Henry Miller*
(December 26, 1892 — June 7, 1980)
Yesterday marked the death forty years ago of one of my literary and philosophical heroes, Henry Miller. To this day, however, Miller's books remain among my favorites, and many still line the bookshelves in my office: The Air-conditioned Nightmare, Reflections, Stand Still Like the Hummingbird, The Books of My Life, Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch, The Wisdom of the Heart, Henry Miller on Writing, and On Turning Eighty.
When I first began reading Miller in the sixties, I discovered a man who had the courage to chart his own course in life and go against the grain if necessary to live with integrity. He was unfailingly honest and open in his values, philosophy, and actions; he detested hypocrisy in all of its wretched forms; and he was madly in love with life itself. These traits remained with Miller throughout his life, leading him to write the following summation of his philosophy and experience in The Books in My Life:
What were the subjects which formed my style, my character, my approach to life. Broadly these: The love of life itself, the pursuit of truth, wisdom and understanding, mystery, the power of language, the antiquity and glory of man, eternality, the purpose of existence, the oneness of everything, self-liberation, the brotherhood of man, the meaning of love, the relation of sex to love, the enjoyment of sex, humor, oddities, and eccentricities in all life's aspects, travel, adventure, discovery, prophecy, magic (white and black), art, games, confessions, revelations, mysticism, more particularly the mystics themselves, the varieties of faith and worship, the marvelous in all realms and under all aspects, for there is only the marvelous and nothing but the marvelous.
In remembrance of Miller, I would like to share a few quotes that continue to resonate with me. Perhaps they will resonate with others as well.
On Acceptance —
Life, as we all know, is conflict, and man, being part of life, is himself and expression of conflict. If he recognizes the fact and accepts it, he is apt, despite the conflict, to know peace and to enjoy it. But to arrive at this end, which is only a beginning (for we haven't begun to live yet!), man has got to learn the doctrine of acceptance, that it, of unconditional surrender, which is love.
The Wisdom of the Heart
This doctrine of acceptance, the most difficult yet simple of all the radical ideas an has proposed to himself, embodies the understanding that the world is made up of conflicting members in all stages of evolution and devolution, that good and evil co-exist even though the one be but the shadow of the other, and that the world, for all its ills and shortcomings, was made for our enjoyment.
Stand Still Like a Hummingbird
On Solitude —
Only when we are truly alone does the fullness and richness of life reveal itself to us.
Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch
On Trust —
The key word is trust. Trust that everything that happens in life, even those experiences that cause pain, will serve to better you in the end. It's easy to lose the inner vision, the greater truths, in the face of tragedy. There really is no such thing as suffering simply for the sake of suffering. Along with developing a basic trust in the rhyme and reason of life itself, I advise you to trust your intuition. It is a far better guide in the long run than your intellect.
Reflections
On Harmony with Life —
When God answers Job cosmologically it is to remind man that he is only a part of creation, that it is his duty to put himself in accord with it or perish. When man puts his head out of the stream of life he becomes self-conscious. And with self-consciousness comes arrest, fixation, symbolized so vividly by the myth of Narcissus.
The Books of My Life
On Destiny —
Every man has his own destiny: The only imperative is to follow it, to accept it, no matter where it leads him.
The Wisdom of the Heart
On Individuality —
Let a man believe in himself and he will find a way to exist despite the barriers and traditions which hem him in.
Stand Still Like a Hummingbird
On Understanding —
Understanding is not a piercing of the mystery, but an acceptance of it, a living blissfully with it, in it, through it and by it.
The Wisdom of the Heart
On the Miraculous —
When you are convinced that all the exits are blocked, either you take to believing in miracles or you stand still like the hummingbird. The miracle is that the honey is always there, right under your nose, only you were too busy searching elsewhere to realize it. The worst is not death but being blind, blind to the fact that everything about life is in the nature of the miraculous.
Stand Still Like the Hummingbird
On Seeing Properly —
One's destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.
Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch
On Happiness —
Man craves happiness here on earth, not fulfillment, not emancipation. Are they utterly deluded, then, in seeking happiness? No, happiness is desirable, but it is a by-product, the result of a way of life, not a goal which is forever beyond one's grasp. Happiness is achieved en route. And if it be ephemeral, as most men believe, it can also give way, not to anxiety or despair, but to a joyousness which is serene and lasting. To make happiness the goal is to kill it in advance. If one must have a goal, which is questionable, why not self-realization?
