“Before their eyes in sudden view appear
The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark
Illimitable Ocean without Bound,
Without dimension, where length, breadth, and heighth,
And time and place are lost; where eldest Night
And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold
Eternal anarchy, amidst the noise
Of endless wars, and by confusion stand.
For Hot, Cold, Moist, and Dry, four champions fierce
Strive here for mast’ry, and to battle bring
Their embryon atoms, they around the flag
Of each his faction, in their several clans,
Light-armed or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift or slow,
Swarm populous, unnumbered as the sands
Of Barca or Cyrene torrid soil,
Levied to side with warring winds, and poise
Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere,
He rules a moment; Chaos umpire sits,
And by decision more embroils the fray
By which he reigns: next him high arbiter
Chance governs all.”
(ll. 890-910 from John Milton’s Paradise Lost)
The reason why I am not giving you an introduction is because I did not get one either. Book II of Paradise Lost in general, but especially this passage, shook me to my core—I could not look up at the night sky, let alone explore whatever is deep within me. Everything started to seem like this vision of Milton’s Satan, and it terrified me. What do you mean Chance is the arbiter of my life? What do you mean there’s an illimitable ocean I will never comprehend beyond the simple fact of its immense magnitude? How am I supposed to reconcile with my own insignificant existence,the only existence I’ll ever have? Regardless, reading Paradise Lost over the vacation period was mandatory. I had no way around it. And I am so grateful for that.
Paradise Lost is by no means a very simple text to summarise (or to study, believe me) but the narrative roughly follows the banishment of Satan and his disciples into Hell; Satan’s course over to Eden where he convinces Eve to eat the forbidden fruit; an unsuccessful war waged against God and his heavenly congregation; and finally, the fall of man, as a result of the original sin (the fruit eaten earlier).
In this article I am only focusing on this convoluting passage of Book II for the sake of challenging my own fears (and potentially some of yours). First of all, writing about something incomprehensible is a paradox in itself. However, I would argue that this specific paradox is more than a simple dead end. Much of our thinking and writing occurs through images, and poets expand, extend, restrict, or subvert those images to conjure up original imagery in our mental theatres. Milton’s chaotic cosmology is difficult to grasp, but he uses similes and conceptual metaphors to transpose the abstract setting into a more reader-friendly, familiar one. As for us, due to the privilege of our imagination, we may ground ourselves in linguistics and images and defeat the chaos derived from the first impression. I would like to invite you to join me in a bit of exposure therapy as we proceed through this “illimitable Ocean.”
In Sudden View
An element of shock is essential for a terrifying effect. It makes perfect sense to me that Sin and Satan should be absolutely taken aback when faced with the “view” of the “hoary deep.” I conceptualised that depth through two memories of mine: the Mediterranean sea and the night sky. I saw the bottom of a sea in Mallorca back in 2017 for the very first time. Having around 8 years of swimming experience at that point, I was convinced my little heart would be unfazed—and I was wrong. My eyes were so fixed on the deep that I forgot to breathe, forgot about my family around me, and kept swimming lower and lower. I can still picture that darkness, deeper than the night. I can recall a strange force of attraction, a certain intrigue, but also the vivid fear of being crushed under hydraulic pressure. Similarly, I am terrified of the night sky. When my younger sister and I stargazed I would have to look away because I could not bear the sight reaching beyond any and every single boundary I have ever known. I felt insignificant and everything else felt “illimitable”.
Whenever I try to navigate my fear of the boundless infinity looming over me, I take a mental trip back to Austrian ski trips with my family. After swimming training five days a week, there was nothing more liberating than the first deep breath on top of the slopes. It was the thrill of racing down that my heart chased, but my mind was fixated on the landscape right ahead of me (many times to the point of distraction, but a little snow couldn’t hurt my face too much). Similar to the sky, snow covered everything from my feet to the horizon in each direction: slopes, evergreens, and gorgeous mountains “without dimension” and I did indeed lose my sense of “time and place.” I felt liberated, not merely confined in a fragile human body. Now, whenever the boundless ocean of darkness and constellations above scare me, I try to transpose onto it the sublimity of mountains. Snow has never swallowed me and neither will the sky. The only navigation I would need when looking up is finding the Little Bear. Similarly, Milton’s Chaos cannot hurt me either. Satan is grappling with the anarchical forces, and for now, all I need to do is write “hot” on the margins every now and then.
