The question was “what was the most important thing you didn’t learn in school?” My immediate response was “how to steal fire from the gods.” School has interfered with my education at least as much as it has contributed to it. All that time—all those annoying assignments wasting time, the essence of life, in ways that might have a point in some totalitarian dream. One of the more important things I’ve learned has been how to steal fire from the gods—a task I haven’t heard explicitly mentioned in any classroom.
Eric Voegelin is best on how that works: great artists perceive in the metaxy some cosmic order. We all have glimpses of the eternal way things are, but our greatest artists give those glimpses tangible form in an artifact that others can experience. This brings the divine order within reach of people who are building an earthly order.
Such glimpses occur in proportion to the amount of time we spend in nature, trying to see. Nature is the great text of this world. But it is not a simple text, and we see much farther into it when we study the heritage of great literature that we have. The history of humanity has been a long process of waking up, and we latter-day have more riches available than we have time to access.
A simplified formula: All civilizations are formed around a core of great literature. The source of all great literature is divine revelation from the Beyond.
To be fair, I have done a lot of reading in response to school work, and that reading has been vital to all my most important learning. In my best classes—those taught by professors who enthusiastically knew more than they could say—I read many more
But it has been writers who have been my primary teachers. From