Alexandersmap

    Category: Poetry

    • No Small Thing

      What does one do with the post after 2500 posts? We begin again, naturally. For what are we to do with the next but demonstrate that we’ve grown a bit in these hours? To spoon away at infinity is no small thing. And perhaps stop carrying on about numbers and immerse in poetry once again. Here’s one by Pablo Neruda that left me awestruck and stays with me still:

      I am one of those who live
      in the middle of the sea and close to the twilight,
      A little beyond those stones.

      When I came
      and saw what was happening
      I decided on the spot.

      The day had spread itself
      And everything was light
      And the sea was beating
      Like a salty lion,
      Many-handed.

      All that deserted space was singing
      And I, lost and awed,
      Looking toward the silence,
      Opened my mouth and said:
      “Mother of the foam,
      Expansive solitude,
      Here I will begin my own rejoicing,
      My particular poetry.”

      From then on I was never
      Let down by a single wave.
      I always found the flavor of the sky
      In the water, in the earth,
      And the wood and the sea burned together
      Through the lonely winters.

      I am grateful to the earth
      for having waited
      for me
      when the sky and sea came together
      like two lips touching;
      for that’s no small thing, no?—
      to have lived
      through one solitude to arrive at another,
      to feel oneself many things and recover wholeness.

      I love all the things there are,
      And of all fires
      Love is the only inexhaustible one;
      And that’s why I go from life to life,
      From guitar to guitar,
      And I have no fear
      Of light or of shade.

      And almost being earth myself,
      I spoon away at infinity.

      So no one can ever fail
      To find my doorless numberless house—
      There between dark stones,
      facing the flash
      of the violent salt,
      there we live, my woman and I,
      there we take root.
      Grant us help then.
      Help us to be more of the earth each day!
      Help us to be
      More the sacred foam,
      More the swish of the wave!
      — Pablo Neruda, This is where we live

      I realize I haven’t posted any of Pablo Neruda’s poetry on this blog before this one. It’s an oversight on my part, partly because of an inclination to post the entire poem, partly because I don’t speak Spanish and rely heavily on the translation. But what a translation! And with that in mind, I hope to explore more of his work in future posts. Semper discens, semper crescens (always learning, always growing).

    • Feed that Flame

      “I think of mythology as the homeland of the muses, the inspirers of art, the inspirers of poetry. To see life as a poem and yourself participating in a poem is what the myth does for you.”
      — Joseph Campbell, The Power of Myth

      Tell me we aren’t collectively living in an epic poem at the moment. These are tragic days. These are comic days. These are the days that test our character and faith in humanity. And we are not just the actors—we are the heroes on this journey of a lifetime. And so we must play our part. And so it is that some people rise up on the suffering of others, and some people rise up to defend all that is good in this world.

      The power of mythology is that it stirs something within us. When we listen, we connect with the timeless truth it conveys, and having made that connection, hear the call to contribute. Writing and poetry, painting and sculpture, photography and cinematography, theater and dance, music and performance—all are expressions of myth and a perpetuation of something greater than ourselves. Something the trolls fail to connect with and thus seek to destroy. Collectively we bring the beautiful to light.

      Myth works from the inside out as a spark of recognition as something ancient and profound within us that must grow and find expression. We all want to think of ourselves as heroes. The miracle is that this truly heroic character is hiding within us, waiting for oxygen and fuel. We must feed that flame and see where this epic journey takes us.

    • The Call to Creative

      “Et ignotas anuimum dimittit in artes” (“And he applies his mind to the obscure arts.”) — Ovid, Metamorphoses, VIII., 18.

      The great conversation brought me to this phrase. Joseph Campbell quoted James Joyce’s use of it as the epigraph of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and now I bring it to you, dear reader. Always find the primary source, the historian in me demands, even if that makes for an odd first paragraph. But here we are.

      But wait, there’s more. Ovid added, “naturamque nouat” (“and alters nature.)” in Metamorphoses, pointing to the transformative potential of creative work. It wasn’t that Joyce wasn’t showing the way, it was more an expectation that the reader would complete the assignment. In a world where so many are a bit lazy in following through to the end, isn’t it a jolt to find artists who expect us to keep up?

      Ah, but what are we doing here? Just what kind of blog post is this? Are we diving head first into latin? Are we indicting the general state of things today where so many don’t go deeper than the surface? Or are we doing what Campbell and Joyce did, and using Ovid to point to a life of creative work? Let’s call it an open-ended question as we walk the path of discovery together. And isn’t that what creative work is?