Hot, Cold, Moist, Dry
Here, Milton evokes tangible aspects of the four Aristotelian elements (Fire, Air, Water, Earth) in utter chaos, in “eternal anarchy” and “endless wars”. Now, I’m sure this was not his intention, but I take this as an exercise in mindfulness. Fortunately, I don’t have to physically experience the chaos of elements like Satan, meaning I am free to look around my room and notice the red Lego rose my sister got me. I get to feel my cooling moisturiser every morning while I catch the first rays of sunshine flooding into my room. I can notice the warmth of my jumper, the cold side of my pillow, and feel a freshly washed towel. You may think this conclusion far-fetched but Milton himself grounds the elements in images of “embryon atoms” and the “sands / Of Barca and Cyrene.” I acknowledge that elements are not exactly combatting in my room, but my mind often is. That is why I appreciate very simple tangible memories and routines. In a short while, they pull me back to reality and away from the “noise” and “confusion” of thoughts that seem just as anarchical as Milton’s Chaos sometimes.
Chance Governs All
Now this one is difficult to digest. I can safely argue that many of us in this generation feel out of control more often than we would like. Unfortunately, the role of other governing bodies besides Chance is becoming more and more significant in worsening that despair. On a personal level, though, I maintain that inconsistencies and anxieties of one’s mind are capable of conjuring up a Milton-level Chaos. Trains of thought easily morph into “warring winds” and each anxious idea may “[rule] a moment” – or several moments, hours, and days for that matter. I like a narrative to make sense: hook me in, unravel the plot, and give me a satisfactory ending. Unfortunately, living with an anxious mind resembles Milton’s Chaos far more than Jane Austen’s Persuasion or Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. One always expects potential triggers looming at every corner which indeed feels like chaos wherein “chance governs all.”
Anxiety is incredibly isolating. In moments of chaos, most of us distance ourselves from the people we love. More importantly, we may lose sight of who we truly are; what idea of us is the most real and authentic. For those moments, I would like to add a comforting perspective on chaos derived from Tobi Zausner’s chapter titled ‘Embracing the Infinite’ in Chaos and Nonlinear Psychology. She is working within the theoretical framework of nonlinear dynamical systems—a system involving changeable variables with differing, even abrupt interactions—and focuses on “producing a complex new order” whenever we experience the turbulence of chaos. She, along with other psychologists in this volume, distinguishes disorder from chaos: in Zausner’s understanding, the breaking down of old structures leads to new paths of self-organisation. The comfort I find in this insight is that I am not alone in my struggles. I am not the only contingent person whose mind races at 200 kilometres per hour trying to make sense of every stimulus and cope with each trigger. Fearing chance and chaos is perfectly human: while I cannot resolve it for you, I am trying my best to suggest some coping mechanisms. Zausner outlines a few alternatives, but what I would like to bring your attention to is the creative aspect:
“We and our environment express this complexity [of the turbulence of chaos] not only by creating works of art but also by creating and recreating ourselves. Applying metaphorical models from nonlinear dynamics to psychology and to the creative process allows us to realize that many aspects inherent in creating a work of art also have clinical correlates in transforming the self.” (p. 218)
Milton applied several metaphorical models—ocean, sand, war—and so have I to grasp the Chaos of the passage. Then, by taking my own metaphorical understanding into an essay early in week two, and into this article, I feel less afraid looking up or looking inside, for that matter. Whenever I sense turbulence, disjunction, or break away from an old pattern, I can recognise them as an opportunity for new ways of creative expression—and of course new ways of understanding my chaotic mind. But first I had to confront the “secrets of the hoary deep.”