Hello Salonsitas past, current and potential.
This has been such a strange year . . . but, thanks to so many of you, it has been a year of discovery and development for the Salon community. I hope others have found – as I have – the studies to provide some ballast in this unstable time.
There is the frenetic energy of the moments in the Salon when we build upon each other’s ideas, questions, struggles, to come (unexpectedly, with a whoosh of pleasure) to textured reading that resonates with each of us, and with the text. In those moments, the loud world hums around us, briefly, with rhythm instead of dissonance. And, in spite of the divided Zoom frame, I feel connected to a global gathering of hungry minds.
But the Salon has also given me the enduring gift of apt words, deeply witty aphorisms and lyrical phrasings shared between the Salonistas embedded in a particular work. The photo above is an example: all of those cards are Joyce-connected, the postcard from Gibraltar (combining Proust AND Joyce in an involuntary memory connecting fragrance and literary references), a seascape with a vision towards Sandymount, Dylan – grandson of two dedicated Joyceans – preparing for his life-long reading, a Yulysses greeting from a Wakian with this Joyce (Ithaca) quote:
“May this Yuletide bring to thee
Joy and peace and welcome glee”
The winter solstice is a time when I am reminded to stop fighting the dark and hard moments, and instead to make room. To find a space of quiet and reflection, to be mindful of the struggle of others in this hard, hard time, to be present even as the world swirls. And in the gift of poetry, I find words that help me hold the dark:
Quiet friend who has come so far,
feel how your breathing makes more space around you.
Let this darkness be a bell tower
and you the bell. As you ring,
what batters you becomes your strength.
Move back and forth into the change.
What is it like, such intensity of pain?
If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.
In this uncontainable night,
be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,
the meaning discovered there.
And if the world has ceased to hear you,
say to the silent earth: I flow.
To the rushing water, speak: I am.
Rainer Maria Rilke, Sonnets to Orpheus II, 29
And finally, some Joyce trivia: from a 2022 Ulyssian:
Q. What have Sir Richard Rogers (recently departed architect of the Pompidou Centre, Lloyds Building et al) have in common with Mr Joyce?
A. Mr Joyce taught English to Richard Roger’s mother, Dada, when he was in Trieste.
Who knew?
Have a peaceful, happy and healthy time and look forward to catching up in 2022.
P.S. If you haven’t already seen our new LitSalon Challenge it’s free to join and please pass it on to anyone who you think might be interested. You can hear me talking about it on Times Radio here (about 2 hours 25 minutes into the programme, although be warned that it can take quite a long time to load).
