Named & Nameless by Susan McCaslin

From Susan McCaslin comes her twenty-first volume of poetry, Named & Nameless, an interrogation of the individual’s relationship to, and search for, the divine. This purpose is surfaced in the three important epigraphs that precede the volume. The first is an excerpt from the Hymn to Inanna, an ancient praise song to the Sumerian goddess (more on her later). The second is from Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching concerning the meaning of the name, the nameless and the named. The third is from Leonard Cohen expanding on the same concepts.

The writing here is quite lean, but not obscure, with a flavor in places of Zen koans; the effect is to invite the reader along a journey that is rooted in nature and self-reflection, and engages with a variety of historical and literary figures.

The first section, “Naming,” immediately establishes this context. In the opening piece, “Who Am I?,” there is a “child singing arias in an apple tree// //transparent apples gathered in my lap” which sing “unheard hymns to unseen hosts//from inside a tree”. In the second poem, “Who Is She?,” “a woman rises”, proceeds with her morning, pursues “some pointed//self-examination” until the divine, in the form of “I Am” interrupts her and directs her attention to a Douglas Fir tree, “whose only sentence is sentience.”

Thereafter, more questions are posed (“What do you fear?;” “wonder how even though//we’re all divine suffering prevails” [“The Bespectacled Child”]; “wondering how// //hooves dance grace//heads grow branching trees of life” [“The Anxious Contemplative,” after viewing two deer]) and visions such as that in “The Bespectacled Child:” “When I gaze into your body//i see cells like living pearls//constantly re-forming”.

There are also additional self-reflections (“The Anxious Contemplative;” “Lined Visage;” “my own voice?//no calmer softer clearer” [“Out of a Blue Diamond Flame”]; “she tries like an ancient astrologer// //to decipher starscrawls//on inner tablatures…” [“Her Childish Left-Handed, Back-Handed Script”]); and thought-provoking little pieces such as “Poem Found on Morning Pillow” and “Transformative.”

These various streams converge in the aptly named Grace: “Sophia compassion//not forgiving//(since there is//nothing to forgive)// //but seeing us//as we are://worthy to be loved”. The final piece in the first section, “The Names,” responds to, and interacts with, four lines from Pablo Neruda’s Gautama Christ that reflect on the sacredness of names and naming, which leads into a key goal of the next part.

With the groundwork laid, the second section, “Naming & Unnaming,” begins with self-reflection culminating in “…sensing process//as serious play// //news-making//despite these faltering//steps of a beginner” (“Much of the Time I Lie Wrapped in a Cloud of Unknowing”) and then proceeds with an extended search through Nature for enlightenment.

This starts with “A Forest Riff on Don Domanski’s ‘Biodiversity is the Mother of All Beauty'” and, then, in “To What Is,” to an invocation that informs much of the following: “open us to our nonhuman siblings//who share with us this blue sphere”. These nonhuman siblings include owls, whales, wolves, honeybees, caribou, polar bears, sandhill cranes, ducks (perhaps actually a mallard), red-shafted northern flickers, herons, hummingbirds, sparrows, foxes and bald eagles. There is also a two-part piece (“Sturgeon Visitations”) addressed to those “whose ancestors emerged//sixty-five million years ago” and the somewhat more extended “Song of the Empathetic Beast,” “an elegy for our dog Penny” who “with her wisdom neurons//nosed deep past skin and bones.” Crucially, we are, per the section title, engaged in naming. In this context it is worth quoting a couple of excerpts from the late philosopher, essayist and playwright Susan Griffin’s short essay “Naming” in her book Women and Nature which relate to book’s epigraphs and bear directly on one of this section’s central purposes:

“Beneath naming, beneath words, is something else. An existence named unnamed and unnameable.”
“…all that we say we are saying around that which cannot be said, cannot be spoken. But in a moment that which is behind naming makes itself known.”
“…all this knowledge is in the souls of everything, behind naming, before speaking, beneath words.”

Along the way help is derived from scientists Copernicus and Pythagoras, and poets par excellence Emily Dickinson and Walt Whitman (“your miniature cabinets//cosmic as Walt’s barbaric yawps”, “Emily Scape”).

