Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
annie dillard
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
for Richard
It ever was, and is, and shall be, ever-living Fire, in measures being kindled and in measures going out.
—HERACLITUS
Contents
Epigraph
1
Heaven and Earth in Jest
iii
3
2
Seeing
16
3
Winter
37
4
The Fixed
55
5
Untying the Knot
73
6
The Present
78
7
Spring
105
8
Intricacy
124
9
Flood
149
10
Fecundity
161
11
Stalking
184
12
Nightwatch
209
13
The Horns of the Altar
225
14
Northing
247
15
The Waters of Separation
265
Afterword
278
More Years Afterward
283
About Annie Dillard
285
About the Author
Other Books By Annie Dillard
Cover
Copyright
About the Publisher
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
1
Heaven and Earth in Jest
I used to have a cat, an old fighting tom, who would jump through the open window by my bed in the middle of the night and land on my chest. I’d half-awaken. He’d stick his skull under my nose and purr, stinking of urine and blood. Some nights he kneaded my bare chest with his front paws, powerfully, arching his back, as if sharpening his claws, or pummeling a mother for milk. And some mornings I’d wake in daylight to find my body covered with paw prints in blood; I looked as though I’d been painted with roses.
It was hot, so hot the mirror felt warm. I washed before the mirror in a daze, my twisted summer sleep still hung about me like sea kelp. What blood was this, and what roses? It could have been the rose of union, the blood of murder, or the rose of beauty bare and the blood of some unspeakable sacrifice or birth. The sign on my body could have been an emblem or a stain, the keys to the kingdom or the mark of Cain. I never knew. I never
4 / Annie Dillard
knew as I washed, and the blood streaked, faded, and finally disappeared, whether I’d purified myself or ruined the blood sign of the passover. We wake, if we ever wake
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
for Richard
It ever was, and is, and shall be, ever-living Fire, in measures being kindled and in measures going out.
—HERACLITUS
Contents
Epigraph
1
Heaven and Earth in Jest
iii
3
2
Seeing
16
3
Winter
37
4
The Fixed
55
5
Untying the Knot
73
6
The Present
78
7
Spring
105
8
Intricacy
124
9
Flood
149
10
Fecundity
161
11
Stalking
184
12
Nightwatch
209
13
The Horns of the Altar
225
14
Northing
247
15
The Waters of Separation
265
Afterword
278
More Years Afterward
283
About Annie Dillard
285
About the Author
Other Books By Annie Dillard
Cover
Copyright
About the Publisher
Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
1
Heaven and Earth in Jest
I used to have a cat, an old fighting tom, who would jump through the open window by my bed in the middle of the night and land on my chest. I’d half-awaken. He’d stick his skull under my nose and purr, stinking of urine and blood. Some nights he kneaded my bare chest with his front paws, powerfully, arching his back, as if sharpening his claws, or pummeling a mother for milk. And some mornings I’d wake in daylight to find my body covered with paw prints in blood; I looked as though I’d been painted with roses.
It was hot, so hot the mirror felt warm. I washed before the mirror in a daze, my twisted summer sleep still hung about me like sea kelp. What blood was this, and what roses? It could have been the rose of union, the blood of murder, or the rose of beauty bare and the blood of some unspeakable sacrifice or birth. The sign on my body could have been an emblem or a stain, the keys to the kingdom or the mark of Cain. I never knew. I never
4 / Annie Dillard
knew as I washed, and the blood streaked, faded, and finally disappeared, whether I’d purified myself or ruined the blood sign of the passover. We wake, if we ever wake