Dear Friends,
Tradition is like a river, a Nile, which brings to its Delta deposits from afar. Along this river are holy cities. The source, we never find, but at some points along its course, an event occurs which the next hundred years attempts to understand.
One such event is the poet Novalis.
As, when a comet strikes, those it does not destroy return, again and again, to the crater, so do the Romantics return to Novalis.
When Isolde sings:
In dem wogenden Schwall,
in dem tönenden Schall,
in des Welt-Atems
wehendem All ---
ertrinken,
versinken ---
unbewußt ---
höchste Lust!
Liebestod [Love Death] from Tristan und Isolde, Wagner
[In the swelling waves, the resounding sound, the breathing of the world, to drown, go under, unknowing — highest bliss!]
she develops a theme from his Hymns to the Night, as does Zarathustra:
Die Welt ist tief,
Und tiefer als der Tag gedacht.
Also sprach Zarathustra, Friedrich Nietzsche
[The world is deep, and deeper than Day imagined.]
This theme does not have its origin in Novalis; it is eternal. Four hundred years before, The Cloud of Unknowing had put it this way:
By love may He [God] be gotten and holden; but by thought never.
At the gateway to the 1800s, at a time when it appeared that Day had triumphed, at a time when it appeared a universal calculus could get and hold everything, Novalis wrote of the Night. He knew the Day was a dream.
In our own moment, when what appears in the light is so obviously false, when we can feel what is happening but not see it, his words have special significance:
Wir sind dem Aufwachen nah, wenn wir träumen, daß wir träumen.
[When we dream that we dream, we are near waking.]
Thank you so much.
With every good wish,
Ishmael
An excerpt from Hymns to the Night, I (translation by IW):
…I turn aside to the holy, inexpressible, mysterious Night. Far off lies the world, sunk in a deep abyss, her place deserted and lonely. Among my heartstrings plays the breath of deep sorrow. I long to sink down as drops of dew and blend with her ashes. Expanses of memory, wishes of youth, dreams of childhood, the brief joys of a long life, and hopes unfulfilled come in gray clothing, like evening mists after sunset. The Light has pitched his tents in other realms. Will he never return to his children who wait with innocent faith?
What wells up in the heart like a premonition, and breathes in the soft breeze of sorrow? Are you well disposed to us, dark Night? What is it you hold beneath your cloak, which enters my soul with invisible force? Costly balsam drops from your hand, from the sheaf of poppies. You raise up the spirit’s heavy wings. Darkly and inexpressibly we feel ourselves moved; I see with glad astonishment a grave face, which gently and reverently bends toward me, and, beneath the infinite curls of the Mother, shows lovely youth.
How poor and childish seems now the Light; how gladdening and blest, day’s departure. In the time of your absence, Night having rendered your servants unneeded, you sow shining seeds in the vastness of space to announce your omnipotence, your return. More heavenly than those sparkling stars appear to us the infinite eyes which Night opens within us. They see further than the palest of that innumerable horde; without requiring light, they see into the depths of a loving heart, which fills a higher region with unspeakable delight.
Praised be the Queen of the world, the high herald of holier worlds, the one who tends blessed love; she sends me you, sweet Beloved, lovely Sun of Night. Now I wake, for I am with you; you have revealed the life of Night, made me human. Consume my body with the spirit’s glow, so like a breath of wind, I may more inwardly join with you — so the wedding night may be eternal.
Hymns to the Night original (the excerpt above begins with paragraph 2).
In Castalia, I offer poetry and song. For a few weeks, the song will be paused; it should resume in August.
I offer lessons online in music theory; for a taste of the insights to which it may lead, please see my website:
It does seem like the day is about to end and that night is nearly upon us.