There is no way to avoid his seminal presence in my life. I can't get away from him, and I don't want to. I had to make pilgrimage to St Michael's in East Coker. These literary sites are sacred places. And must be preserved, as long as we have imagination, all the while knowing that -
In my beginning is my end. In succession
Houses rise and fall, crumble, are extended,
Are removed, destroyed, restored, or in their place
Is an open field, or a factory, or a by-pass.
Old stone to new building, old timber to new fires,
Old fires to ashes, and ashes to the earth
Which is already flesh, fur and faeces,
Bone of man and beast, cornstalk and leaf.
Houses live and die: there is a time for building
And a time for living and for generation
And a time for the wind to break the loosened pane
And to shake the wainscot where the field-mouse trots
And to shake the tattered arras woven with a silent motto.
The shelters and churches will fall, but we must help them stand as long as we can.
I was deeply moved by the ancient female goddess figure that stands beside Eliot in his corner of the church. I can't explain how that abiding feminine presence alongside him pierced my soul.
Dawn points, and another day
Prepares for heat and silence. Out at sea the dawn wind
Wrinkles and slides. I am here
Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning.
Holly, it has made my day to know that you live close to the shelter. I never wanted to leave East Coker, one of the most beautiful villages I saw in England. I am so glad Eliot lies there. The spirit of the place evokes him powerfully for me. He is there.