I haven't written for a very long time, for many reasons. One is that no one I asked to read my blog ever read it. It was quite discouraging to find that even your friends are not interested in reading your pithy comments and deep digressions, but that seemed to be the case. The other reason is I went off to England again, to help at Little Gidding, to visit friends and to try and find what it is I am looking for.
This is the main problem; I am no longer a young woman, my hour-glass is a bit thinner on the top now. I have drifted through my life, going from one job to the next, one house to the next, but never landing on what it is I really wanted to do with myself. I thought, for a time, I wanted to be a clothing designer, then a costume designer and had brief stints with both. But after health time and money ran out, those endeavors ran out too. Then I was going to be an artist, then a children's book illustrator, and always, a writer. I could have been all of those things, as I do have talent in any of those areas, and this is not vanity, this is just a fact. I can draw rather well, paint nicely and can write decent poems and prose. But what I lack is drive. I get so overwhelmed by the fact that I don't have a clue on how to sell myself, that I just go back to drifting.
But, somehow I managed to make it to Europe and found myself at Little Gidding. Now, you don't come upon Little Gidding like you would come upon say, Stratford-Upon-Avon or any of the oh so cute village in the Cotswolds. In other words, you wouldn't be driving along the A14 and see a sign for Little Gidding and say, "Oh, honey, let's go there it sounds so cute." Little Gidding isn't even on most maps and for that matter, Great Gidding and Steeple Gidding, which comprise the Giddings proper, usually are not on the map either. No, Little Gidding is a destination, it is a place you travel to deliberately, as I did.
I am, if you have not already ascertained, am a T.S. Eliot geek. I love his poetry and I especially love The Four Quartets. So I decided to visit each of the quartets or poems. Burnt Norton is only accessible if you have an appointment, and Dry Salvages is in the sea off the coast of Massachuetts, and I have been to East Coker, which is where Eliot is buried, or at least is where his ashes are spread. It was lovely, quiet, and I read the poem there and felt much closer the words. But, aside from my ever patient husband, there was no one to talk to about it. It was a small, silent village that wasn't really very open.
But I really want to experience the chapel at Little Gidding. I had read in books on Eliot that it was near a village, and I pictured a small town with a church on the edge. I googled Michelin to find the directions to the Giddings and it gave me very concise, easy to follow twists and turns and roads that when we drove them, lead us deeper into to the Cambridgeshire countryside. The roads began to narrow, until the sign that pointed to Little Gidding itself was no more than a track.
We trundled down it to find a cluster of small duplexes and one large house, and to the side of that, the chapel. I told my husband not to mention TS Eliot because I thought the house and chapel where just, well, there as A house and A chapel. But once inside the house, we found that this was THE house and THE chapel, full of history, full of poetry and full of people and activity. We were invited to lunch, where we met the wardens of the house, which we learned was called Ferrar House, and the founder of the TS Eliot society in England, who just happened to be there that day. I was in my element, it was like I found exactly what I was looking for; people who shared a love of literature, place and TS Eliot!
We only spent a few hours there that day, but I knew I had to go back, so we did, a year later.
It was then that Judith, one of the wardens of the house, which it turned out was a retreat center/B&B, asked if we would be interested in coming over and running the place. I was shocked because my dear husband had only six months before been joking about that very thing, saying he felt we might someday be running Ferrar House. I, of course, told him at the time he was crazy, but here we were, sitting at breakfast, being asked if this was something we might consider. Why did she ask us? I later found out it was because she asked everyone. She and her husband wanted to retire, being in their 70's and wanting to live out their remaining days puttering instead of rushing about.
This is the main problem; I am no longer a young woman, my hour-glass is a bit thinner on the top now. I have drifted through my life, going from one job to the next, one house to the next, but never landing on what it is I really wanted to do with myself. I thought, for a time, I wanted to be a clothing designer, then a costume designer and had brief stints with both. But after health time and money ran out, those endeavors ran out too. Then I was going to be an artist, then a children's book illustrator, and always, a writer. I could have been all of those things, as I do have talent in any of those areas, and this is not vanity, this is just a fact. I can draw rather well, paint nicely and can write decent poems and prose. But what I lack is drive. I get so overwhelmed by the fact that I don't have a clue on how to sell myself, that I just go back to drifting.
But, somehow I managed to make it to Europe and found myself at Little Gidding. Now, you don't come upon Little Gidding like you would come upon say, Stratford-Upon-Avon or any of the oh so cute village in the Cotswolds. In other words, you wouldn't be driving along the A14 and see a sign for Little Gidding and say, "Oh, honey, let's go there it sounds so cute." Little Gidding isn't even on most maps and for that matter, Great Gidding and Steeple Gidding, which comprise the Giddings proper, usually are not on the map either. No, Little Gidding is a destination, it is a place you travel to deliberately, as I did.
