"Those who see giants are still looking at the world through the eyes of a child."
-Anais Nin
I love this quote by Anais Nin. The reasons for my admiration will be forthcoming, but for now, let's consider Ms. Nin, herself. There was a time back in the early 1970s when it seemed as if there was hardly a young woman who wasn't reading one or more books of The Diary of Anais Nin. Her personal journals were both fascinating and informative. he was known as a writer and friend and confidant of some fairly famous folks in the literary circles of her time. But, it took years of writing erotica under an assumed name or two just to pay the rent and eat.
Anais Nin's perceptions and musings are riveting at times but her wisdom is what shines through. When your literary friends include Henry Miller and Kenneth Patchen, it makes for a very unpredictable and stimulating life. These folks often wrote letters to one another. Real letters. I don't really see the "collected emails" of some of today's most popular writers as being a possibility someday. Perhaps I'm wrong, but in the day and age of Anais Nin, that was the way writers communicated.
In the early 1970s I was working at a residential treatment center for kids who were classified as "emotionally disturbed." The facility had a Jungian foundation and the young staff of couples and conscientious objectors to the Vietnam War formed a kind of literary community. Most of the women there, both counseling staff and office workers carried a copy of Ms. Nin's diary. Discussion groups formed and Nin became a "giant" in their eyes. Her admirers seemed to look to her for everything. That's why when she came to speak on the UC Berkeley campus, the agency bought a block of tickets right in front, center aisle. Her presentation was gentle and thoughtful. She appeared more like someone's still wrapped, grandmother. Her smile was soft and sincere. At one point she was asked about the pronunciation of her name. Most people I knew said A ni is. But she quickly corrected that and said it is Anna eis.
After her presentation, she graciously agreed to sign her books that were available for purchase. I'd bought a small volume of her poetry, so I stood in line. When my turn came, I quietly walked the few steps to where she stood.
"And what is your name and what do you do?" she asked. I told her my name and said that I was a poet too. "To Bruce the poet," she wrote. It was all very peaceful and satisfying. She seemed genuine.
I'm not sure I still have that book. In the 50 years since that night, somebody perusing my bookshelf must have been attracted to the erotica. Perhaps I lent it to someone, I really can't remember. What does stay with me is how revered she was and probably still is. Definitely a giant in the mind of so many.
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