Thanks, Robert Frost, David Ray
Do you have hope for the future?
someone asked Robert Frost, toward the end.
Yes, and even for the past, he replied,
that it will turn out to have been all right
for what it was, something we can accept,
mistakes made by the selves we had to be,
not able to be, perhaps, what we wished,
or what looking back half the time it seems
we could so easily have been, or ought...
The future, yes, and even for the past,
that it will become something we can bear.
And I too, and my children, so I hope,
will recall as not too heavy the tug
of those albatrosses I sadly placed
upon their tender necks.
Hope for the past, yes, old Frost,
your words provide that courage,
and it brings strange peace that itself passes
into past, easier to bear because
you said it, rather casually, as snow
went on falling in Vermont years ago.
Wednesday, 10 October 2007
poetry 4: the more loving one
The More Loving One, W.H. Auden
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now i see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.
How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.
Admirer as I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now i see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.
Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.
poetry 3: friends
To My Friends, Primo Levi
Dear friends,
I say friends here
In the larger sense of the word:
Wife, sister, associates, relatives,
Schoolmates,men and women,
Persons seen only once
Or frequented all my life:
Provided that between us, for at least a moment,
Was drawn a segment,
A well defined chord.
I speak for you, companions on a journey
Dense, not devoid of effort,
And also for you who have lost
The soul, the spirit, the wish to live.
Or nobody or somebody, or perhaps only one, or you
Who are reading me: remember the time
Before the wax hardened,
When each of us was like a seal.
Each of us carries the imprint
Of a friend met along the way;
In each the trace of each.
For good or evil
In wisdom or in folly
Each stamped by each.
Now that time presses urgently,
And the tasks are finished,
To all of you the modest wish
That the Autumn may be long and mild.
Dear friends,
I say friends here
In the larger sense of the word:
Wife, sister, associates, relatives,
Schoolmates,men and women,
Persons seen only once
Or frequented all my life:
Provided that between us, for at least a moment,
Was drawn a segment,
A well defined chord.
I speak for you, companions on a journey
Dense, not devoid of effort,
And also for you who have lost
The soul, the spirit, the wish to live.
Or nobody or somebody, or perhaps only one, or you
Who are reading me: remember the time
Before the wax hardened,
When each of us was like a seal.
Each of us carries the imprint
Of a friend met along the way;
In each the trace of each.
For good or evil
In wisdom or in folly
Each stamped by each.
Now that time presses urgently,
And the tasks are finished,
To all of you the modest wish
That the Autumn may be long and mild.
Wednesday, 19 September 2007
believing - the whys and wherefores
this is NOT going to be an existential piece... or some philosophical diatribe/ defensive sermonette. at all. i'd be the last person to do that. these are my thoughts - as they come to me, and as i try to put them together in a way that i can draw from and lean on.
firstly, there's a side of me that thinks using the word "sense" in matters of religion (which are, intrinsically, matters of the heart, the psyche... the "irrational") is somewhat contradictory. but given our collective limited lexicon - and english being the only language i speak - here we are.
i believe God exists. and i believe in the tenets Christ put forward. this is important to me. and the thing is, at times it's an obvious choice - but many more times a conscious one. and while it does not always make "sense" to me, it always seems to me to be the most... sensible. and i want to note why. not for the purposes of buying anyone over, but for me. it's my way of figuring things out. cos i'm not in this for the alleged afterlife - i'm not even sure i buy the idea that one exists. neither am i in it for the "morality" (don't get me started on this one!). and i'm certainly not in it for the "culture", or the "religion". not for the "Greater Power". i would REALLY be fine not having one. i'm not in it because it's "the only way". i'm not even it because i'm certain. the truth is i'm not certain at all - and a lot of the time, that really shakes me.
but i am in it. and deliberately so. and sometimes i doubt myself - and yet everytime in the end, i choose to continue. i wake up every morning and i CHOOSE to believe. the same way i choose to believe there are eight planets (really, what would i know?!), the same way i believe - on some subconcious level - that when i stand, my legs won't give way beneath me, the same way i choose to believe that when i make a rendez-vous for tomorrow, i'll actually still be around to make good on it, the same way i choose to believe that my next bar of dark chocolate will taste as good as the last: it's part information, part past precedent, part hope. then there's the part that is TRULY blind faith (to an extent that is true of no other belief in my life). and i needed to know why i choose to believe what i do every morning. even when it makes me seem stupid to me. *sigh* especially then.
this will be a continual work in progress.
so, here's why:
1. GRACE. and Christ. that is at least 99.9% of it (well, at least for me). grace. and trying to figure out how to get it right.
2. thankfulness. i can't imagine being showered with goodness, and having no one to thank! it's part of the joy for me. and is, as such, very important. so i thank Him.
3. forced introspection. being inherently averse to introspection as i am, it's good to have something that almost "forces" (for want of a better word) to undertake it. so i get to think about how i may have wronged myself. where i could have wronged you or anyone else. where i could have been better. where i made the same mistake i sought forgiveness for just two days ago. to whom i owe redress. why i need to try harder. it's necessary.
