G.M. Hopkins S.J. (1848-1889) wrote the following poem, probably in the summer of 1885 (R.B. Martin, Gerard Manley Hopkins, 1992, p.382)
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst’s all-in-all in all a world of wet.
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
‘s not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather — as skies
Between pie mountains — lights a lovely mile.
I will not look at the rhyming and art of word placement, suffice to say, it is an exquisitely planned sonnet. Several studies have been made of this poem, explaining those parts which are less clear, and relating its contents the depression Hopkins was experiencing in Dublin. I wish to address a slightly different issue: what to do when faced with such sadness? That is, I wish to consider the contents of this poetic page of spiritual diary.
First, the origin of Hopkins advice to himself in his near-despair: he was a Jesuit, and Catherine Phillips, in her edition of Hopkins’ poetry for Oxford World Classics, excerpts this from St Ignatius Loyola’s Spiritual Exercises: “Let him who is in desolation strive to remain in patience, which is the virtue contrary to the troubles which harass him; and let him think that he will shortly be consoled, making diligent effort against the desolation …” (Gerard Manley Hopkins: The Major Works, p.376)
The idea is good, but how to achieve it? It says what to do, but not how to do it (Miraculous, 304)
I think the catalytic concept which is missing from all this is “impartiality.” The thing is not so much to have pity on, or be kind to myself, but to be impartial to myself. The problem with being soft on myself is that the depression is, I suggest, a function of the conflict between within ourselves between two impulses: ordinary self-love and ordinary self-hate. As long as all we have is the conflict between these two, we will never be free of the swinging pendulum.
In almost perfect poetry, what Hopkins recommends is that one of the two forces triumph over the other. That is understandable. In the struggle between “joy” (to use his word) and “tormenting,” who would not seek wish for the victory of joy? But that is the trap, that is why even someone as insightful as Hopkins could not come free of the struggle. He saw that his mind was ceaselessly feeding these low thoughts to him: that was quite deep. But he neither possessed the means to understand that the solution is to introduce the third force in my presence, and not to heighten the joy, as it were. To “cheer myself up” does little enduring good; in fact, it may make matters worse, because it lengthens the swing of the pendulum. This is what happens if a person seeks relief in substances like alcohol and drugs, spending money on creature comforts, and indulging appetites and lusts.
Rather, what is needed is the conscious introduction of a third force, to produce a new dynamic balance which resolves the struggle by being above it. As Gurdjieff said:
Man, in the normal state natural to him, is taken as a duality. He consists entirely of dualities or ‘pairs of opposites.’ All man’s sensations, impressions, feelings, thoughts, are divided into positive and negative, useful and harmful, necessary and unnecessary, good and bad, pleasant and unpleasant. The work of centres proceeds under the sign of this division. Thoughts oppose feelings. Moving impulses oppose instinctive craving for quiet. This is the duality in which proceed all the perceptions, all the reactions, the whole life of man. Any man who observes himself, however little, can see this duality in himself. (Miraculous, 281)
The way out is to introduce the third force:
When self-deceit is destroyed and a man begins to see the difference between the mechanical and the conscious in himself, there begins a struggle for the realisation of consciousness in life and for the subordination of the mechanical to the conscious. For this purpose a man begins with endeavours to set a definite decision, coming from conscious motives, against mechanical processes proceeding according to the laws of duality. The creation of a permanent third principle is for man the transformation of the duality into the trinity. (Miraculous, 282)
Here, I suggest, the third force is the impartial understanding that the state in which I find myself is due to mechanical factors beyond my control. And that needs my presence, being a concomitant of real presence.
Then, note how Hopkins speaks of his “self” and his “soul.” If I identify my self with this suffering, I have little chance of freeing myself from it, because my wrong thought will chain me, so to speak, to these manifestations. I need to see that they are not real I, but rather a steel armour in which I am encased.
There is a further matter: the force of my higher feeling is absorbed in these turning thoughts and emotional turmoil. If I can preserve my feeling energy in a quiet place, I may be able to collect it, and when it forms a certain reservoir, begin to feel the influence of conscience. I would suggest that when I am impartial to myself, caught neither by self-hatred or self-love, I can make the effort to send the energy which is being summoned by this struggle throughout the body for the purpose of digesting it for my being – specifically, to feed my feeling. Then, with that effort, there is a possibility that conscience can be present to tell me the nature of my present state, my present feelings. Conscience does not, as it were, adjudicate on what happened in the past (at least not directly), but rather inform me as to my present state, including there my present state as it relates to the past.
To look at this from another perspective, something in us believes in these self-loving and self-hating dogs. It relishes their arguments. It likes to go back over the past and ask: do I do right, did I do wrong? But this is to doom myself to endless introspection; it is not the way to real I. The question of right and wrong is one of conscience, and conscience just sees, it knows without any argument. Rather than get down into the never-ending argument, “should I adore or despise myself, or both?”, I wish to be impartial to my manifestations; and then, conscience can appear in a form corresponding to my state (if you can intuit what I mean – it is beyond words).
This, I think, is the solution to Hopkins’ great despair: be impartial to it, objective to my own situation, and see that the issue is really how the dogs use the feeling-energy I need for my own development. That impartiality will allow me to free whatever feeling of self I have from these impulses, and to be more open to the influence of conscience, and hence begin to open to the appearance of real I.