I am, if you have not already ascertained, am a T.S. Eliot geek. I love his poetry and I especially love The Four Quartets. So I decided to visit each of the quartets or poems. Burnt Norton is only accessible if you have an appointment, and Dry Salvages is in the sea off the coast of Massachuetts, and I have been to East Coker, which is where Eliot is buried, or at least is where his ashes are spread. It was lovely, quiet, and I read the poem there and felt much closer the words. But, aside from my ever patient husband, there was no one to talk to about it. It was a small, silent village that wasn't really very open.
But I really want to experience the chapel at Little Gidding. I had read in books on Eliot that it was near a village, and I pictured a small town with a church on the edge. I googled Michelin to find the directions to the Giddings and it gave me very concise, easy to follow twists and turns and roads that when we drove them, lead us deeper into to the Cambridgeshire countryside. The roads began to narrow, until the sign that pointed to Little Gidding itself was no more than a track.
We trundled down it to find a cluster of small duplexes and one large house, and to the side of that, the chapel. I told my husband not to mention TS Eliot because I thought the house and chapel where just, well, there as A house and A chapel. But once inside the house, we found that this was THE house and THE chapel, full of history, full of poetry and full of people and activity. We were invited to lunch, where we met the wardens of the house, which we learned was called Ferrar House, and the founder of the TS Eliot society in England, who just happened to be there that day. I was in my element, it was like I found exactly what I was looking for; people who shared a love of literature, place and TS Eliot!
We only spent a few hours there that day, but I knew I had to go back, so we did, a year later.
It was then that Judith, one of the wardens of the house, which it turned out was a retreat center/B&B, asked if we would be interested in coming over and running the place. I was shocked because my dear husband had only six months before been joking about that very thing, saying he felt we might someday be running Ferrar House. I, of course, told him at the time he was crazy, but here we were, sitting at breakfast, being asked if this was something we might consider. Why did she ask us? I later found out it was because she asked everyone. She and her husband wanted to retire, being in their 70's and wanting to live out their remaining days puttering instead of rushing about.
What a wonderous thing, to go from pilgram to particapant! What an opportunity to follow in TS Eliot's footsteps and live in England, what a chance to be a part of somethings so spiritual, yet so everyday. It would mean work, taking over and running the place would mean being always on duty, always on call. But think of the possibilities; a trip to Paris over the weekend, a trip to York to visit friends, Christmas in England, rural life, and all the tea I can drink.
But, none of this matters, for it gives me and excuse to come back and stay in England, even if for only a few weeks. A chance to come back over and spend some time helping out in the day to day activities of Ferrar house. And I realized that with this new found opportunity, I gained a reason d'etre. I see my writing beginning to flourish and my self-esteem poke its head up out of the quagmire.
Who knows if we will end up taking over the running of Ferrar House? At this point I realize that it doesn't matter, what matters is the relationships I have built on the way. In the short time I have been over there I have; had the chance to ring the chapel bells for prayer, pray where T.S Eliot prayed, serve endless pots of tea and biscuits to endless guests, each with a story to tell, cooked meals, washed dishes, attended poetry meetings, TS Eliot society meetings, met colorful locals and people with large hearts and kind words, felt at home in a far away place and picked up a rather dodgy British accent, which I lose whenever I go home. If we don't get to actually move to Little Gidding, at least I have had this experience in the interim. Who know what lies ahead. As Mr. Eliot said..."We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring,Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time."
But, none of this matters, for it gives me and excuse to come back and stay in England, even if for only a few weeks. A chance to come back over and spend some time helping out in the day to day activities of Ferrar house. And I realized that with this new found opportunity, I gained a reason d'etre. I see my writing beginning to flourish and my self-esteem poke its head up out of the quagmire.
Who knows if we will end up taking over the running of Ferrar House? At this point I realize that it doesn't matter, what matters is the relationships I have built on the way. In the short time I have been over there I have; had the chance to ring the chapel bells for prayer, pray where T.S Eliot prayed, serve endless pots of tea and biscuits to endless guests, each with a story to tell, cooked meals, washed dishes, attended poetry meetings, TS Eliot society meetings, met colorful locals and people with large hearts and kind words, felt at home in a far away place and picked up a rather dodgy British accent, which I lose whenever I go home. If we don't get to actually move to Little Gidding, at least I have had this experience in the interim. Who know what lies ahead. As Mr. Eliot said..."We shall not cease from exploration, And the end of all our exploring,Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time."
1 comment:
I've been reading your blog, and have been checking periodically for updates. I'm very sorry I didn't post a response sooner so you'd know your words were not going out into a void (there are probably others reading it, too, who, like me haven't had the time to leave a comment). I was very glad to see this post, and read it with much interest. This is, indeed, a wonderful opportunity for you. I'm also glad to read that you feel your writing is beginning to take off. I've always felt, among your gifts, that that was the very best of all you did. Of course that's my own personal humble opinion, but there it is.
I've got your blog bookmarked, and look forward to reading more entries. I hope you continue to write about your experiences in England, and your thoughts and feelings about it.
Ganbatte! And have a cuppa tea for me. I share that particular affinity with you. ^_^
--your sis, Kathleen
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