Yes, I have often thought of the resemblance between our faces. I had not associated Genet with it, not knowing what he looks like. I suppose the person I most resemble, usually, is Picasso. That’s what everybody says. Still I think it is a distinction to look like Picasso, Henry Miller, and Genet all at once. Pretty comprehensive. It seems to imply some kind of responsibility. (Merton to Miller, Aug 16 1964)
I am in the middle of The Wisdom of the Heart and it is you at your best… As I say I am going along with you all the way with The Wisdom of the Heart. (Merton to Miller, Aug 7 1962)
I cannot let your hummingbird—Stand Still like the Hummingbird—get away without a resounding shout of approval. Merton to Miller, June 22 1964)
Henry Miller initiated a correspondence with Thomas Merton in the early 1960s, and Merton’s first letter to Miller (July 9 1962) is a response to Miller. Miller lived in the Big Sur area of California from 1944-1962, and his aptly descriptive novel of his 18 years in the area, Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymous Bosch (1957) certainly put Big Sur on the artistic and countercultural map. Miller did, in many ways, anticipate the Beat and Counter Cultural generation and Big Sur became, for most, a metaphor and portal into the ethos of the 1960s.
I have a DVD collector’s item of sorts of Big Sur: Big Sur: The Way It Was is a 60 minute historic overview of Big Sur culture up to and including the early 1960s. The subtitle tells it all—“The Way It Was”. The film-DVD is a candid retrospective on Big Sur by those who settled the land and defined the place before the emergence of the Counter Culture in the mid-late 1960s. There are lengthy interviews with Henry Miller and many of those who lived in Big Sur from the 1940s-1960s. The historic tour makes it abundantly clear that there was a definite continuity (and discontinuity) between Big Sur culture from the 1940s-1960s and the 1960s and afterwards. The prominent role of Henry Miller and many other artists (so delightfully described in Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymous Bosch), Nepenthe Restaurant (began in 1949)-Phoenix (opened in 1964), the Fassett family, including the brilliant work of Kaffe Fassett, Big Sur Inn and the Deetjen line and lineage are but part of the artistic and political drama of the Big Sur ethos. There can be no doubt, though, that Big Sur culture had a decided Counter Culture heritage grounded in land, ecology, spiritualty and a sort of constant questioning of the Willy Loman dream of corporate success—significantly, the southern end of Big Sur is dominated by the Hearst home and castle---a graphic antithesis to Big Sur life and living.
Thomas Merton and Henry Miller shared the questioning attitude to post-WW II triumphalism. Both men realized something was sorely amiss in both the soul and society of the time. The monastic way that Merton turned to was, as a metaphor in many ways, counter cultural. Big Sur and Gethsemani had more in common than many, at first glance, might realize. This meant Miller and Merton, when rightly understood, had many an affinity. There was, of course, the image of Miller as a lewd and crude writer of sexual peccadilloes that led to most of his earlier books being censured and banned from the USA. But, such an approach to and read Miller was to seriously misread him. The Rosy Crucifixion (1949-1959) spelled out the nature of Miller’s layered journey in a thoughtful and compelling manner. Miller was a generation older than Merton (born in 1891), but by the early 1960s, they had much in common.
The publication of Miller’s The Wisdom of the Heart: Henry Miller on the Art of Living in 1941 spoke to the core of Merton as did other writings of Miller. The Wisdom of the Heart and Merton’s The Wisdom of the Desert (1960) had much in common and both men realized their deeper longings and affinities. Merton was so taken by Miller’s The Wisdom of the Heart that, true to Merton’s enthusiastic manner, he waxed positive about the book. It was not exactly wise, in the 1960s, for a Roman Catholic monk, to be praising Henry Miller, but Merton saw, all too clearly, the insights and depths of Miller’s probes that many more religious and cultural establishment types missed. It was to Merton’s credit that in his first letter to Miller (July 9 1962) he waxes positive about Miller’s Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch and The Colossus of Maroussi (which Merton thought “a tremendous and important book”). Merton mentioned, in this initial letter to Miller, the significance of the writers, Jean Giono and Joseph Delteil. The fact that Merton had French roots, and Provence in France was close to Merton’s heart and research, meant that Giono and Delteil held his attention. Merton also noted that both he and Miller shared the same fate of having their books banned and censured. Merton asked Miller if he knew the French Gandhian Franciscan, Fr. Herve Chaigne. Merton also mentioned that he was also interested in Provence, given the fact he was doing research on early monasticism in the area, particularly in Lerins and the innovative work of Cassiodorus. I suspect Miller did not know much about patristic monasticism in the area of Provence.
Merton’s next letter to Miller (August 7 1962) returned to Delteil and his biography of Francis of Assisi—Merton was convinced such a read of Francis was much needed. Merton mentioned his respect for the South American poets, Cesar Vallejo and Alfonso Cortes, then he returned to Delteil yet again. Merton turned to Miller again, lauding The Wisdom of the Heart, The Time of the Assassins and The Colossus of Maroussi. The Wisdom of the Heart had, in many ways, many an affinity with Merton’s The Wisdom of the Desert which had been published in 1960. There can be little doubt that Miller and Merton had an affinity with contemplative wisdom—Merton from the monastery at Gethsemani, Miller from his contemplative perch in Big Sur. Both men were also much at odds with the folly of much of post WW II America which Merton, in the letter to Miller, referred to as the multiple idols of the time. Merton brought his letter to Miller to a close by acknowledging the role Thoreau and Emily Dickinson played in his becoming an American citizen---Emerson is given a nod, also. Miller seems to have suggested that Merton reminded him of the “transcendentalists” and there could be no doubt Merton had some leanings in their direction.
