
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way–in short, the period was so far like the present period that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.”
When you realize you can’t control everything, but manage the ones you can, then you’re in a better place than many others.
It happens each year: Spring. It is perhaps the season that celebrates its affinity with renewal, new starts, opportunities, hope and personal rejuvenation. For the past 12-years, The Springfield Museum has held a unique exhibition that acknowledges some of these nuances of change, transitions, challenges, renewal et al.
courtesy Michelle & Donald D’Amour Museum of Fine Arts
In each of the four museums that make up the Springfield Quadrangle, members of gardening clubs and florists based around the area created arrangements of colors, textures and other details in a manner that would intersect with a selected painting or other creation within the museums.
The creativity range was as eclectic and electric as anything I’ve seen, simply because of the relationship that attempted to “unify” two discreetly different pieces of art.
The juxtaposed subjects provided depth, perspective and of course relevance through the use of color and hues, manifestations of the blending of material, thread size, color, props, textures and so forth.
Some arrangements did not have a direct connection to a piece of art in the gallery. My sense is that such arrangements–such as the one displayed above–were created to compliment art already sitting in that room.
From headwear and accessories to…..
….gowns made entirely of real greens and flowers, the creativity was beyond words! Next April 2026, should be an interesting installation! See you then.
Carlo Centeno 