November 4, 2019

Where is the blessedness I knew (William Cowper (1731–1800)).

Sunday, November 3. 11.15 am: Morning Prayer. I like the poet and hymnist William Cowper, whose hymn ‘Oh for a Closer Walk with God‘ we sang. He was a non-standard Christian, one who’d been institutionalised for insanity, and suffered bouts of severe depression and profound loss of faith throughout his life. At one time, Cowper believed that he was eternally damned. He was also a fervent abolitionist. Martin Luther King Jr quoted from Cowper’s writings in his own political campaign against racial injustice.

This autobiographical hymn is Cowper’s lament for the absence of God in his life as a felt presence. The lyric describes a process of self-searching and repentance, as he tries to identify those sins, past and present, that were the reason for this sense of estrangement. But I do wonder whether Cowper’s psychological, rather than his spiritual, condition was more often the underlying cause of such experiences. Feelings are intimately linked, and responsive, to our mental health. If the latter is compromised, then, so too are our affections and apprehension. Thus, we may stand in a pitch-black room unable to appreciate that God is also there with us, close by.

1.30 pm: Run Paint Run Run. I ran, with Captain Beefheart’s anthem pounding in my cans, down to the Promenade and back. I’d left off exercising in this way for far too long; reasonable weather hadn’t coincided with the times that I had to do it. ‘I refuse to kick the bar; never have, never will!’ (John! You’re such a wilful and irrational dingbat, sometimes.’):

Suffering from chronic ME doesn’t mean that I can’t aim to be ‘fit’. (The word is relative in the context of this condition.) I know my limit. But I’m also aware that the immune system needs challenging.

Monday. November 4. 7.45 am: A communion. 8.30 am: The weekend’s email and their implication for my appointments diary were addressed. 10.00 am: I’d not got to the end of the second pass over my composition descriptors by the close of Saturday. I returned to the task. Some parts still read rather inelegantly.

11.45 am: I bounced to the School for an informal meeting the photographer Robert Greetham. We are more or less the same age, alumni of the, then, Visual Art Department, University College of Wales, Aberystwyth, and share a bedrock of values of about art and teaching. Our experience of life, in other ways, is very different; which is why friendships of this type retain a certain ‘zip’. What makes us each tick is still a matter of curiosity on both sides. I didn’t take a photograph for this dairy on this occasion. But I remember our lunch together at Figaro’s in this manner:

1.30 pm: Back in the study chair and on to the final descriptor. 2.00 pm: Back to the top of the page for the third pass.

I was astonished how many errors I’d overlooked in the previous two passes. Which is why good copyeditors and proofreaders are worth their weight in gold. 4.00 pm: Back to the top of the page for the slow fourth pass. The late afternoon rain dribbled down the skylight’s pane:

5.20 pm: The dinner-preparation interval. The family evening meal has been early ever since the children were babies. They had had to be fed, read to, and dispatched to bed by 7.00 pm. In their absence, we’ve maintained the timetable. Which means that I can dispatch myself back to work by 7.30 pm each weekday.

7.30 pm: I undertook the final edit of the composition descriptors.

Previous Post
November 2, 2019
Next Post
November 5, 2019

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Fill out this field
Fill out this field
Please enter a valid email address.