Annihilating all that’s made
To a green thought in a green shade
Andrew Marvell, The Garden
I hope we have all had green thoughts in green shades recently. Is there any greater solace than reclining in the shade of a tree and letting the mind wander where it will? Marvell finds in the garden a delectable retreat from the world of competitive egos: ‘How vainly men themselves amaze’, his poem begins, ‘To win the palm, the oak, or bays’. In other words, how much time and energy we waste in the futile pursuit of worldly prizes. The poet finds in the garden Quiet and Innocence, a setting where the mind ‘Withdraws into its happiness’. In the splendid recent weather, many of us have found similar moments of calm, even in the knowledge of ongoing disaster, listening to the birdsong and breeze, oddly vivid against the near-silent roads.
So nature has been one precious retreat. Another, for me, has been music. On our keyboard at home I have been playing the simpler pieces from Bartok’s Mikrokosmos, preludes by Bach and the sequence Musica Callada (Silent Music) by a composer who has fascinated me for many years, the Catalan Federico Mompou. His ‘silent music’ brings to mind T S Eliot’s line ‘Music heard so deeply That it is not heard at all’. Well, I say I play these pieces, but ‘playing’ is stretching it a bit. I drift and dabble, speeding up and slowing down, lingering on a phrase, playing a single passage and moving outwards. It’s an exploration more than a performance. But whatever it is, the exercise is a calming, absorbing occupation, all the more so since I know there is no test at the end of it, no laurel wreath to be pursued. It is not an activity leading to a higher goal. This, the doing of it now, finding value and meaning in a handful of notes, is the whole point of it. The mind withdraws into its happiness.
As a literature teacher I should probably give an account of my reading, but there hasn’t been that much of it. Proust has stayed on the shelf. My mind has recoiled from the complexities of long books but I have found myself attentive to shorter forms, like essays and poetry. At my elbow is Wai-Lim Yip’s anthology Chinese Poetry, which prints the original characters next to literal translations. I have no Chinese, but love to let my mind rest on a line like ‘Birds scatter; last flowers fall’ or ‘Weeping reaches straight to the skies beyond clouds’ – thoughts that go off like depth charges deep in the mind’s ocean. Poetry books lie scattered about the house, to be picked up and browsed in for a few moments. I don’t analyse or consciously interpret them, just listen, like eavesdropping on a conversation at the next table.
But my favourite retreat over the last few weeks has been in making images, principally in the activities of photography and drawing. Both occupations make me pay more attention to the world and, I think, enhance each other. With the camera, I like taking still life pictures of simple objects, close-ups of garden flowers and shots of the dappled chalky lanes of our beautiful countryside. And my sketchbook bulges with drawings - some done slowly, others quickly, playing with different methods and media. The activity of drawing is an addictive process of seeing, registering, mark-making, of knowing and not knowing simultaneously. A drawing is a brief moment of closure, but it is never really finished, as it always opens up new questions which lead you to the next one. I believe it was the artist Maggi Hambling who said ‘Every drawing should be an experiment’. I love that challenge of not relying on familiar formulae, of moving to new, untested ground. As with music, the richness of the experience lies in the process more than the product, and the fact that there is no exam, no laurel wreath, again allows one to relish that feeling of process, of being in the moment.
These various occupations have made me think about the vital place of creativity and imaginative expression in our lives. Outside the garden, they can be pushed aside as we vainly amaze ourselves in other pursuits, as we move from otium to nec-otium, business, busy-ness. Yet the experience of imagination, of experiment, risk-taking, exploration – of becoming conscious of ourselves as creative agents rather than passive drones – should surely be part of the pulse of ordinary living. In the garden or out of it, some space for the imagining mind needs to be found if we are to lead a full and healthy human life.
Green thoughts from a green shade.
Or, as Wang Pin-Chih puts it, in Orchid Pavilion:
Beaming flowers in the thicket
Sporting fishes in full stream.
At the bank, cast a line –
Fully content –fish or no fish.
2nd July 2020
In our last postcard from home this term, Anvesh explains that, whilst he misses friends and school life, he has enjoyed spending time with his family, learning recipes from his older sister and playing games with his parents.
26th June 2020
There is always something to celebrate at Winchester College and the last couple of years have been particularly full of significant anniversaries - the opening of the boarding houses and the conversion of Commoners into classrooms - and this summer sees the 150th anniversary of the opening of Moberly Library.
22nd June 2020
English don Tom Quale considers how literature bears "the indelible impression of its time" and what that might mean for the writing taking place during this turbulent period.
15th June 2020
Delivering lessons online and then wandering an empty campus, English don Mrs Lucia Quinault, feels the presence of previous pupils and teachers, with the grounds and buildings imbued with their happy memories.
15th June 2020
Volunteering in his local village and cycling for charity, Alfred is using his time away from school in a particularly inspiring way.
8th June 2020
English don, Richard Stillman reflects on the protests sweeping the United States and United Kingdom, what we might do to educate ourselves, and how this might help make a difference.