Stand Still Like a Hummingbird
On Aging with Gratitude, Forgiveness, and Love —
If at eighty you're not a cripple or an invalid, if you have your health, if you still enjoy a good walk, a good meal (with all the trimmings), if you can sleep without first taking a pill, if birds and flowers, mountains and sea still inspire you, you are a most fortunate individual and you should get down on your knees morning and night and thank the good Lord for his savin' and keeping' power. If you are young in years but already weary in spirit, already on the way to becoming an automaton, it may do you good to say to your boss — under your breath, of course — "Fuck you, Jack! You don't own me!" . . . If you can fall in love again and again, if you can forgive your parents for the crime of bringing you into the world, if you are content to get nowhere, just take each day as it comes, if you can forgive as well as forget, if you can keep from growing sour, surly, bitter and cynical, man you've got it half licked."
On Turning Eighty
True to his values, Henry Miller's motto was "always merry and bright." Spend a little time with Miller and you are likely to feel, as I do, that his merriment can be contagious.
*Header Photo: I have not been able to determine the creator of this image of Henry Miller, but I believe it to be in the Public Domain at this point.
*Header Photo: I have not been able to determine the creator of this image of Henry Miller, but I believe it to be in the Public Domain at this point.
I'm glad you like Henry Miller too George. I was blown away by his Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymous Bosch, that must have been in the seventies, and I remember thinking I would so much like to write like him. After a while I realised that I had to find my own way to write. I remember in about 1980 or so finding his book of essays Stand Still like the Hummingbird in a bookshop in Richmond, Virginia I think it was called the Coach House and I was so pleased to find that as it wasn't in the bookshops in the UK. That was long before the internet where you can so easily find books, whichever country they are published in. Still, there is nothing like browsing through bookshops and I'm looking forward to bookshops opening again.
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DeleteSo glad this posting resonated with you, Morelle. As I read about your excitement in finding a copy of Stand Still Like a Hummingbird in Richmond in the early eighties, I recalled how difficult it was to get access to any of Miller's writings when I was attending the University of Tennessee in the early sixties. I worked my way through college as an assistant in the Special Collections division of the UT Library, which, among other things, maintained tight control over Miller's books, which were widely viewed at the time as too sexually explicit. If a student wanted to read a Miller book, he or she was required to enter the Special Collections room, have the book retrieved from a locked cabinet, and take the book to a table where it could be read under supervision. Such procedures were indicative of the extreme puritanical influence which still gripped the nation at that time. I began reading Miller during this period, and I've never stopped. His views continue to seem both fresh and inspirational. In the early seventies, I spent a month alone in Greece, during which time I read a great deal of both Miller and Lawrence Durrell. I remember reading The Collosus of Maroussi on the island of Poros, where Miller had lived for a while. As I recall, the book was inspired by Miller's experience on Poros. I could be wrong on Poros, but that's the way I remember it after almost fifty years. (I posted my initial reply to your comment earlier, but deleted it when I discovered that several distractions had led me to make several typographical errors. This is the corrected version.)
DeleteImagine reading a book in those conditions! Yes 'extreme puritanism' as you say. In about 1961 I think, there was an avant-garde bookshop just a few metres away from my school and apparently an outraged lady bought a copy of DH Lawrence's Lady Chatterly's Lover and then proceeded to burn it in front of the shop. Yes I also read the Colossus of Maroussi a long time ago. I'm fascinated by the month you spent in Greece, maybe you could blog about that sometime?
ReplyDeleteThanks for the additional comment, Morelle. I'm still dragging up memories of the Greece trip. In addition to reading Miller and Lawrence on that trip, I read John Fowles' "The Magus," most of which is set is Greece, as well as "The French Lieutenant's Woman." I also read the Kazantzakis classic, "Zorba the Greek." I still have that marked-up paperback on my bookshelves. While in Heraklion, Crete, I went to the Kazantzakis grave outside of the city (the clerics forbade his burial within the city). I was very moved by his epitaph, which has remained imprinted on my soul for almost half a century: "I hope for nothing. I fear nothing. I am free."
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