On Learning Something, Finally

"Poetry is as necessary to comprehension as science. It is impossible to live without reverence as it is without joy."

---from "The Outermost House: A Year of Life on the Great Beach of Cape Cod" by Henry Beston

Yet again, I come to insight as if by accident. I was lying in bed, reading and trying to uncoil, when I read the above passage. It always surprises and delights me. The Outermost House is a permanent resident in my top five or so favorite books. I first had the pleasure of reading it nearly ten years ago. First published in 1928, I had the good fortune to stumble across a second edition copy in an antique bookstore on Cape Cod. It was published in 1933 and was in very good condition.* I had been wanting it for a long time. I am glad I found it.

Henry Beston was a young man at the time, with the luxury of being able to take a year off, in essence, during which he had a small house built. It was, as the title says, on the beach on Cape Cod. Literally. I am contemplating recreating the plan of it, for myself, maybe as a small vacation cottage somewhere. The title and the thing itself appealed greatly to the architect that I am.

It was the writing that really piqued my interest. It is not the most polished style, and it flirts with being overwrought at times (hmm...sound familiar?) but it was written with enthusiasm and genuine delight in the natural world. He has a keen eye for observation. A prime example is his chapter "The Headlong Wave", in which he attempts to describe the infinite variations of waves hitting the shore. Great, great stuff, and it made me envious and wistful. The sound, the shape, the color of waves...makes me want to be there, to live that life.

Ultimately, I believe that is why I read this book at least once a year, ever since I first bought it so long ago. It speaks of slow time and understanding a place. He describes a life that I dream of having: a small, tidy place of my own, in a place where I feel connected to the earth, with the luxury of near uninterrupted contemplation and rumination.

That luxury means to me: to observe the world around me, to engage in the fullness of life, and translate that into the written word. It is in that fashion that I could truly make my own poetry. I could learn, as I have been struggling to do for so long, to live in reverence and with joy. I know this now. I will find my outermost house in which to live the measure of my days.

Tell me, dear ones, where is your outermost house?

Photo credit and a short history can be found HERE.

*It was also considerably lower in price than the first edition in the same store. At the time, I could not afford it, and it sure did make my brain hurt to pass it up. Still, the second edition I bought is marvelous. It has pride of place on my bookshelf. I dig it.