painting, waiting and w.h. auden...

All this week I have been doing painting and repairs on our home. After the crew from Brooklyn left on Sunday, I have been at work keeping our old house in working order: fixing porch steps, painting cracking exterior paint, changing the look of bathrooms to better fit our lives in 2019. Next week, there's a day of deck repair to get into, too. 

I find that there is something meditative about painting - especially rooms requiring multiple coats of paint - because beyond the body's movement of physically applying stroke after stroke of color, there is so much waiting: waiting for the paint to be mixed, waiting for the paint to dry, waiting before applying additional coats, waiting before resetting and cleaning the room. 

While sitting in the midst of this waiting, I came upon a poem by W.H. Auden called, "The More Loving One." This Englishman become US citizen who loved his winters in NYC, left Christianity at 15 but returned to the faith as an adult - mostly because of Niebuhr, Kierkegaard and the insights of the Inklings and Charles Williams in particular. During the 60's and early 70's, Auden left his home in Brooklyn Heights to dwell among the joys of life on St. Marks Place in the East Village. Like many unschooled in the finer arts, I first heard Auden in the movie, Four Weddings and a Funeral, where "Funeral Blues" shaped the eulogy of a grieving man for his beloved. "The More Loving One" is less dramatic, to be sure, but there is a comforting tenderness in its humility. 

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

I hear something of the Via Positiva and Via Negativa in this wee poem. It rings true to me - especially when he confesses: "Were all the stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky and feel its total dark sublime, thought this might take me a little time." A little time, indeed. Self-deprecating humor is a sign of spiritual integrity in my book - and Auden gets that just right. So thank you, dear W.H., you have opened my heart this day.