It is interesting to note how many artists have had physical problems to overcome, deformities, lameness, terrible loneliness. Could Beethoven have written the glorious paean of praise in the Ninth Symphony if he had not had to endure the dark closing in of deafness? As I look through his work chronologically, there's no denying that it deepens and strengthens along with the deafness. Could Milton have seen all that he sees in Paradise Lost
if he had not been blind? It is chastening to realize that those who have no physical flaw, who move through life in step with their peers, who are bright and beautiful, seldom become artists. The unending paradox is that we learn through pain.
My mother's long life had more than its fair share of pain and tragedy. One time, after something difficult had happened, one of her childhood friends came to give comfort and help. Instead of which, she burst into tears and sobbed out, "I envy you! I envy you! You've had a terrible life but you've lived!"
I look back at my mother's life and I see suffering deepening and strengthening it. In some people I have also seen it destroy. Pain is not always creative; received wrongly, it can lead to alcoholism and madness and suicide. Nevertheless, without it we do not grow.
Madeleine L'Engle, Walking on Water: Reflections on Faith & Art
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3 comments:
One of my favorite books (shocking, I know). Thanks for reminding me of that passage.
if you asked the artist, i wonder if they would say the trade off was worth the pain.
sometimes i find myself telling god i will go through anything to be the best version of myself. rather, i want to be expanded to be better than the best current version of myself. i can be in a place of 'bring on the pain' because i know there is beauty on the other side.
but other times i think there is something to be said for comfort and stability and routine. for life not feeling like a roller coaster. would milton have given up paradise lost for sight? it seems easy to understand the trade off in others pain when we benefit from the beauty and art, but harder when we have to sit in personal pain and own it without the tangible promise of Light.
working with bi-polar clients is a difficult task. they often do not want to take their meds because mania feels pretty damn good. of course the depression hits and life unravels, but the manic highs of productivity and creativity can't be matched. yet we would all agree that treatment is necessary because these highs are not worth the lows that always follow.
i guess the closing point of the quote you shared is that for some pain can deepen who we are, and for others it can destroy. i guess i don't get to choose whether or not i have pain in my life, but i can be a participant to make sure it takes me to deeper places. still... in this moment... i don't like it.
and there, paul, are my saturday evening thoughts.... thanks for sharing yours.
Diane, I appreciate the honest sharing. I, too, have at times been at that place of not appreciating the "opportunity to grow" that presents itself in a painful circumstance.
I think it's incredibly difficult to "receive" suffering in the way in which L'Engle suggests. But I do agree with her that the suffering/pain leads to growth and creativity.
I can attest to this from a personal as well as an artistic point of view. I have no idea if Milton would have given up what he had written in order to see--or if Beethoven would have in order to hear. I want to believe they would not have.
As an artist, there are moments in the creative process where one feels very close to Whole, and even if pain/suffering led to that point, I don't think the artist cares once there.
Also, looking back at something--6 months, 3 years, 10 years--seeing the beauty (if only in the artist's eye), and understanding the blood/sweat/tears that when into the creation have always been worth it for me.
But obviously I'm not blind, I'm not deaf, I'm not bi-polar. Perhaps I'd feel differently if I was.
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