There's Somebody Calling Who's We

I recently posted a footnote to an article I put up recently on chronic illness and the eremitical vocation. In responding to a canonist's comment about the way illness shapes our responses to vocation, I suggested that chronic illness and disability were a substantive part of my eremitical vocation. I said that God called ME to this vocation, not me sans illness, or even me sans sinfulness, but the whole of me, and that included chronic illness and disability. I also suggested that God did not mean to celebrate these things, but they are still intrinsic to MY vocation. In the footnote, I wanted to clarify that God does indeed celebrate ME and my life, and I came to a greater sense that this meant celebrating the fact that the "I" that I am is really a "we". As I wrote that, I was reminded of an e e cummings poem I have loved since the late 1960's, "if everything happens that can't be done".

 if everything happens that can't be done

(and anything's righter

than books

could plan)

the stupidest teacher will almost guess

(with a run

skip

around we go yes)

there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although

(and buds know better

than books

don't grow)

one's anything old being everything new

(with a what

which

around we come who)

one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf so a tree is a bough

(and birds sing sweeter

than books

tell how)

so here is away and so your is a my

(with a down

up

around again fly)

forever was never till now

now i love you and you love me

(and books are shuter

than books

can be)

and deep in the high that does nothing but fall

(with a shout

each

around we go all)

there's somebody calling who's we

we're anything brighter than even the sun

(we're everything greater

than books

might mean)

we're everyanything more than believe

(with a spin

leap

alive we're alive)

we're wonderful one times one

When I think about existential solitude, or times of great loneliness and suffering, I am aware now of the line in the poem that says, "there's somebody calling who's we". I have never had the experience of being abandoned by God, though I have been aware of feeling God's remoteness at times. In my young adult to adult life, I have lived in light of the sense that I am a dialogical reality, constituted by an ongoing conversation with God, who is the source and ground of being and meaning. Similarly, I have long had the sense that we are each called to be united with God. In this sense, each one of us is called to be a "we." In this union with God, we become most truly ourselves, and God becomes most truly the One he wills to be, Emmanuel. We also move further away from isolation and individualism in the process. Mostly, we know shadows and echoes of this "we" as we fall in love with other people, live with them, accompany them, celebrate, and grieve with them. And sometimes, as mystics tell us, we can know and be known by God in such a way that together we become the "We" we are meant to become.

For the hermit, this "we" defines the hidden heart of eremitical solitude. Coming to and witnessing to the universal call to become a "oneness" (a unity marked by wholeness and holiness) that is also a "we" is the work and mission of the hermit's vocation. It is the reality that constitutes both the anguish and the unalloyed joy of her life and calling. While I don't think e e cummings was a mystic -- at least not in the usual sense -- there is no doubt that he understood love and what happens when a person comes to fullness in themselves in relationship with another. I especially love the way Cummings creates a kind of breathlessness and topsy-turvy quality in his imagery of what happens when the impossible is actually realized. I am struck by how well he captures the joy of union undimmed despite allusions to moments of incompleteness, yearning, and searching. Cummings' journey is one where he moves from merely "believing in" love to actually knowing the fullness of being and meaning associated with an I becoming a We. 

This is another way of talking about dying to self (i.e., dying to the I of individualism, egoism, and isolation) and becoming the one (whole and holy) who is fully alive in the "we" we each are potentially. "(with a spin/ leap/ alive we're alive)". This is what it means to love and be loved, especially by God. It is more than Cummings could have imagined (he says so clearly in the poem), nothing he could have learned in books, or been taught by even the wisest of teachers (who, like even the dumbest of teachers, know better than to try!). For Christians called to live our lives toward union with God, it is also more than we can imagine. And maybe that is also why the hermit vocation is so little understood today. Union with God is something we are each made for. That God is called and wills to be Emmanuel tells us this. The anguish and yearning of existential solitude tell us this. The fact that the Church needs, professes, and consecrates hermits, who say this with their lives, tells us this. For each of us, "there's somebody calling who's we".

A note on the image: I received this image (A girl joyfully embracing and being embraced by the universe or, perhaps, by God) from a friend in Milan (Parabiago), Italy. Luisa was an AFS foreign exchange student when I was in high school. She was a senior when I was a sophomore and we became friends. She remains a friend and the occasional source for great music, art, etc. In any case, I love this picture and thought it was perfect for this reflection.

if everything happens that can't be done (or One Times One)

Forty-five years ago I did a presentation for an English class. As a result I also published my first article in the journal, The Explicator. (That the journal sent me five copies addressed to "Professor Laurel M O'Neal, Department of English" when I had merely been a Sophomore at the college was a real thrill for me!) The presentation involved two poems by e.e. cummings. One of these was "What if a Much of a Which of a Wind". The second was "1 X 1".

It never occurred to me at that point in my life that this poem might be a description of my vocation much less an explication of what I have been writing about the hiddenness and gift of eremitical life. Still, when I spoke about the sacramental "We" the hermit is to become and witness to in the silence of solitude, I realized I was thinking of this e.e. cummings' poem. It must have resonated with me far more deeply than I realized. Cummings was writing about romantic, erotic love in 1 X 1, but I think it is a wonderful celebration and explication of what I have been struggling to say about union with God, the silence of solitude, and the hiddenness of the eremitical life. After all, sexual love is a reflection of this more fundamental and transcendent union/love.


if everything happens that can't be done
(and anything's righter
than books
could plan)
the stupidest teacher will almost guess
(with a run
skip
around we go yes)
there's nothing as something as one

one hasn't a why or because or although
(and buds know better
than books
don't grow)
one's anything old being everytthing new
(with a what
which
around we come who)
one's everyanything so

so world is a leaf so tree is a bough
(and birds sing sweeter
than books
tell how)
so here is away so your is a my
(with a down
up
around again fly)
forever was never til now

now i love you and you love me
(and books are shuter
than books
can be)
and deep in the high that does nothing but fall
(with a shout
each
around we go all)
there's somebody calling who's we

we're anything brighter than even the sun
(we're everything greater
than books
might mean)
we're everyanything more than believe
(with a spin
leap
alive we're alive)
we're wonderful one times one