4. prayer. i'm a talker! and now there's always someone there to listen - whether or not there is, in fact, someone to listen. except that there is. (this is what happens when i get inside my head!)
5. letting go. that's actually a big one. wow. letting it all alone. being cognizant of the point at which i come to the end of my bit of rope.
firstly, there's a side of me that thinks using the word "sense" in matters of religion (which are, intrinsically, matters of the heart, the psyche... the "irrational") is somewhat contradictory. but given our collective limited lexicon - and english being the only language i speak - here we are.
i believe God exists. and i believe in the tenets Christ put forward. this is important to me. and the thing is, at times it's an obvious choice - but many more times a conscious one. and while it does not always make "sense" to me, it always seems to me to be the most... sensible. and i want to note why. not for the purposes of buying anyone over, but for me. it's my way of figuring things out. cos i'm not in this for the alleged afterlife - i'm not even sure i buy the idea that one exists. neither am i in it for the "morality" (don't get me started on this one!). and i'm certainly not in it for the "culture", or the "religion". not for the "Greater Power". i would REALLY be fine not having one. i'm not in it because it's "the only way". i'm not even it because i'm certain. the truth is i'm not certain at all - and a lot of the time, that really shakes me.
but i am in it. and deliberately so. and sometimes i doubt myself - and yet everytime in the end, i choose to continue. i wake up every morning and i CHOOSE to believe. the same way i choose to believe there are eight planets (really, what would i know?!), the same way i believe - on some subconcious level - that when i stand, my legs won't give way beneath me, the same way i choose to believe that when i make a rendez-vous for tomorrow, i'll actually still be around to make good on it, the same way i choose to believe that my next bar of dark chocolate will taste as good as the last: it's part information, part past precedent, part hope. then there's the part that is TRULY blind faith (to an extent that is true of no other belief in my life). and i needed to know why i choose to believe what i do every morning. even when it makes me seem stupid to me. *sigh* especially then.
this will be a continual work in progress.
so, here's why:
1. GRACE. and Christ. that is at least 99.9% of it (well, at least for me). grace. and trying to figure out how to get it right.
2. thankfulness. i can't imagine being showered with goodness, and having no one to thank! it's part of the joy for me. and is, as such, very important. so i thank Him.
3. forced introspection. being inherently averse to introspection as i am, it's good to have something that almost "forces" (for want of a better word) to undertake it. so i get to think about how i may have wronged myself. where i could have wronged you or anyone else. where i could have been better. where i made the same mistake i sought forgiveness for just two days ago. to whom i owe redress. why i need to try harder. it's necessary.
4. prayer. i'm a talker! and now there's always someone there to listen - whether or not there is, in fact, someone to listen. except that there is. (this is what happens when i get inside my head!)
5. letting go. that's actually a big one. wow. letting it all alone. being cognizant of the point at which i come to the end of my bit of rope.
Tuesday, 14 August 2007
fsg 1
"I am not a great man, but sometimes I think the impersonal and objective equality of my talent and the sacrifices of it, in pieces, to preserve its essential value has some sort of epic grandeur."
(F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940), U.S. author. Letter, 1940, to his daughter Frances Scott Fitzgerald. The Crack-Up, ed. Edmund Wilson (1945). The words "some sort of epic grandeur" were used by Matthew J. Bruccoli as a title for his 1981 biography of Fitzgerald.)
just endearing...
(F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896-1940), U.S. author. Letter, 1940, to his daughter Frances Scott Fitzgerald. The Crack-Up, ed. Edmund Wilson (1945). The words "some sort of epic grandeur" were used by Matthew J. Bruccoli as a title for his 1981 biography of Fitzgerald.)
just endearing...
poetry 2: mortality
Spring and Fall: To a Young Child, G M Hopkins
Márgarét, are you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
(and how!)
Márgarét, are you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leáves, líke the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! ás the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you wíll weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sórrow's spríngs áre the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What heart heard of, ghost guessed:
It ís the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for.
(and how!)
poetry 1: the dunce
Le cancre - Jacques Prévert
Il dit non avec la tête
Mais il dit oui avec le coeur
Il dit oui à ce qu'il aime
Il dit non au professeur
Il est debout
On le questionne
Et tous les problèmes sont posés
Soudain le fou rire le prend
Et il efface tout
Les chiffres et les mots
Les dates et les noms
Les phrases et les pièges
Et malgré les menaces du maître
Sous les huées des enfants prodiges
Avec des craies de toutes les couleurs
Sur le tableau noir du malheur
Il dessine le visage du bonheur.
Il dit non avec la tête
Mais il dit oui avec le coeur
Il dit oui à ce qu'il aime
Il dit non au professeur
Il est debout
On le questionne
Et tous les problèmes sont posés
Soudain le fou rire le prend
Et il efface tout
Les chiffres et les mots
Les dates et les noms
Les phrases et les pièges
Et malgré les menaces du maître
Sous les huées des enfants prodiges
Avec des craies de toutes les couleurs
Sur le tableau noir du malheur
Il dessine le visage du bonheur.
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