The legacy of the new era that followed is surely morally mixed, but the Plague, and the adaptability of its survivors, was directly responsible for the world we know today, because people could, and were forced to, take societal and intellectual risks. The Protestant Reformation, the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution, the development of empirical science and medicine—in short, the birth of the modern world—all owe their origins in large part to the catastrophe of the Plague. These changes were almost as rapid and far-reaching as the impact of technology today.
The nature of human life is essentially “nasty, brutish and short,” and that’s been the case for the vast majority of people, men and women, throughout history, until only the last hundred years or so. Most people suffered unimaginably from disease, poverty and loss. Most people led lives of utter obscurity.
But it doesn’t mean their lives weren’t meaningful or important. In fact, even with all our options today, we are in the throes of what philosophers have dubbed “the meaning crisis.” We have more ability to connect with each other than ever before, but we don’t know who we are, why we’re here, or what our lives are even for. And that extends into a deep suspicion of others. If our own lives feel meaningless, then the lives of our neighbors do, too—except to serve as Likers of Posts.
Surely existence means more than that, and always has. But do we unconsciously see medieval people as less important, less evolved, because the vast majority of their lives were private and obscure? Do we see medieval women as exceptionally oppressed and devoid of choices? Wasn’t it possible for them to have rich lives—inner lives, connections with family and friends—without being widely known, without having their names publicly written down? Did no one truly live until our generation?
A Cloud of Outrageous Blue is, in many ways, a book about history itself. History is only the story of human beings making choices, and of how those choices intersect. We’re all making choices in real time, even as teenagers, that will impact the future for generations. But not because of what we post online or the status we achieve—rather, by how we think and act out what we believe, about our place in our families, towns, countries and the world.
What would our blue-toothed nun say about us, across the span of time? Might she, in fact, judge us as having too many options, too much leisure, and thinking too highly of ourselves?
This woman lived, as many did, a hidden life with little influence. She loved the people within her own small community, with the daily monotony of a monastic schedule. She painted her pictures not to make a name for herself, but as an act of private devotion and service to whoever would read her books. We don’t know her name, and yet her body was full of gemstones. She lived, and died, and the treasure within her was absorbed back into the soil.
Yet here we are today, talking about how she’s blown open our understanding of medieval women, their lives and choices, the trust placed in their capable hands. Who knows how much we today are affected by millions of people like her—by all the small choices that make up one life?
* * *
As an author and artist, a family member and friend, I’m trying to retrain my mind to think this way. I’m an outward-facing extrovert with big dreams, yet I’m recommitting to the small, the personal, the human-scale, not just the epic, public, and world-changing. I’m trying to go deep rather than wide—to be a better neighbor, whoever my “neighbor” might be. The more I focus on who and what are right in front of me, the more peace I feel, and the less anxiety about things outside of my control.
Every generation has its challenges. In A Cloud of Outrageous Blue, Edyth discovers that her uniqueness is precisely what is needed to answer the call of her generation’s crisis. Because of her gifts of perception, she’s able to find a miraculous cure for the Plague. But not everyone accepts it. Only dozens partake of it. And because Edyth’s life is hidden, difficult and short, access to the cure is ultimately limited because of suspicion, fear and offense. Yet her decision to say yes—to her gifts and calling, to sacrificial love for her friends, to hope—opens doors for the future, for rediscovery.
The past is the gift we’ve been given. The future is ours to give.
* “Medieval Women’s Early Involvement in Manuscript Production Suggested by Lapis Lazuli Identification in Dental Calculus,” (with A. Radini, M. Tromp, A. Beach, E. Tong, C. Speller, M. McCormick, J. V. Dudgeon, M. J. Collins, F. Rühli, R. Kröger, and C. Warinner), Science Advances 5 (1), January 2019.