[Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene (1590-1596) has been on my mind a lot of late. Chastity features prominent in Book III, centering on the lady knight Britomart, who defeats Guyon (Temperance) in a joust. Britomart then quests to rescue famed Redcrosse Knight (Holiness) of the first Book, meeting the wizards Merlin (with his magic mirror) and Busirane, a poet-magician whom she must defeat in order to liberate the lovely lady Amoret. Like the other parts of this very long tale, the third Book is filled with gruesome imagery. It remains, however, one of my very favorite storylines. Like all good epic poems, the Faerie Queene plays as Merlin’s magic mirror, showing the reader/listener back to themself. One gets lost and found regularly in its verse. We are the rescuer and the rescued, intertwined as Britomart and Amoret become, with a profusion of singular feminine pronouns which at times cannot be distinguished in their reference. And so they are one, as we are one; and they are apart, as we are apart.
Why so much about Spenser? Well, as you will note, the below missive is rife with it! I found myself delighted and surprised by just how much of a presence he and his work took in this piece. I hope you too find it delighting~ ] Received 7/18/2024 | 7:11-7:40pm
Listen to the Recitation:
THE WEBS WE WOUND
What if, Chastity
Is the wizard we're looking for?
Chastity of mind
Chastity of eye
Chastity of ear
Chastity of hand
Chastity of nose
Chastity of sex
From castitatem, of Castus Matris. The same cast
Of castle, caste, castration, castra — back to kes-
Of the proto-Indo-European, giving us śastra,
Sanskrit's dagger; carere, Latin's cutting off;
And cassus, Latin's void, emptiness. And Kosa, the scythe.
The cutting which takes life and gives life;
Where is restriction needed in your life?
Severing is a casting, this is true. Sever the gaze
Downward, averting focus from that which we are told
To gaze upon. Sever the mind from thinking
On that which we are told to think about.
Sever the ear from hearing, the nose from smelling,
The hand from touching, the sex from its divulgence.
Of course these losses are permanent. Yet
Death brings life. Let us never forget this. Fear of death
Is fear of new life. Delaying of death is delaying of life.
Slay your gaze. Slay your sex. Slay your speech.
Go a-slaying ~ like the quests of olde! Spenser
Was not lying when he sang of knights and beasts
And fair maidens and foul men, and honorable men
And evil witches and faerie queenes and courts of
Noble sorts and fetid sorts and jesters and demons.
It is time for us to accept seriously that metaphors
Are real. As real as the air we breathe, the water
We drink, the bread we eat. It is time to stop protecting
Ourselves from the stories we tell. Nothing is made up
In a way that makes it not real. Reality is stranger
And more dangerous than many would like it to be.
Why else do we pathologize the psychotics for their
"Magical" thinking? Let it in, so it need not happen
So violently to you as it did to us. The tighter you hold
The more vile the ripping, the cutting, the severing.
Elect to sever—and do it in the metaphorical.
Start to play with what that might mean, what that
May look like. You are allowed to play with this, experiment
Run tests, and fail fabulously. Laugh and do it again;
Getting the same results is not crazy. Crazy is not trying
Is delaying, as if delaying were preserving life
When it is really the decaying of life. Don't delay
Go into it. Go forth! The quest is worthwhile and you
Are worthy of vanquishing this arbitrary monster
Who so wishes to be vanquished, but not without
A good tussle. You have to sweat for it.
Rewards are promised, and tangible, and highly
Valuable. They may look like money, security, strength,
Confidence, compassion, humor, indomitability
Of spirit, candor of soul, fertile lushness of soil,
Dripping brown richness, sprouting vegetables and
Fruit trees and almonds and flowers and herbs
And coiling wine-drunk vines, glowing red ivy,
Poison plants and Queen Anne's Lace, pink yarrow,
Stars-of-Bethlehem, exploding beebalm, delicate
Campanula and columbine. Shining armor, ringmail,
Beautifully adorned swords and shields and feathered
Caps, inlayed lutes and ouds and lyres, gold-spun
Thread embroidered robes, scholastic thawb,
Jeweled rings and pendants and finely carved
Stones, pillars, columns, stele. Temple keys and
Candelabra, all whisked away some 1954 years ago,
Cast out in every direction, dispersed, diasporic
Glittering trails of light, fireflies flitting over the marsh
Guiding lost souls onto stamped down deer trails,
Curving and turning, elegantly if haphazardly,
To a wide, flattened clearing, large enough for
Many to lay down, to rest, to sleep, to dream
Their way back again into the great conflict, and
Its resolution. The next stage of which calls for Chastity
A great font of charitable chastity, a well-honed
Path to honor, to fulfillment of task, to discipline
Of focus, of ignorance, of craft, of tact.
Wield it with skill; speak your magical words
And sever your way to victory.