The Necessary Angel

I am reminded of Wallace Stevens' poem "ANGEL SURROUNDED BY PAYSANS".

excerpts:

Yet I am the necessary Angel of earth, since, in my sight, you see the earth again...

I am one of you and being one of you
Is being and knowing what I am and know.
Yet I am the necessary angel of earth,
Since, in my sight, you see the earth again,
Cleared of its stiff and stubborn, man-locked set
And, in my hearing, you hear its tragic drone
Rise liquidly in liquid lingerings,
Like watery words awash; like meanings said
By repetitions of half-meanings. Am I not,
Myself, only half a figure of a sort,
A figure half seen, or seen for a moment, a man
Of the mind, an apparition appareled in
Apparels of such lightest look that a turn
Of my shoulders and quickly, too quickly, I am gone?

=============

I am reminded of something very powerful which I once read in the
collected letters of the poet Wallace Stevens. Someone asked for his
opinion of a certain published poet, and Stevens simply replied, "He
does not write as though he HAS to write."


When one MUST write, regardless of the consequences; when one MUST
write even though it means a life of failure, scorn, poverty and the
loss of family and friends; when one MUST write even at the risk of
one's live and freedom in a totalitarian society; when one MUST write
as an expression of one's very being, a need as primordial as thirst
and hunger, then one is a writer in the utmost sense of the word, and
success or income has no bearing on the matter but is simply a by-
product of what one MUST do.


For a writer such as this, all of life and existence is a means to an
end and that end is writing. For all others, writing is a means to
some end, whether it be recognition or income or something else.


A writer such as I have described does not choose to be what they
are, for had they some choice in the matter, one could not truly say
that they write because they MUST.


Since Wallace Stevens has been quoted, one may reasonably assume that
Stevens wrote because he MUST write. Indeed, he was a very successful
Hartford Insurance company Vice President. Many of his business
associates had no idea that he was a world-renowned poet. If one
reads the collected poems of Wallace Stevens, and his essays on
imagination, "The Necessary Angel" (a title taken from his
poem "Angel Among Paysans") then one begins to understand the life of
someone who wrote because he MUST write.


Wallace Stevens was personal friends with both Carl Sandburg and
Robert Frost. Stevens used to laugh at Sandburg behind his back for
Sandburg's habit of arriving from week on the road, giving readings,
and counting all his payment checks over and over like some miser.


I do not imagine that Carl Sandburg wrote because he MUST. I imagine
that writing was for Sandburg a means to some other end. That does
not mean that Sandburg was bad or that Sandburg was wrong or even
that Sandburg had a choice in the matter. I imagine that Frost wrote
because he MUST.


It would be an interesting and instructive exercise to expand upon
this notion of what it means to write because one MUST and, having
constructed this lens of narrative necessity, to survey the panorama
of the centuries of world literature seeking out those who wrote
because they MUST, and what it is that makes their writing different
from other writers and how their writing makes us different.


Frost once spoke of that line from a poem which "immortally" wounds.

=============
Jesus once saw a fig tree from a distance, whose foliage and bloom promised fruit. Yet, when he approached to partake, he found no fruit. So, he cursed the tree saying "Xeranthesete!" (Be thou withered). The next day, the Apostles observed that the tree had dried up and died. The blind see at once. The dead arise immediately. The tree dies overnight.

Is the fig tree evil because it is useless?