How to love the world
The eternal lessons of "Charlotte's Web"
For our next Sunday Candlelight Chat, we’re honored to host Sharon Salzberg (!!!) (one of the world’s leading meditation teachers), on April 14, at 1 pm EST.
To participate (and to receive the video replays if you can’t attend) — or to just read more of Susan’s writing — you’ll need a paid or scholarship subscription to the Quiet Life. We put a ton of daily labor (of love) into this work, and truly appreciate your support.
“All that I hope to say in books, all that I ever hope to say, is that I love the world.” - E.B. White
Dear Ham-dels (please read here to know why I call you this),
Unless you’re very very new here (in which case, WELCOME 🤗), you know by now how much I love to share with you gems from kindred spirits. I find these gems scattered around, all over the place, and one of the many missions of this Quiet Life Substack is to gather a few of them in this one central spot so you can return to them, again and again.
So, today: here’s a recent tweet from Elliott Black, who by the way has recently started a lovely Substack of his own, called Begin in Wonder. It’s about E.B. White, the author of the magisterial children’s books, Charlotte’s Web and Trumpet of the Swan.
And I ask you, if you’ve ever read Charlotte’s Web, if it graced your childhood, if it shaped your growing character, if you think of it even now, when you pass a dusty barnyard, or drive by a countryside farm, or spot a spider on your windowsill:
Do you have even a whit of surprise that E.B. White was “a shy, gentle & very private man”?
And then I ask you to remember, the next time you, or a beloved child, friend, pupil, etc., feels lesser-than for being this way, to remember that Charlotte’s Web would not, could not, exist, without beings like this.
Other creations, born of bolder, louder temperaments, would still be here, and these works are glorious too.
But we need the people who can infuse a world of soul into a Wilbur and a Charlotte.
We need the people who love the world, even as they feel safest between the covers of a book.
We need them now, more than ever.
“A library is a good place to go when you feel unhappy, for there, in a book, you may find encouragement and comfort. A library is a good place to go when you feel bewildered or undecided, for there, in a book, you may have your question answered. Books are good company, in sad times and happy times, for books are people—people who have managed to stay alive by hiding between the covers of a book.”
-E.B. White
*
Before you go, here are two questions to consider:
*Are you a little like E.B. White, or do you know and love someone who is?
*What unique gifts does this person (who might be you) offer this broken & beautiful world?
Please leave a comment, below! I always love to hear what you think and experience — and so do your fellow readers.
As a naturally reserved and quiet individual who just happens to be surrounded by wonderfully lively and gregarious friends and family, I often question and doubt myself as if there is something "wrong" with me. Why do I always balk at an invitation to a party and why does staying home and staying in always seem to be my instinctual, and deliciously more joyful, choice? While I still struggle with these doubts from time to time, I have settled with an interior peace that my calling is to love the world in my own slow and quiet way. All the hours I've spent pondering and wondering and learning (I'm currently in grad school for a counseling psychology degree) about the hows and whys of being human, I hope to have pay off in the same way a slow cooked meal does. Only, instead of feeding mouths I'm hoping to feed souls. To help others whose role in life is NOT to be quiet (maybe some of the aforementioned gregarious loved ones!) see things in a new light, just as they help me in their own unique way.
Love reading all these comments. My own feelings at the moment have nothing to do with this author, or this book… or maybe it does. My daughter has just visited, and what fills me now is something I cannot give you. But I can tell you I wonder how it is that such goodness, such goodwill, such humor, such tenderness has anything at all to do with me. I watch her, I watch how she smiles and laughs, I see how she hugs her dog. I realize this is out of place for this post, but I wonder, “where did you come from, dear daughter of mine?”. That your soul is so kind and precious reminds me what an honor it is to be your dad. I can’t give you on this page through my words all that makes me smile, but I see her weave her web of kindness and goodness, and fun, and humor… where did you come from, dear daughter? Overwhelming!