Lynn Underwood

Art, science, and personal experiences all help us better understand who we are and how we can flourish

Category: poetry

  • Wu Wei and Grace 

               I have been revisiting a tattered book of mine, The Way of Chuang Tzu by the Cistercian monk Thomas Merton (first edition, New Directions, 1965), with excerpts and poems of Chuang Tzu, a chief spokesperson for Taoism and its founder Lao Tzu, written in the fourth and third centuries BCE. I made this drawing of one of the poems, The Fighting Cock. There are also many other good poems in the book. Alongside re-reading this book I have been listening to podcasts on Chinese philosophy, which place Taoism in the context of philosophers reacting to Confucianism’s very strict rules in an orderly societal context. One episode of a History of Philosophy podcast compares Confucian notions of virtue to Aristotle and more recent exponents of “virtue ethics” from Aquinas to the present day. Virtue ethics tends to emphasize developing character rather than only relying on rules as we make ethical decisions, even though the rules can be helpful too.

                The Taoism of Chuang Tzu emphasizes wu wei, or a kind of action in inaction. Taoism and many of the poems from the book, sees wu wei as nested in the context of strict societal and personal constraints in that time. As I read the poems and Merton’s introduction to The Way of Chuang Tzu book, I see similarities to a notion of grace, flowing rather than ego-centric pushing, and it seems to harmonize well with other readings I am doing during this time of Lent in the Christian calendar.

                A friend of mine once told me “Don’t push the river.” I find myself trying too hard sometimes. Reading these poems is helpful to me as I think of how to do things like moving my current book project out into the world, and trying to help others daily. The poem of the fighting cock also opens me up to how to I might react to the inevitable arguments and animosity from others in my own life. Can these be of any use to you in your daily life?

  • Oozing out and sinking in

    When I want to absorb a quotation or some kind of message, I sometimes make a piece of art from it, playing with the lettering in creative ways. This one is a reminder to me when I become impatient with myself. “Patience is the smile of the soul”. As I made this drawing of these words, they worked their way into me, and then I stuck it up in a room with tape on the wall, and I run into it as I move about in my home. 

    I feel the impact of something written out by someone else in calligraphy or artistic lettering more strongly when the presentation is creative. I appreciate the art of Corita Kent and her playful approach to words. This one is part of a series of alphabet letters from 1968.

    Digging through old handwritten letters from friends and family that I have saved reminds me how the handwriting of someone can carry something more than emails and texts. I connect more with the person writing, even if it is just a brief note, or a signed card. I handwrite some letters still these days dominated by email and text instant-ness. No spellcheck or correcting mistakes, but that’s ok, I keep telling myself. Machine-created art or text cannot provide the human-to-human connection as well as hand-lettering does. Various empirical studies have shown that how a viewer evaluates an artwork depends on her/his knowledge of its creator or the process of creation. The same applies to our handwritten letters to and from another person.

    Each morning, I write in my journal. I use fountain pens with various coloured inks and nib sizes. I enjoy the feel of the pen on the paper, and the shape of letters, even if much of what I am writing about is mundane. I write the date and day at the beginning, somehow commemorating it. 

    I am no great calligrapher. My work would never have made it into the Book of Kells. and there is nothing perfect about my handwriting. I rarely re-read my journals, but there is a satisfaction in writing things down on paper.  

    I often write out poems or quotes I want to remember, like this one by Bernard of Clairvaux.  It was good for me to do, mistakes and all.

    Research has shown that when we write something long-hand, pen or pencil on paper, it is good for us. It helps things sink in, in a way beyond typing into a phone or computer. I still take notes on paper when listening to a talk, or even sometimes when hearing words from a friend on the phone.

    Do you write things out with pencil or pen? Have critical ‘handwriting’ teachers from your childhood spoiled the joy of handwriting for you? If so, can you reclaim the joy of writing, of making beautiful letters, or even rough ones? Do you think handwriting a note to someone might sometimes be better than an email or text even if it is imperfect and takes longer to arrive by mail? If you cannot find a stamp, you can always take a photo of it and text it to them.

    Are there any quotes you want to stick up on your wall or put on your table, not in typeface, but in your own hand?