Two things that captured me today

First, a quote from Thich Naht Hahn's Breathe, You Are Alive: Sutra on the Full Awareness of Breathing:

"If we know the art of looking deeply, we wll discover reality as it truly is. By doing so, we remove all erors nd wrong perceptions. This is liberation through understanding, salvation by knowledge."

I was deeply moved by the Ravenclaw desire to learn our way to goodness.

Second, a poem:

Happiness by Jorge Luis Borges

Whoever embraces a woman is Adam. The woman is Eve.
Everything happens for the first time.
I saw something white in the sky. They tell me it is the moon, but
what can I do with a word and a mythology.
Trees frighten me a little. They are so beautiful.
The calm animals come closer so that I may tell them their names.
The books in the library have no letters. They spring forth when I open them.
Leafing through the atlas I project the shape of Sumatra.
Whoever lights a match in the dark is inventing fire.
Inside the mirror an Other waits in ambush.
Whoever looks at the ocean sees England.
Whoever utters a line of Liliencron has entered into battle.
I have dreamed Carthage and the legions that destroyed Carthage.
I have dreamed the sword and the scale.
Praised be the love wherein there is no possessor and no possessed, but both surrender.
Praised be the nightmare, which reveals to us that we the power to create hell.
Whoever goes down to a river goes down to the Ganges.
Whoever looks at an hourglass sees the dissolution of an empire.
Whoever plays with a dagger foretells the death of Caesar.
Whoever dreams is every human being.
In the desert I saw the young Sphinx, which has just been sculpted.
There is nothing else so ancient under the sun.
Everything happens for the first time, but in a way that is eternal.
Whoever reads my words is inventing them.

Today, hiking was the walk out of Eden into the rest of the world, soaking my feet in a puddle was a first bath with the kicking and splashing of new fashioned toes, and longing was the first separation of sky and earth when the world was created.

Kansas's "Dust in the Wind" and the P Personality Type

I really love the song "Dust in the Wind." It makes me feel calm and relaxed and can cheer me up when I feel oppressed by troubles. According to Aaron, this is very weird. He thinks it is nihilistic and miserable, and it makes him want to hurl. (Well, he would never actually say anything so dramatic, but that's a pretty accurate picture, I think.) I've been wanting to write a post for a while explaining why I like the song and how I can interpret it as positiive and not nihilistic. Aaron says that all of the following is ridiculous, so consider yourself warned.

Here's the song, for those sad people who have never heard it:



First, let me say that I think the music itself, especially the violin and the sound of the singer's voice, is haunting and moving. It feels important, like it cuts right to the heart of what it is to be human and to be alive, and I would be drawn in to believing almost anything set to this music. But I think an analysis of the lyrics with some personal notes about my personality will back up what the music makes me feel.

First, a thing or two about me. On the Myers-Brigg test, I score a pretty strong P. This means that I like to live without a lot of structure or planning or rules and that I can take whatever kinds of experiences that come to me without getting too ruffled. I don't love permanence; I prefer things that are transitory and ephemeral. That alone may make the difference in how Aaron and I see this song. The idea of things passing away is lovely and bittersweet for me, promising loss but also the empty space where new things can happen. The idea of things passing away is just loss for him. He likes to put things in a proper order and for them to stay that way.

The song begins:
I close my eyes
Only for a moment and the moment's gone
All my dreams
Pass before my eyes a curiosity

Dust in the wind
All they are is dust in the wind

It's true that moments pass away and don't last, no matter how much people might want them to. The idea that we miss things when our eyes are closed is very powerful to me. Because our lives are so short and because we and all of our dreams will be nothing but dust after this short life, it's a crime to look away from the things we value even for a moment.

Same old song
Just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do
Crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind

Rather than feeling unimportant and forgotten because our short lives are just a tiny part of human history and of the history of the world, I choose to feel connected. To be a drop of water in a sea of achievement, love, passion, and all the glories of humanity, to be a drop of water in the sea of natural history, to have a place in the movement of evolution, is to be connected with all the meaning people have created, to be a part of the nature and its cycles. How could those things be unimportant?

