Saturday Memory

October 12, 2024

While sorting through a box of stuff, I came across a small, 3.5-inch by 5.5-inch plaid covered notebook that I had journaled in on my trip to Scotland in 1992. That year, I was the United States representative to the Arts Festival held yearly at Dunvegan Castle on the Isle of Skye. I had been invited by John MacLeod, the Chief of Clan MacLeod. During my week-long stay at the castle, I got to know John, Bani Shorter (Jungian analyst from Edinburgh), and Norman MacCaig, one of my favorite poets, as well as distinguished others.  The festival featured singing (including John MacLeod, a professional-level opera singer), piano recitals, presentations of instruments and discussions, several sessions of bagpiping, original music compositions (Marc Yeats), and talks.

Bani Shorter presented “The Thread of the Story: The Fairy Flag.” I presented two talks: “Writing from the Inside of the Inside,” and “The Cost of Poetry and the Price of its Loss.” The year before, the US representative was Helen Vendler, perhaps best known as the poetry editor of the New Yorker, and one of the most honored literary critics. She was an English professor at Harvard and known for her emphasis on “close reading.” I was honored to represent the US, but I was daunted by following Helen Vendler.

I think scared would be more accurate. For as much as I felt it necessary to have prepared and written talks for this august event, I could not write. I was totally stopped. Some insistent inner voice said, “No! Spontaneous talks they will be.” And so, they were. I felt inspired by the feelings generated in experiencing such a gathering of creative people. What I said was not recorded and I barely have any memory of it. I can say that what came out of me was not some well-honed conscious material, but more like the outpouring of a deep lava. I was basically speaking out what I heard from somewhere deep inside. I am reminded now of what Miles Davis said: “Man, you don’t play what you know, you play what you hear.” And too, what Robert Olen Butler says: “Art does not come from ideas. Art does not come from the mind. Art comes from the place where you dream. Art comes from your unconscious; it comes from the white-hot center of you.”

I would like to re-create those talks, but I’m not sure it is possible.

Russ