2 December 04
Different Paths
I’ve been taking an online calligraphy class, my first. Roman Majuscules. The ones on the Trajan Column, beautifully proportioned and fiendishly difficult to do well—the basics are easy but everything, EVERYTHING is in the nuance, the subtleties. It requires a lot of practice.
The time I have to practice is early in the morning. This is also the time when I might be writing or meditating, and in practice it ends up being the time when I everyone else’s blog over several cups of tea. And get ready for work, having eaten breakfast. And taken a shower. And am late for work. And so on.
Meditation’s not easy for me; I am easily distracted and the thought of a week of Zen practice, let alone longer, is inconceivable (Lorianne has my admiration no just because she wrote a 50,000-word novel in the month of November…). All the uncomfortable sitting, thoughts whizzing through my brain…. Yet this morning as I patiently dipped the pen in the ink, strove for the 30 degree pen angle (but 60 degree on the verticals of the “N,” 20 degrees on the “Q’s” tail and the upper diagonal of the “K,” 0 degrees on the diagonal of the “Z,” I pondered on what a meditative exercise it was. Family groups, organized widest to narrowest; then the alphabet; then abecedarian sentences (I gravitate mostly to those in Latin, like “Trans zephyrique globum scandunt tua facta per axem,” which nonetheless leaves out “K” and “W” as well as “V” which should replace the “U”). Finally, I decided to try Michael Nagler’s suggestion of the prayer of St. Francis.
There is no way to write these letters quickly. They build stroke upon stroke, over time, and the space between the strokes is as important as the shape of the letterform. They get absorbed, penetrate the psyche. It’s pure concentration: pure present.
Lorianne says a Trappist monk once told her Catholicism had lost sight of its contemplative roots. I’d like to think the invention of the printing press had a tiny part in that….
Since this photo gives a rough sense of what the rest of the house looks like, and the reasons I find to avoiding doing housework, this will serve as an Ecotone Wiki entry—this time it’s Housekeeping and Place.
Did I tell you when I was little I wanted to grow up to be a monk? I thought there would be nothing more wonderful than living in some tiny cell in a huge cathedral and spending one’s life painstakingly making illuminated manuscripts. I was devastated when I found out this was no longer a realistic career path, and, too, that being that sort of monk required being male and some belief in the Christian religion. Still, I don’t think I’ve entirely gotten over that early dream. I have an obsession with calligraphy that borders on unhealthy.
And if Siona has an obsession with calligraphy, I have one with Japanese calligraphy brushes.