When it's all too much
On Wednesday last week (27 April 2022), I read Stephen (“Steve”) Jenkinson’s most recent piece (he doesn’t blog and rarely posts to his website) called All Out of Still. I shared it on Twitter and LinkedIn but no one liked it or commented on it. Perhaps a few of my followers or connections did read the piece but for me, hence this post, I’m still struggling to come to terms with what Steve is trying to say. This extract I find particularly haunting, if not more than a little oracular:
“In my straining after stillness I wrote a piece for a Swedish filmmaker that I called Still. The irony.
About a third of the way through, there’s a contemplation about the fierce discipline monastic types take upon themselves to replace the less orchestrated strain of ordinary, this-worldly life. It concludes thus:
So you pray for clarity. And you get it. And it’s too much.
So you pray for mercy instead. And you get it. And it’s not enough.
So you pray for clarity instead. And you get it. And it’s too much.
So you pray for mercy … (repeat to a slow fade)
And so on.”
The film that he’s talking about is the one below and again I shared this on Twitter etc and it too got nary a like or mention. I wasn’t surprised. The piece that he wrote, if you don’t want to watch the whole film, starts at 23 minutes.
Let’s take the first line:
So you pray for clarity. And you get it. And it’s too much.
Do any of us pray these days?
I don’t mean do we go to Church or a Mosque to pray. I mean do we pray in the ordinary, natural meaning of the word?
Think about our polytheistic ancestors who prayed for rain or sun or a good harvest. I can’t conceive of how they might have done it and certainly I’ve no trace of ancestry here and about that I could look to for the mechanics or the ceremonial duties of said praying but I’d wager that none of us in the West would know how to pray, save perhaps to ask reverently and fervently for something. Then again, when everything is available to you and only a Google search away, why would you need to pray except perhaps for more money or more time!
And then there’s the word clarity. This is what my etymological dictionary says:
clarity (n.)
c. 1300, clarte, clerte "brightness, radiance; glory, splendor," from Old French clerte, clartet (Modern French clarté) "clarity, brightness," from Latin claritas "brightness, splendor," also, of sounds, "clearness;" figuratively "celebrity, renown, fame," from clarare "make clear," from clarus "clear" (see clear (adj.)).
Modern form is first attested early 15c., perhaps a reborrowing directly from Latin. Original senses are obsolete; meaning "clearness" (of color, judgment, style, etc.) is from mid-15c.
Of course, this definition seems a million miles away from the modern-day meaning of the word which is used mostly around ideation, process and planning; namely, we all need to get clear with what we’re trying to achieve. So it’s results-driven.
But what if we were to pray for more splendour instead? That would seem a very odd proposition, wouldn’t it? Another way of putting this might be more light, more love, more freshness in our lives.
And there’s the last bit of the verse:
And you get it. And it’s too much. (my emphasis)
Imagine that. Too much clarity. It overwhelms you or you suddenly realise you’re in over your head.
You might say that I’m being too much of a lawyer teasing these words apart and I’d be better writing to Steve to ask him what the hell he meant both in his post and the piece he wrote for the film. (The thought has crossed my mind.) But I don’t think so. If anything, I don’t think I’ve spent nearly enough time considering what too much of anything looks like.
And why is that important you might ask?
Well, it appears to me that in the current opinion fest that passes for sanity, everyone is seeking something. But what if they were to get it and then found it all too much? Examples might include: money, love, silence, compassion, kindness, resilience…and the list goes on and on.
What’s wrong with now?
What?
Well, in this moment there’s everything that’s happening and everything you’ll ever need. It might be sh*t, it might be dark, it might be a whole world that you’re not seeking but its aliveness isn’t going to change.
Too metaphysical for you?
Too woo-woo?
Too much BS?
Quite possibly but as I say often, in the context of so many things (you’ll need to watch the film The Equalizer with Denzel Washington):
When you pray for rain you’ve got to deal with mud.
Perhaps remember that the next time you’re embarking on another mission to reach the apogee of your potential and all that other stuff we’re told should be top of our agenda.
Blessings,
Julian
'My' take on interpreting his work really comes from my own experience. The more I made my works public the more I became aware of how we interpret what other's write. Often, so very often, someone would comment about what I wrote and what it meant. And they were no where near 'my' meaning. I can't say they were wrong on what they felt it meant, because that's what it meant to them. But it often did not mirror my intention. I say this because out of this piece of yours, your struggle to come to terms with what the writer Steve meant, struck me more than what he wrote, because of my experience. It's a circle.
Prayer is the song of our heart
Prayer is the tuning of our intention
Prayer gives voice to our fears and expresses them as love
Prayer is an orientation towards belonging
Prayer is an invitation into now
Prayer is a declaration of love