Aaron sees hopelessness and futility in the idea that all the works of humankind crumble in the end. I don't. I think of the crumbled civilizations of the past, the Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, and even the fictional Camelot and Atlantis, and I cannot feel that they were futile. They learned; they built; they invented; they wrote. But they crumbled, and though this is sad, it is a reminder for me to enjoy the learning and building and inventing and writing and the products of all these now. Nothing in human life is permanent, and so I have to live in the moment with my eyes open, sucking the marrow out of life, knowing that things do not last forever. Refusing to see that my life now and the civilization that I love are just as fleeting as the Egyptians or the Greeks would prevent me from appreciating them fully right now.

Now don't hang on
Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and Sky
It slips away
And all your money won't another minute buy

Dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
All we are is dust in the wind
Dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind
Everything is dust in the wind

Futility doesn't lie in the fact that things don't last forever; it lies in trying to cling to things that are passing away, in not facing the bittersweet reality of impermanence. Staying alive, but in an unending state of pain and misery; continuing a relationship that is no longer fulfilling; and holding stubbornly to an old dream that one has outgrown, these are the kinds of hanging on that the song cautions against, hanging on and refusing to see that nothing lasts forever. And finally, the song reminds us that living life and pursuing values are primary, that they end someday, and that money (and I might include fame and power and any other byproduct of value pursuit) cannot do away with mortality. In the end, we will all be dust, and by embracing the reality of the impermanence of human life, we can pursue values with all the fervor that limited time creates.

When I've done something that I wish I had done differently and when I am experiencing troubles or stress or sadness, this song reminds me that all things change, all things rise and then fall, all this pass away. I can look forward to a future that is not the same. It will be worse in some ways, no doubt, loss is a part of human life. But in other ways the future will be better. I like the idea that for good or bad, things change, and life will never become stagnant or boring.

I'd be interested to know how many of you see the song my way and how many think that Aaron reads it correctly as nihilistic. I'd also love to know if other people who are Myers-Brigg Ps see it my way. Is there a connection between my love of change and my dislike of much order and my reading of this song? Let me know what you think.

"Funeral Blues" by W. H. Auden

If you've ever seen Four Weddings and a Funeral, you've heard this poem. I encountered it for the first time in that movie and loved it ever since for its passion and its use of detail to make us feel the grief of the speaker. Read the poem here.

I like "Funeral Blues" because of its selfish portrayal of love and grief. The love that the speaker felt for the lost lover was world-changing. The lover became the speaker's cardinal directions, the way the speaker oriented himself in the world. And the grief is just as self-centered. The whole world, people, animals, inanimate objects, are all changed by the loss. This view is of a person wholly consumed by emotion and seeing the world, because he sees himself and his lover as the center of it, as wholly consumed.

Click below to listen to my reading of the poem.

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Pied Beauty by Gerard Manley Hopkins

This is another post in which I share some of my Mini-Con poetry appreciation course. Today, for those of you who want to enjoy poetry more, I give you this piece of advice: Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater.

I think Objectivists are particularly prone to this error because we want so much to have clean, wholesome lives, full of rational values that bring us joy. But in our desire to judge and to exclude valueless things from our lives, we sometimes mistake something that isn't perfect for something that is valueless.

In that way, out goes an old tennis partner who is religious. Out goes contact with a mixed family members. And, equally as tragic (at least to me), out goes really quality art that has themes in conflict with our values.

It's important to remember that the idea of God has been inspiring people to write poems and music for thousands of years. The Greeks did it, but it's easy to overlook their Gods because no one believes in them anymore. It can be harder for us to overlook religious art that promotes and supports the religions that are still around. But I hope you will do it, and here's why.

So much of the great art of Western Civilization has religious themes. If you chucked out things dealing with God, you'd have to chuck out Milton, Handel, Bach, John Donne, Michelangelo, Arthurian legends, and Sacred Harp hymn singing. And you'd miss a lot of real value.

It would also be easy to chuck out things that have altruism, destiny, or "negative emotions," but I hope you will take my advice and not throw the baby out with the bathwater. By just letting the religion or destiny be in the poem without obsessing about it, you can find all the other values and the real human experience lying within the poem.

