The essayist’s head is always in the clouds, his feet are never on the ground. What keeps me going is to cultivate an inner joy. A sort of contemplative trance is for me the most blessed state in which to find oneself. Sometimes it even leads to prayer, the highest form of reflection and communion.
As a writer, I sometimes like to step back from specific topics and “content” to reflect on the nature of writing and reflective thought itself. In a sort of New Year’s mood out of season, I like to take stock of what I am trying to do as a way of clarifying my intentions, clearing my head, and perhaps relaxing a bit as I ponder how I want to go forward.
What got me in this mood is the realization that it has been five years since Mr. Stephen Klugewicz generously invited me to join this journal as a Senior Contributor, after having contributed several essays as a guest. I remember that it happened on a beautiful day in October. Strangely enough, it was also on an October day, this year, that I received notice that another of my creative endeavors is to receive a boost: one of the movie scripts I have written and have been refining over the last several years has found a director. This is big news to me as it means that a very important phase of imaginative expression for me is, God willing, on its way to becoming realized.
As a writer of essays, I feel I am just getting warmed up; but I like to take inventory a bit, pause and reflect. Reflecting is, after all, what essay writing is all about.
One of the perks of being an essayist is that the whole world is your oyster. A carpenter deals in tables and chairs, and a broker deals in stocks and bonds, but an essayist deals in everything, at least theoretically. Or let’s say at least that he deals in life and culture as a whole. And he does so as a relative amateur, a generalized observer rather than a learned specialist. In this regard, some would pose a distinction between the essay and the scholarly article or learned paper, written by an expert in a particular field. I won’t wade into that argument here. Suffice it to say that what we specialize in here in this journal is what might be called the cultural-philosophical essay. Into this lofty genre many of us try to inject the amiable qualities of the personal or familiar essay (i.e., it is kosher to say “I” and “me,” as I am doing copiously here).
Because the essayist’s métier is life itself, he at some point has to think long and hard about who he is, what he wants to express, and how he wants to express it—the existential dimension of the profession. Here are just a few of the themes and topics that interest me and which I like to explore in essayistic style in a journal of conservative ideas such as this one:
-the meaning of culture and civilization (Western branch)
-the meaning of humanism (Christian branch) and the ramifications of the Incarnation for life and culture; the relationship between the secular and the sacred
-the meaning of the good life, particularly as expressed in spirituality and culture
-the relationship between faith and reason in its myriad aspects
-the importance of the religious consciousness in general, and the theological perspective as it should inform our lives and view of the world—in particular, the drama of the Resurrection as a sign of hope. In my outlook I am primarily an Easter man.
-the importance of creation, nature, beauty, art, imagination
-the interplay between tradition and innovation in the arts, and what a conservative aesthetic might mean—in particular, delving into the great tradition of Western music (an artform of which I have some knowledge and experience)
-the lure of the past, and the meaning history has for us in this pilgrimage of life
-the contrast between the “practical” and that which, blessedly, has no use
-the contrast between the earthly/mundane and the heavenly/beatific, the not-yet and the almost-there, which we can glimpse through prayer, art, or philosophic insight
I suppose any one of the above topics would probably furnish sufficient reflection for a lifetime. Being a professional reflector, an essayist finds that there is hardly any point during the day when he is not reflecting. He may even be reflecting while he is asleep. The tired businessman comes home at 6:00 and wants to unwind with some food and light entertainment, but for the essayist the workday never ends.
The good side of this is that the work is always sweet and interesting and gratifying, even if challenging. It is never a drudgery, although there are to be sure days of spiritual dryness and lack of inspiration. But when these are overcome, when the drought ends and the rains come to water the furrows, you realize what a glorious calling this is. Life for the essayist is an endless journey of discovery, leading one hopes to some ultimate epiphany or truth.
To get there, the essayist must constantly saturate himself with reading and learning, expose himself to many writers and thinkers, and read plenty of essays by the masters.
The Essayist as Loafer
Speaking of the essayist as a quasi-member of society, Philip Lopate writes: “As part of their ironic modesty, personal essayists frequently represent themselves as loafers or retirees, inactive and tangential to the marketplace. The shiftless marginality of the essayist’s persona is underscored by the titles of some of the most famous essay series…The Idler, The Rambler…The Spectator, The Tatler…”
You may sign me up for this fraternity of loafers. To many, thinking about the things I listed above full-time (not just on weekends) looks suspiciously like idling. But such reflection helps to remind ourselves of the mystery of life. By not always being busy doing something practical, we can tune into the eternal and permanent things.
In this regard, the essayist’s situation is directly reversed from that of civilians engaged in practical professions—his head is always in the clouds, his feet are never on the ground.
What keeps me going, and I recommend it to anyone in any walk of life, is to cultivate an inner joy, from whatever source it might come—from faith or from art or from family or nature or one’s chosen profession. A sort of contemplative trance is for me the most blessed state in which to find oneself. Sometimes it even leads to prayer, the highest form of reflection and communion. Time seems to dissolve and one enters prematurely into that realm where the blessed dwell. It happens to me but rarely because I am often filled with disquiet. The last time was recently at the riverside park in the Hudson Valley in the state of New York where I was vacationing; I felt a complete peace and contentment and inner joy, with no desire to do anything—merely to be.
Such, it seems to me, is the goal of life. I encourage anyone, including and maybe even especially those who pursue more practical ways of life, to mark out a space in their lives for it. As for me, I intend to keep on reading, thinking, reflecting, and writing on the great and inexhaustible themes I mentioned.
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The featured image is “Podczas lektury” (1886) by Maria Klass-Kazanowska, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