Merton sent two short letters to Miller in August 1962 and Spring 1963. “Reading your magnificent essay on Raimu” (significant French actor)—Merton then noted some poignant insights by Ramu on the violent nature of American politics and civilization. Merton then recommended Lax (another contemplative hermit of sorts) to Miller and Miller’s two postcards about Merton’s The Thomas Merton Reader.
It seems Miller had been sending Merton a variety of cards, and May 1963, Merton sent Miller a longer letter acknowledging the many gifts of sorts. Merton mentioned he had been reading Perle’s biography of Miller, My Friend, Henry Miller: An Intimate Biography. Merton vacillated in the latter between a sort of despair with the times he was living in (in comparison to the pre-WWI years that Miller lived in) and a sort of hope that the counter culture was bringing into being. Merton made it clear that his vocation was as a monk and although rumors did float about regarding his leaving the Cistercians, such a move ran contrary to his vocation. Merton mentioned that he’d like to read Tropic of Cancer and Tropic of Capricorn, but he suggested he would get the books privately rather than Miller sending him copies (given the nature of Miller’s reputation and monastic censorship). Merton mentioned Lax again, his life in Greece and why many of his poems might not be well received and read. There was many an obvious affinity between the wisdom seeking contemplative ways of Lax, Merton and Miller.
Merton sent another letter to Miller on June 22 1964. Just as Merton waxed enthusiastic about Miller’s The Wisdom of the Heart, he was equally if not more so, charmed by Miller’s recently published book, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird (1962)—there is a sense in which the distilled and congealed contemplative wisdom of Miller was insightfully articulated in these two books and Merton understood, only too well, the deeper Christian depths in Miller’s vision. “I resound to everything you say, Europe, Zen, Thoreau, and your real basic Christian spirit which I wish a few Christians shared”—Stand Still Lie the Hummingbird is a form of literary contemplative wisdom that Merton could easily say a hearty amen to even though most missed this depth in Miller. Merton also mentioned in this letter his recent meeting with D.T. Suzuki and the significance of Kenneth Patchen. Merton sent Miller a photo of himself with Miguel Grinberg—Miller suggested to Merton in a letter (July 4 1964) that “you too have a look of an ex-convict, of one who has been through hell and I think bear the traces of it”. Needless to say, the metaphor of convict signified how, in many ways, Merton, Miller, genet and Grinberg dared to challenge the ethos of their time and were outlaws, of sorts, for doing so.
Merton’s final letter to Miller was written August 16 1964. It is in this last letter that Merton reflects on the fact “our faces” have much resemblance. It is in this similarity in their faces that much is said. Both men were on the edge and margins of society—tried and found wanting. Both men had unique and distinct wisdom callings and both attempted to live a more contemplative journey—Miller at Big Sur and Merton at Gethsemani. Merton’s book on Gandhi was soon to go to press and his nod to Camus would have warmed Miller’s heart.
The fact that Merton could say, when replying to Miller, “I have often thought of the resemblance between our faces” does need to be duly noted. There was so much between Merton and Miller that was shared and their faces were but a portal into such affinities. The fact that Miller and Merton were often maligned, caricatured and misunderstood speaks much about a shallow reaction to the sages, prophets and saints of the time. The way of contemplative wisdom that Miller and Merton were attempting to recover was a counter cultural vocation that, in many ways, set them against the weltgeist of their time and made them elders and abbas of the Beats of the 1960s.
Ron Dart
Today, as yesterday and tomorrow
The night sleep was broken for my need of You
Is greater than for rest
As I contemplate the beauty of your ways
And my heart drums away a synchopathic rythm
As You reach out for me and I reach out for You
Such deep yearning, longing,
As my mind no longer understands
What’s going on
And my heart of hearts dispossesses itself of I
Shocked by the measure of your love
For me for all
To be still
To wait for You
There is neither day nor night
Only You
Today is the 50th anniversary
Of Yours and mine
Thomas
As he also enters into this
Between You and I
I love him also for we would have walked
Together through this narrowest path
Of love for You and them
The broken, shamed, abandoned
Who deep within also
Hearts drum a synchopathic rythm
A cry for and of love
In which the soul fails to grasp what’s going on
And simply collapses in your presence
And dies away in your absence
Please, please
It’s all we’ve got
My kindred friend never met yet known
It is I and you
One mind and heart
Back in 1967
Had I met you
And then lost you
I would have died of sorrow
For you and I are not sides of a singularity
But a one-sided expression
Feeling, thinking, being
Could I have gone into your Dark Night?
I am in likewise
I would have
For you, I would have
And leave you to drum your synchopathic heart and soul
Which senses both Your light, Oh God
And our stupid darkness
Is it wrong to be a child?
For babies cry in anguish
And likewise long to experience love
Self-emptying love in best of cases
Where are you, Thomas?
If lost in a desert I will find you
Take you up between my arms and heart
To bring you home
That I wish for me
But knowing you
Just as Simone Weil
You prefer deserts and fringes
Where the human heart cries out
For self-emptied love expressions
Desert Father
Desert Brother, Friend, and Comfort
Let me set my tent on the horizon of your Tent
Reflection: had my father not hated my decision to follow You, and had I been stronger of heart, soul, and limbs, I would have crawled to Gethsemani. Much time has passed. The desert is my inner home, in which night is day and day is night and my heart of hearts drums in longing...
Aquilino Gonzalez-Canovas
Posted by: Aquilino Gonzalez-Canovas | December 29, 2018 at 06:09 AM