Letter #5

Dear Flannery,

What I really mean by you being dead is that you have passed on to another realm of existence where you are busily engaged in what is most important because that is the kind of person you were here and I’m certain we don’t change from here to there but remain the same sort of person with the same feelings and wishes and beliefs. You thought so too when you said “those qualities least dispensable” in our personalities here are the ones we “will have to take into eternity” with us.

I don’t want you worrying that I’m going to track you down first thing when I get to where you are. That is not what I mean to do. Oh, sure, there are a lot of dead authors I’d like to thank or meet or know, but I don’t think this is how it will be. I think, in the Most Hopeful Place in question, among those there, all of what is thought of as admiration and appreciation for each other will automatically bounce right off us previously mortal people and land squarely on the Right Being.

I also don’t want you worrying about my being obsessed with these things, in the way the world thinks of being obsessed with religion. No, I don’t keep peacocks like you did, but I do have plenty of other interests (even though I admit they all point back to what I care most about).

You should see it now, the world I mean. The badness part is all so much more of what you described. You hit so many nails right on their heads, and like you said about St. Thomas, I wish you “were handy to consult about this” or that business. Be that as it may, I must remember to pray more. I am not consistently good at clear-minded substantial lengthy private praying. You said you weren't much good at it either if I recall. "My attention is always very fugitive," is how you put it. I can relate, my mind ends up wandering so. And the time I spend on my knees often ends up a mishmash of human wonderment in my head. But it still feels like prayer and light to me so I don't fret about it.

Wishing you were here,

Your Striving Friend