I believe that we are lost here in America, but I believe we shall be found. And this belief, which mounts now to the catharsis of knowledge and conviction, is for me–and I think for all of us—-not only our own hope, but America’s everlasting, living dream.

–Thomas Wolfe, You Can’t Go Home Again

I have been on a break from the blog this past week. It has allowed me to divert much of the time that would be spent writing this post to painting. It’s been good. 

But I still find myself doing many of the same things that are used in writing this blog such as chasing thoughts and ideas down all kinds of rabbit holes. That’s something I would do even if I didn’t write this blog.

I have been captivated this week by the word catharsis. It is from the Greek, meaning purification and now refers to act of purging emotions through the expression and release of these emotions. For me, painting and my emotional response to the work itself often provides catharsis. I am focusing on that as a theme for my solo shows this year.

Doing some research led to the quote above from You Can’t Go Home Again, the posthumously published 1940 novel from Thomas Wolfe. It’s one of those books that have been on my must-read list for decades but I somehow never got to it. As I do with most of the quotes I employ here, I did some background research, trying to find the context in which it was used originally. The book was about a successful author who leaves his provincial hometown to write in NYC and travel throughout Europe in the 1920’s and 30’s. In it, he writes of the parallels between the inherent greed in capitalism that led to the stock market crash of the late 20’s and the rise of the authoritarian movements of the 1930’s– Fascism, Naziism and our own home-grown America First movement. It is his disillusion with the world that leads him back to his hometown in the late 30’s, before the outbreak of WW II.

I found that this passage was from the final chapter of the novel which is titled Credo. This line begins a rather remarkable longer passage that dealt what felt like a body blow to me. It captured much of what I have felt about this country for most of my adult life, that we have never truly fulfilled the promise of this nation but that the potential to do so remains alive. While we sometimes feel as though we are on the track to reach our potential, we often succumb to those who try to manipulate and prey on our dreams for their own dark desires.

It feels as though it could have been written for this very moment in time, as dictators abroad and greedy manipulators here grab for more and more. It serves as a warning yet is hopeful. I urge you to read the passage below or, if you would rather listen, I have attached a video reading of it below.

And this being Sunday morning, I am sharing my weekly Musical Selection. I thought that a recording from the late great Chet Baker would fit in perfectly since the title is the same as that from Wolfe’s book, You Can’t Go Home Again. I couldn’t find anything that directly said that the title of this composition was directly related to the book but it has a bittersweet feel that I imagine would echo the book’s.

As for my break, I will probably continue it a bit longer them begin to post randomly until I feel like getting back to my old ways. I know that this is a long read so if you made it this far today, thanks. It is, as always, much appreciated.

Now, here’s that passage from the final chapter, Credo, of Thomas Wolfe’s You Can’t Go Home Again:

I believe that we are lost here in America, but I believe we shall be found. And this belief, which mounts now to the catharsis of knowledge and conviction, is for me–and I think for all of us—-not only our own hope, but America’s everlasting, living dream. I think the life which we have fashioned in America, and which has fashioned us–the forms we made, the cells that grew, the honeycomb that was created–was self-destructive in its nature, and must be destroyed. I think these forms are dying, and must die, just as I know that America and the people in it are deathless, undiscovered, and immortal, and must live.

I think the true discovery of America is before us. I think the true fulfilment of our spirit, of our people, of our mighty and immortal land, is yet to come. I think the true discovery of our own democracy is still before us. And I think that all these things are certain as the morning, as inevitable as noon. I think I speak for most men living when I say that our America is Here, is Now, and beckons on before us, and that this glorious assurance is not only our living hope, but our dream to be accomplished.

I think the enemy is here before us, too. But I think we know the forms and faces of the enemy, and in the knowledge that we know him, and shall meet him, and eventually must conquer him is also our living hope. I think the enemy is here before us with a thousand faces, but I think we know that all his faces wear one mask. I think the enemy is single selfishness and compulsive greed. I think the enemy is blind, but has the brutal power of his blind grab. I do not think the enemy was born yesterday, or that he grew to manhood forty years ago, or that he suffered sickness and collapse in 1929, or that we began without the enemy, and that our vision faltered, that we lost the way, and suddenly were in his camp. I think the enemy is old as Time, and evil as Hell, and that he has been here with us from the beginning. I think he stole our earth from us, destroyed our wealth, and ravaged and despoiled our land. I think he took our people and enslaved them, that he polluted the fountains of our life, took unto himself the rarest treasures of our own possession, took our bread and left us with a crust, and, not content, for the nature of the enemy is insatiate–tried finally to take from us the crust.

I think the enemy comes to us with the face of innocence and says to us:

“I am your friend.”

I think the enemy deceives us with false words and lying phrases, saying:

“See, I am one of you–I am one of your children, your son, your brother, and your friend. Behold how sleek and fat I have become–and all because I am just one of you, and your friend. Behold how rich and powerful I am–and all because I am one of you–shaped in your way of life, of thinking, of accomplishment. What I am, I am because I am one of you, your humble brother and your friend. Behold,” cries Enemy, “the man I am, the man I have become, the thing I have accomplished–and reflect. Will you destroy this thing? I assure you that it is the most precious thing you have. It is yourselves, the projection of each of you, the triumph of your individual lives, the thing that is rooted in your blood, and native to your stock, and inherent in the traditions of America. It is the thing that all of you may hope to be,” says Enemy, “for”–humbly–“am I not just one of you? Am I not just your brother and your son? Am I not the living image of what each of you may hope to be, would wish to be, would desire for his own son? Would you destroy this glorious incarnation of your own heroic self? If you do, then,” says Enemy, “you destroy yourselves–you kill the thing that is most gloriously American, and in so killing, kill yourselves.”

He lies! And now we know he lies! He is not gloriously, or in any other way, ourselves. He is not our friend, our son, our brother. And he is not American! For, although he has a thousand familiar and convenient faces, his own true face is old as Hell.

Look about you and see what he has done.