Because thou lovest the burning-ground, I have made a burning-ground of my heart. That thou, dark one, hunter of the burning-ground, mayest dance thy eternal dance.
– Bengali hymn to Kali
It’s a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripides speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, “more like deer than human being.” To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst! To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal! These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn.
- Donna Tartt, The Secret History
One of my favorite parts of The Secret History. I love that novel so much, and I’ve taught and read it soooo many times.
It makes me sad to think that there are people who haven’t read The Secret History.
Beautiful photos. Thumbs up for uncircumcised peenie. I know this guy in rural MD (unrelated to peenie) whose mom is dead, his cat just died, and he’s all depressed about his life. “You have nothing holding you back there,” I said. “Just get in your car and GO.” I doubt he will, but some folks can’t be helped.
Amen! That’s really the best possible advice you could have given him.