Well, when one is drunk, one finds herself a prophet. I do believe in all those things I listed in my last letter, although my endorsement of them are a bit more pronounced (and generic) upon glass numero tres of red wine.
Anyway, this weekend I went with my mother to The Library of Congress. The "great hall" is stunning in its architecture and painted walls, which are embossed with many quotes, among them: "The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehended it not." It struck me to silence.
Can't that quote be applied to the meaning of ignorance?:
ig·no·rance (ĭg'nər-əns) : n. The condition of being uneducated, unaware, or uninformed.
Isn't the darkness ignorance? And in this cloak of darkness there is an inability, or a lack of participation in the quest, to understand "truth"? Here, blindness, even in the brightest of places.
Later, dressed in boxer shorts and a t-shirt, I "googled" the phrase. I wasn't surprised to learn it's from the bible.
John 1:
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning."Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
"There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world."
Lord! Look at that multifaceted narrative. It's really quite brilliant. Here "word" becomes "Word", which changes the meaning, or at least the intention of the word, entirely. And John is both an observer and a channel of knowledge and creation. That excerpt is a fold within itself.
Right now, I'm listening to Dire Straits "Romeo and Juliet". I'm fascinated by the impetus provided by literary texts. Inspiration, inspiration, you sneaky woman. We all steal stories, I suppose.
Lately I've been unable to give voice to my thoughts, and even now I find this letter to be inadequate. I've become quieter and more contemplative, and this is a good thing. Kenneth Bruffee once said (paraphrase here): "Writing is conversation internalized re-externalized onto paper." I believe that. Another bullet to the list.
yours,
l.c.
