We go to the river most days in the summer, so the boys and dog can swim. You can probably hear me, from wherever you happen to live, yelling to them to come back, closer to the shore, closer to me. Once upon a time a grown man came and plunged into the water with them. At first his small dog nervously swam out to reach him, crying with each stroke, as nervous swimming dogs do. But the man swam farther and farther out, he was more than halfway across the river, and he was floating away with the current, down the river towards the bridge. It was, at once, a most peaceful and a most anxious sight. He seemed fine, he was fine, he probably just wanted to know what it was like to hang out on the pylons with the turtles, and who hasn’t wanted to do that? But I’d been standing in the sun for a long time, and reading my book of Egyptian literature, and feeling a little dazed. I imagined him having existential thoughts. Not a crisis, just a pondering, a “Why not float out to sea?” moment. The center-piece of my Egyptian literature book is a “remarkable Middle Kingdom text” called The Man Who Was Tired of Life. It’s a dialogue between a man and his soul. I know what you’re thinking, plenty of people have written dialogues between body and soul. There’s Andrew Marvel’s A Dialogue Between the Body and the Soul, and Yeats A Dialogue between Self and Soul. But this is early, this is from the middle kingdom of Egyptian literature, and that’s…that’s…well, I honestly have no idea when that was, but it’s really early. And this man is so strangely relatable. I imagine most people have felt like this at one time or another. He’s feeling down. Partially in the “I think I’ll go eat worms,” way. “Behold, my name is detested, Behold more than the smell of vultures/ On a summer’s day when the sky is hot.” (More than the smell of vultures!) But he’s also feeling discouraged about people, about all of humanity.
“To whom can I speak today?/ Faces are averted,/ And every man looks askance at his brethren.
To whom can I speak today?/ Hearts are rapacious/And there is no man’s heart in which one can trust.
To whom can I speak today?/ There are no just persons/And the land is left over to doers of wrong.”
The strange thing…when we came home from the river, I sat in our cool store and continued to make my slow way through Dostoevsky’s The Idiot, and I happened to be on a passage in which thirteen-year-old Kolya says to Prince Myshkin, “Honest People are terribly scarce here, so that there’s really nobody one can respect…We are all adventurers nowadays…they are all money-grubbers, every one of them.”
And then, if you read the news, especially lately, it’s hard not to get down about humanity, it’s hard to keep from being discouraged and cynical and pessimistic. But it’s important to remember that for every piece of tragic news, we can cling to hope in the response of most of the people who hear it: in the outpouring of sympathy and love and even anger, all of these things that will combine to push us towards justice. “Hate won’t win.” And the man on the river made it easily to shore, and stood on the bank joking with whoever was standing there. And the soul persuades the Man Who Was Tired of Life to carry on, and to “Cast complaint upon the peg,…and cleave to life.” And Myshkin, who notices everything and understands everything, says, “What could I teach you? At first I was simply not dull; I soon began to grow stronger. Then every day became precious to me, and more precious as time went on, so that I began to notice it. I used to go to bed very happy and get up happier still. But it would be hard to say why.” We have to cleave to hope, even if we can’t say why.
Here’s Amazing Grace by Blind Willie McTell
About 3 cups fingerling potatoes, about 1 pound
3 artichoke hearts, (I use canned in brine) drained
1/2 cup (heaping) pitted black olives
2 t capers
2 t fresh rosemary
3 fresh sage leaves, chopped
2 t fresh thyme or lemon thyme
2 bay leaves
1/2 cup sliced toasted almonds
1 t smoked paprika
1 slice sandwich bread or a piece of baguette with the crusts removed
1/3 cup olive oil
1 t balsamic vinegar
handful of fresh basil and cilantro, washed, trimmed, and chopped
salt and freshly ground pepper
Wash the potatoes and slice the larger ones in half lengthwise. Put them in a large pot of water and boil until they’re just softened. You want to be able to prick them with a knife, but not push it all the way through. Ten to 20 minutes depending on the potato. Drain completely.
Meanwhile, combine the nuts, bread, sage, rosemary, paprika, olive oil and balsamic in the blender or food processor and process until coarse and crumbly. You don’t want it to be too smooth of a paste.
Lightly oil a baking dish and preheat the oven to 400 degrees.
Drop the potatoes in the dish, and then put all the almond mixture in as well, and stir well till everything is coated. Add the bay leaves, capers, artichoke hearts and olives, and stir again till everything is well-mixed. Cover with foil and bake for about twenty minutes, till everything is hot and the potatoes are softened. Remove the foil. Stir everything. If the dish is dry, and another slug of olive oil or a dash of white wine. Return to the heat uncovered and bake until the potatoes are completely soft and the coating is crispy. You can broil it at the last moments if you like.
Chop the basil and cilantro and sprinkle over the potatoes. Season well with salt and pepper, and serve.