Good Evening Herr Goethe.

In watching a German film about setting up a Christmas Market I realized how much goes into the preparation of a profitable, festive environment. One unpredictable obstacle I had never considered before – other than relating it to my own discomfort – is the rain. A seller pointed it out: “Holding on to a child with one hand and carrying an umbrella in the other leaves no room for a glass of Glühwein.

          Herr Goethe, did you think of such ordinary things as commerce and missed sales as you bent over the pages in front of you? I have yet to see your desk in Weimar, but I found a picture of the one you used as young man in Frankfurt. It looks too orderly to give away secrets.

Goethe's desk in Frankfurt

          My desk, on the other hand, is a mix of all the little parts that make up me. It holds toys, electronic equipment, pill containers, lotions, books, cables, scrap paper, bills, pens, pencils, telephone, speakers, binders, address book, yarn, knitting needles, photographs, journals, and as of late, a yellowing, disintegrating Reclam edition of Faust, der Tragödie erster Teil. I have begun to mark lines to add to this account of my involvement with your writing.

Wagner says: “Ach Gott! Die Kunst ist lang;

           Und kurz ist unser Leben.”

(lines 558 and 559)

(Oh God! How long is art; Our life how short.)

Faust says: Erquickung hast du nicht gewonnen

Wenn sie dir nicht aus eigner Seele quillt.

(lines 568 and 569)

(Oh, if it gush not from thine inmost soul, Thou has not won the life-restoring draught.)

           These words touched me after a conversation I had with a young woman this morning. Ours is a relationship based on mutual admiration from afar. We conduct our exchanges by writing to each other, but know little of each other’s daily lives. I met her in an online book discussion group and took an instant liking to her. She is artistic, very intelligent, impatient, eager to be noticed. She came to visit me once, a big smile on her face, but rather cautious words on her tongue; I suppose this was due to her friend’s presence. Yes, Herr Goethe, we still defer to our men at times. He seems to be a charming companion, but I can’t judge their relationship. Her art is unfiltered and spontaneous.

          This young woman admires my concentration. I have told her that my age requires adherence to a particular project, since there is not an abundance of time left to accomplish goals. Yes, indeed! “Art is long and life is short.”

          She showed a desire to “visit” me in Weimar. I told her that involving herself in my studies would be unfulfilling since it is not coming from deep inside her own soul. So you see, the point I had pondered for some time – your relevance – is quite clear. More than 200 years ago you said what I feel now. And you say it with such elegance.

Soon to be in Weimar,

Gisela

Photo of Goethe's Desk in Frankfurt from www.altfrankfurt.com