Importantly too, we return to trees. They are presented as inspiration in “A Vision of Trees” and “A Mottled Leaf.” In “Saving the Trees.” they are under threat, with the author, reversing childhood tales of “rescued princesses”, proclaiming “now I am the princess// //galloping fiercely//through gales//to save a rainforest.” “Lao Tzu Meets the Progress Trap” introduces us to McCaslin’s neighbour, for whom “these breathing trees//western red cedars hemlocks Douglas Firs” on his property are merely “obstacles//to his view”. In a scene reminiscent of Saruman at Isengard in Tolkien’s The Two Towers, said neighbour deploys “hackers// //hewers excavators diggers screaming//chainsaws” to rip them all down. The city, perhaps to no one’s surprise, proves useless: “city covenants few seldom enforced”. At the end, the figure of Lao Tzu, noting the “Great harm”, points out that “Nothing abides outside the Tao//flowing around and through the all.”

Finally, this section concludes with “Arctic Sophia,” a loop-back both to “Grace” from the first section and the author’s “faltering steps” from opening poem of the second. McCaslin engages in an Arctic hike and meets a “wise woman”, an “aged crone” who “tells fortunes”, “her eyes the blue of the pools//she is the Arctic landscape// //white hair sapphire eyes//signal me to her mat to tell my story”. After doing so, their interaction climaxes when the “old woman// //…bends forward locks my eyes claps my hands// enunciates slowly ‘Be Bold’ “.

Thus inspired we proceed to the final section, “Named & Nameless.” The foundation in Nature is maintained (including our familiar guides, trees), but broadening out to the entire earth (“Gaia;” “From the Great Above She Sets Her Mind on the Great Below;” “Excavations”). However, this part also features a strong move towards what Griffin terms the unnameable, which McCaslin renders as the nameless. This is assisted by a number of human interlocuters, including Robin Blaser, Stanley Kunitz, J.S. Porter, Thomas Merton, P.K. Page/Irwin (who painted under P.K. Irwin and wrote as P.K. Page; both aspects surface in “A Meditation on P.K. Irwin’s Winged Footprint”), E.D. Blodgett, the artist Odilon Redon and the female medieval mystic and theologian Julian of Norwich (listed as Julian of Norway in the epigraph to “Waking Matters,” but Norwich is meant.

Importantly too, direct reference is made to spirituality and various religious traditions. Two of the pieces in which there are general explorations are “Living in the Layers” (“when trying to speak of god the gods//the goddess integral consciousness// //unified being energy etcetera//heads hit the nameless// //exchange addresses with the other side of time”) and “Mystery” (“there is a beyond that is now//elsewhere here echolocation// //where language falls on its knees”). Hinduism (or maybe Buddhism) is touched on in “On Gazing into the Face of the Beloved” via the chakras, and Judaism is referenced a few times (including Merkabah mysticism [“Merkabah Mystic”]), but the heaviest assistance is gained from Christianity, which figures into several poems (for example, “Holy Ghost” [“how you breathed us//drew us in and out//made your chthonic journey” and “A Maundy Thursday Meditation”).

We also benefit from the return of Sophia in three poems (including “Dear Sophia:” “I surrender to//your wisdom”) and the appearance in three pieces of Inanna, “the ancient Sumerian goddess of love, sensuality, fertility, procreation, and also of war” (“World History Encyclopedia”). She was also associated with the moon, being the daughter of the moon god; a tie-back to moon poems in the second section, including one that references Selene, the ancient Greek moon goddess. In the third section we explore Inanna’s journey into the underworld (Inanna), riff on a line from the Sumerian writings about her (“‘From the Great Above She Sets Her Mind on the Great Below'”) and, in the final conventional poem in this section, follow her voyage into “oneness” (“Inanna Enters Oneness”): “Let her teach you to dance//and to love// //despite ordeals//and losses// //let her take your hand//and enter oneness”.

The final item in the book is what the author calls a mandala poem, and is in a way a characterization of the destination of the book’s journey. It consists of an alphabetic spiral of various names that have been applied at various times and by various cultures to the nameless (or perhaps divine in other words) or to closely associated concepts or figures, from Aasha through God and Goddess to Zarathustra.

This is a deeply spiritual work, often written directly but leveraging a variety of traditions and references. It is rooted in Nature and foregrounds the divine feminine. The journey is well worth making.

Jennifer Wenn

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Jennifer Wenn is a trans-identified writer and speaker from London, Ontario.  Her first poetry chapbook was A Song of Milestones (Harmonia Press).  Her first full-size collection was Hear Through the Silence (Cyberwit).  Her newest collection is Emergence (Wet Ink Books).  She has also published poetry, reviews and essays in numerous journals and anthologies; has spoken at numerous venues; and is the proud parent of two adult children.   Website: https://jenniferwennpoet.wixsite.com/home