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Correspondence from Karl Germer to Phyllis Seckler
Hampton N.J.
November 25, 1952
Dear Phyllis,
Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the Law.
Your poems, mailed November 1, came yesterday. They were a revelation in many respects. They are fine, genuine, lofty. They show a great depth of feeling, they come from deep down in the well.
Did you want me to criticize? Of course, you are an artist soul, so I must have written this to you or Jane [Jane Wolfe] long before. As I can hardly be called an artist myself, with little knowledge of literature, especially in English, I can only make some general remarks.
It seems to me that there is development: the form, rhythm, quality of rime varies, or has improved. The sentiment is always clean and pure, but you do not have attained mastery in riming, rhythm, wealth of vocabulary, (that is number of words, often strange, short words not in ordinary use). How to improve this? I don't know. You surely know the classics in the English language? I might say that I know of A.C.: he knew all English poetry almost by heart; he studied the established meters and science and rules of poetry, set up by the ancient Greeks and modern writers. You have got to know the various "feet" (dactyl, lambus, trochee, etc. etc.) and master them. Etc. etc. etc. Otherwise your poems, however beautiful, cannot become gems. Sometimes I notice that you want to express something almost inexpressible, and appear to fail. To express subtle, difficult thoughts or conceptions, in language is one of the hardest lessons to learn. It is not a matter of length, quite opposite! It is the art of using what I might call magic words, little used by the common crowd, or by the newspapers, but impregnated by meaning by authors and poets of old. Do not fall into the common American error, that American women are different: they do not have to study the classics as they do in Europe. They are a new race. They can take an airplane and fly right up to the top without having to go through the drudgery of the Europeans.
Don't overlook that it is your genius who inspires you to write poems. If you don't have learnt to write and read, even He cannot make His scribe write masterpieces. It is for that reason that all great artists learnt the trade first; then learnt facility and get experience. Then at last can the genius get busy, inspire thoughts and forms knowing that a little masterpiece will come out.—
A.C. made a deep study of why it is that sometimes poems which don't have a rational meaning, make the deepest impression on soul and mind?—I wish I had the time to go through your poems one by one and indicate what I mean.— — — If you rime future with nurture you get a painful effect; similarly with innumerable other cases. A.C. had made lists of words for which it was hard to find a rime: the problem of increasing his facility was everpresent in his mind. Not otherwise can you reach beyond the average scribblers.
Your later poems seem to show that you have begun to Understand: why? this sorrow has to be (caused by separation, I mean); why we must not in despair or disgust ar facts of life throw down the lute and refuse to sing. Some day I hope I can let you see A.C.'s diaries where you can see that he never became blasé; that he always, to the end, remained young; kept his impressionality and sensitivity. The oyster can only produce one pearl, caused by the squeezing out of protective material around a piece of foreign matter in its body that causes great pain. We should be different. Most human beings, and especially women, harden their soul when once it has been hurt to the quick by some experience in love. But "Exceed! Exceed!" means among other things that you have to let your soul grow to ever loftier heights. The next break or separation ought to be faced courageously. After all there is always "that which remains". All great poets have suffered intense pain in their sensitive soul, and it was that phase which produced their immortal pearls.
This is a universal law. Even "heroes" that have their work marked out for jobs in the outer world, do their greatest deeds after their deepest disappointments. Their iron has to be tempered by intense heat, and hardened and shaped by cruel blows.
Have you read the stories of female Saints? If not, it would not be loss of time to try to unearth some and study their lives. Or male saints if easier to get by. Only: the women describe often enough their sexual relations with what they call "Jesus" or some other name.
One word about "loneliness". As you are Hadit in the final analysis, you are alone; from your point, your look-out on the universe is different from any other, without exception. What A.C.'s diaries showed more than anything else was his loneliness. The higher you rise the more this becomes intense and acute. See VII, iv, 43 ". . . rare and far and utterly lonely, even as Thou and I, O desolate soul my God!" And "Into my loneliness comes—" What? A being, or a human being? Oh no! It is "the sound of a flute". He did not appear as a human companion, though it could be argued that later she or he did, for a short phase, so that "the dreadful issue could be fought out".
It is a curse to the soul to strive after something inattainable in nature. It is a boon to the soul to understand at last, how nature, or life are, and not waste any more time to pursue a phantom.
It is quite a different thing to satisfy your physical nature and sip the honey of flowers where your H.G.A. [Holy Guardian Angel]. sends them your way, and take your fill, as long as you always keep in mind "But always unto Me!" When your sorrow and need are really serious, and you appeal to your H.G.A., be sure He will send the proper parties, and smoothe the opportunities. You have got to attune your senses to His ways.
Sascha [Sascha Germer] who is an artist's soul as delicate as yors, read your poems and was moved to the very depth. She planned to write you herself. Whether she does it I don't know. But she has long seen your outstanding qualities.
Let this be all. It is almost too much.
Love is the law, love under will.
Fraternally with love,
Karl
I'm sending this again through Jane, and hope you won't mind if I leave it open.
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