Fiction
‘Take Off Your Shoes – You’re Always on Holy Ground’
In her recent book Enchantment, Katherine May tells us that the sublime hides not necessarily in distant landscapes, faraway places, nor in grand things, but in the beauty of all that is around us.
The luminous, the awe, the enchantment is here where we stand, where we sit, where we walk, where we swim. We just have to pay deliberate attention to it. Hierophany – the revelation of the sacred – May tells us: ‘is something we bring to everyday things, rather than something given to us.’
So, I take the morning out from the offer of a coffee with the girls from our swimming group to sit in the everyday quiet splendour of my little back garden. A northerly breeze swirls through neighbouring gums, the gentle autumn sun thaws my body of the remaining chill from the morning sea, and the local magpies sing. This is magic. Nature in its simple beauty, playing a sweet melody. Giving me time for restoration after a busy fortnight.
I started reading May’s Enchantment after having immersed myself in her book Wintering and had to wonder if it was going to be similar. The similarities are there alright, but they’re about the books being May’s internal journey, her process of recovery, restoration, healing, and the quest for meaning, understanding and what matters in her life.
But there are many differences. Wintering is about May’s retreat from the world, from her work-life for a time, from her community – to restore the inner balance and health she lost through constantly giving. Through Enchantment however, May’s internal journey take her more outward. In her quest to reclaim herself, she steps into the world outside herself, and uses the elements of earth, water, fire, and air to write a poignant and meaningful story about her own becoming.
To come out of the dullness of who she finds she has become, May walks the forest and the bush (and feels the holy ground beneath her feet), climbs hills, and treads the beach around her. In an effort to persuade herself back into her beloved sea that she loses touch with because of her Meniere’s disease (and to undertake new things), she rekindles childhood memories and experiences that taught her the freedom and wonder of play. She also writes about those she loves and learns from. The wonderous, and spirited Bertie (her son who grows branches in his head), her grandfather who taught her to love the sea and the ever sensible and reliable H (her husband).
Hierophany – the revelation of the sacred – May tells us: ‘is something we bring to everyday things, rather than something given to us.’
I love May’s writing style. She is detailed and reflective, noticing the minute and paying attention to herself in her world, to her relationships and what is going on within and around her. She is humble in her being; she lets herself feel and know her own smallness and is honest about her shortcomings. She challenges herself to step forward while giving herself permission not to rush.
As a writer May also lets us in on her struggle to read – a mortal sin for the writer who surely must read – and her difficulty to acknowledge and develop her art and skill with words. But an artist she is, with an ability to create the exquisite of the everyday; in the things around us that go un-noticed when we move too fast.
I highly recommend both Enchantment and Wintering for those who think they need to take a breath and slow down.
