Parable of the Interior—Scott Cairns
Parable of the Interior —we are driving to the interior Every descent is difficult, but this late, chastening trek—a puzzled mind now dipping into an alleged cove biding just here at the pulsing base of my throat— proves far too much for me to undertake on my own. I’ve made the journey two times prior, but those visits were brief—too brief— and they had come about without my so much as thinking I would thus descend. No, each of these dear descents happened just as I pored over some words I shaped without speaking. On the Holy Mountain some long time ago, Father Palamás paused mid- prayer to raise his stole from my bowed head to meet my eyes and say It is not you who prays. When you descend into your heart, you will find Him there, already praying. I had no idea, then, what he meant, but loved the notion that my heart contained an interior more spacious than its grip. Generally speaking, implicative lacunae—discrete bowers opening to reveal yet a glimpse of endlessness— are my longtime jam. Descent? Ascent? Who would dare say? The interior, noetic cove ever opens to uncharted seas. Forever. Still, of late, my several earnest questions of travel have dwindled to but one: am I able to set out?
Scott Cairns is the author of twelve poetry collections, a spiritual memoir, and a book-length meditation on suffering. His fifteenth book, Chemo with Coleridge, will be published by Slant Books in 2026.
Simply awesome is my intellectual and heartfelt response. Thanks!
Will be thinking on the whispered, nearly-dreamlike doctrine sewn into this piece: “I had no idea, then, what he meant, but loved the notion that my heart contained an interior more spacious than its grip.” Thank you!