I am posting my reading of Gerard Manley Hopkins's "Pied Beauty" to illustrate this advice. The poem references God and is ostensibly about the wonder of God's creation, but underneath the religion is a joyous appreciation of the real world.

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To His Coy Mistress by Andrew Marvell

In honor of Rory, who loves this poem very much, I will give you my recording of "To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell.

In my Mini-Con poetry appreciation course, I told the audience that for the uninitiated, older English vocabulary and phrasing can be kind of daunting. I suggested that, when reading poems with language that might be a barrier to understanding, knowing in advance what the poem is about can help make the experience more enjoyable.

Andrew Marvell's poetry, written in the mid 1600s, is certainly old enough and different enough from modern language to give a newbie fits, as is the poetry of Shakespeare, Donne, Milton, Samuel Johnson, Alexander Pope, Robert Herrick, and about a million other poets that are really good. To make these pre-1800 poets accessible, I suggest googling for summaries and background. I think Marvell is actually pretty accessible as pre-1800 poets go, but I've read it so many hundreds of times that it is hard for me to judge just how accessible it might really be.

It's not cheating! You are not using these sources to lie to your high school English teacher about whether you read the poem. And you aren't cheating yourself, either. The joy of poetry (for the layman, not the obsessed devotee) is in the appreciation of its beautiful sound and its powerful meaning. If going to a summary first helps you grasp the meaning and be able to enjoy the sound (instead of worrying over your lack of understanding), do it!

Anyway, to illustrate this point, I gave my explanation of Marvell's poem first, and then I'll read it.

Basically, this poem is proof that men have always been men. Back then, in the mid 1600s, just as now, guys will use whatever means they have to get into a woman's pants. Rich ones use presents. Athletic ones use prowess. Good looking ones use their physical beauty. Smart ones use their brains. Apparently, poetic ones in the 1600s used the common literary motif of "carpe diem."

In this poem, the speaker tries to get his girlfriend to give it up by warning her that death is coming. He would woo her properly if only he could, but time is against them! They better do it right now, cause really, do you want to die a virgin?

Now, if he had just come right about and told her these things, no way was he gonna get laid. But Marvell's speaker has the talent of a 17th century metaphysical poet in his pocket, and he weilds it well. I have no doubt that he got what he wanted. I can't resist his pleas now, and it's 2010. Marvell has been dead for more than 300 years, and he is seducing me from the grave.

So, while I find the poem both hilarious (I mean really, the guy mentions worms invading her dead vagina as an inducement for sex) and compelling (He's so poetical that I would actually fall for that worm/vagina thing), I also find its carpe diem message inspiring. He's right, even if manipulative, that life is too short to pass up joy and pleasure and love and living in the moment.

And it would really suck to die a virgin.

Here's my reading of the poem:

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Tennyson's "Ulysses"

Now that I have mastered the art of putting audio on my blog (and you would be ashamed of me if you had any idea how long it took me), I thought I would give you my reading of Alfred, Lord Tennyson's "Ulysses," my second favorite poem in the world. Again, this recording came from my Mini-Con poetry appreciation course.

During the course, I used different poems to illustrate some tips that I thought might help the layman appreciate poetry more. I enjoy poems much more when I have some context, including understanding the circumstances in which the poem was written, knowing something about the poet, and having the general understanding of the subject matter that the poet might have expected his audience to have. I used "Ulysses" to illustrate the enjoyment that can be gained by understanding the subject matter of the poem, especially if the author probably expected the readers in his time to know about it.

"Ulysses" was written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (who was, in my opinion, a god among men) in Victorian England. Ulysses is the Latin name for the Greek hero Odysseus. Odysseus, a character in Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, was a sly, crafty, intelligent man who thought up the Trojan Horse trick and then had about 14 million adventures on his way home for the Trojan War. Most of you probably know those stories, and if you don't, oh my god, go read them now. In the Odyssey, a prophet foretells that Ulysses will make it home to his wife Penelope and his son Telemachus (remember that name) but will leave again on an adventure.

But Tennyson's Ulysses isn't completely like the ancient Ulysses. Tennyson's has a thirst for knowledge and a desire to explore new places that isn't there in the Iliad or the Odyssey. And even stranger, our Victorian Ulysses seems to have a dislike for governing and politics. That's a big departure from the Greek presentation of him. But, what you may not know (that Tennyson's Victorian audience certain did) is that Ulysses appears again in another epic poem - Dante's Inferno.

Except now, instead of being lauded as a hero, Ulysses is being punished in the eighth circle of hell. The medieval Christian church didn't value trickery and slyness like the Greeks. In fact, Dante finds Ulysses in the hell reserved for "Counselors of Fraud," all for his wartime sneaky strategies. Because Dante didn't have access to Homer (only to other writers riffing off of Homer's stories), he gives Ulysses's earthly story a different ending. Since Tennyson stuck with Homer's ending, I won't tell you about that. (Go read the Inferno! You'll love it!)

The important thing that Tennyson got from Dante was a new portrayal of Ulysses's character. Dante portrays Ulysses as a man who lusts after adventure and knowledge to the detriment of his duty; he neglects his (god-given) family and civic responsibilities to go and explore the world. Tennyson latches on to that trait, but without condemning him for it (cause Tennyson rocks!). Our Ulysses, as Tennyson writes him, thirsts for adventure and knowledge, but is heroic because of that thirst and because he will act on it.

Now, with all that context in mind, here is Tennyson's "Ulysses":

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A New Favorite of Mine by Edna St. Vincent Millay

On the recommendation of Bill Brown in a comment on my blog, I have been exploring a poet that is very little known to me, Edna St. Vincent Millay. I thought I would share one of my favorites so far with you guys and tell you what I like about it. And Bill, if you have any particular recommendations, I'd love to hear them.


What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why (Sonnet XLIII)
by Edna St. Vincent Millay


What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.


I really identify with this poem, especially lately. I've made some new and very young friends (I'm looking at you, Shea, Alyssa, Rory, and Miranda) in the last several months, and while they are rocking awesome, they make me remember my age.

I'm really not that old, only 31, but when I see them being all 20 and 21, I can see, in a way I usually don't, how much I have changed in that 10 years. I see myself more content and stable and rational and fulfilled, but I feel a loss of wildness and spontaneity and violent emotions. To be completely truthful, I sometimes miss the drama and the upheaval, the new loves and the sowing of oats.

This sonnet really captures my sense that the old days have left a permanent impression on me, but that the details have faded a little. I remember my teens and twenties as a feeling and a mood, rather than a series of events. The image of "ghosts . . . that tap and sigh upon the glass" is just how I remember the past - insistent but filmy.

I like the description of nostalgia as "a quiet pain," and I love that the speaker, like me, still hurts a little that the "unremembered lads" will not lie beside her again. She doesn't hurt for the specific people (nor do I); they are "unremembered." But she mourns that the past is gone irrevocably.

I'm happier now than I was in my youth, and I am not afraid of growing older. As far as my experience goes, life just keeps getting better. Though the speaker says that she is in winter, and I am clearly not, I can still identify with her look backwards. Summer doesn't last forever, but fall comes after, and it's a beautiful and rich season too. Yet, I am always sad for the things that are gone, for the books that have been finished, for the places already seen, for the people known and loved and gone. And I love that Edna St. Vincent Millay captures that sadness so well in this bittersweet sonnet.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

Here's a recording of me reading one of the poems from my Mini-Con poetry appreciation class. I want to share lots of the content with the readers of my blog, but you guys will have to forgive me my many flaws, including sound quality, as this was recorded with a camera and not anything super special.

But still, my motto is that the perfect is the enemy of the good. So here's my reading of Dylan Thomas's "Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night."

I read this poem after explaining that knowing something about the circumstances of a poem's composition could increase the reader's enjoyment. Thomas wrote this poem near the end of his father's life, as his dad was going blind. Thomas hated seeing his father give up and stop living; he wanted his dad to exert himself to action, to go out with a bang instead of a whimper. I like this poem so much because it is such a rousing a call to value pursuit and because it's forward driving rhythm and its repetition really do sound like a person trying to argue and cajole another into action.

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