      Apply your mind to the obscure arts and alter nature. Be bold in this choice and find transformation, or bow to the demands of those who would have us follow the rules laid out for us. What shall it be, for you and me? Be bold, friend, and see just where it takes us. For we only have this short time together to make our dent in the universe.

    • What Belongs to Us?

      “Everything comes to us that belongs to us if we create the capacity to receive it.” — Rabindranath Tagore

      We know when we’re clicking on all cylinders just as we know when things aren’t going our way—by how we feel. We forget the physical sometimes when our brains try to dominate the conversation. It’s a good idea to take a deep breath now and then, if only to come back to our senses.

      There are days when I’m grateful that I write this blog, because it starts my days with thoughtfulness and random scraps of beauty collected along the journey. There are days when I consider doing something else with my time—usually when my ego gets in the way of reflection and deep thought. But writing is my way of opening up the receivers and letting in that which I wish to experience in this world. We can’t write about that which we haven’t first wrestled with. Artificial Intelligence (AI) may be a transformative force multiplier for searching and categorizing information, but wrestling with the truth within us is still the work of poets and philosophers.

      So what belongs to us? The stuff we accumulate? It will all be divided amongst our survivors one day. The things that matter most are the moments of truth and beauty we wring out of our time dancing with life. Being aware of this and going deeper still is where things get real. All the meaningless stuff swirls about us making noise for attention is just a distraction from the realization that this is it: we are here now and must do the best we can with what we have.

      So breathe deeply, feel the possibility of the moment and recognize the fragility of what we’re so often cavalier about. We’re all just borrowing moments from infinity. What belongs to us is now. What might we do with it?

    • Basking In It

      “Time is not slipping through our fingers, time is here forever, it is we who are slipping through the fingers of time.” — David Whyte, Time

      I was texting with a friend who is struggling to balance work with a toddler. She’s prioritizing appropriately, and to use her words, basking in it every day. And shouldn’t she? The diapers and sleepless nights will soon slide into recitals and homework, which will slip into college tours and wedding announcements.

      Tempus fugit: time flies. But when we turn that around and look at it as Whyte has shown us, we realize it’s been us all along, slipping into infinity. This can be depressing or beautiful, depending on how we choose to spend that time. So bask away, friend. Let those grains of sand tickle a little as they flow past in such a hurry.

    • What Would Do?

      And, if you have not been enchanted by this adventure—
          your life—
      what would do for you?
      — Mary Oliver, To Begin With, the Sweet Grass

      There’s still time today to find adventure. The day is still young, and we are young enough to be bold—and old enough to play this hand wisely. Seek adventure, as Thoreau whispers from his root-covered grave in Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. Be enchanted, Oliver whispers from her grave in Amarillo.

      And so we must heed the call, with the sum of who we are, to multiply our experiences. There is no deferring with living. Do the math: Every day we subtract another.

      Yes, these are distracting times, and things like adventure and enchantment may seem frivolous when there’s so much at stake in the world. But this is our time, and these are our days to be alive. Do something that stirs and inspires. The world will still be there, miserable as ever, when we return to it.

      What would do for you? What are you waiting for? Do. Be. While there’s still time.

    • Moments of Clarity

      no baby, if you’re going to create
      you’re going to create whether you work
      16 hours a day in a coal mine
      or
      you’re going to create in a small room with 3 children
      while you’re on
      welfare,
      you’re going to create with a part of your mind and your
      body blown
      away,
      you’re going to create blind
      crippled
      demented,
      you’re going to create with a cat crawling up your
      back while
      the whole city trembles in earthquake, bombardment,
      flood and fire,

      baby, air and light and time and space
      have nothing to do with it
      and don’t create anything
      except maybe a longer life to find
      new excuses
      for.
      — Charles Bukowski, air and light and time and space

      I heard from the daughter of an industry friend. He doesn’t have long now, she told me, and is spending this time in hospice with family and friends. I reached out knowing this, and to offer a few words that I know will reach him through her. In such situations, we must say it now, or know that it will be never. These moments of clarity are profound when someone reaches the end of their life, but we must remember we’re all just a step behind them ourselves. Memento mori. So for gods sake, carpe diem already!

      We have so many excuses available to us to avoid telling someone how we feel, or to defer exercise and writing and creating beauty in a world insistent on growing darker. But it grows darker precisely because we defer the call of creating. This is our verse, after all, and it could all end today for us. What will we leave behind as our beacon of truth and courage?

      We must put all that energy used to create excuses aside and finally listen to the muse before our opportunity fades away forever. Produce something beautiful. For all the chaos and distraction, there will not be a better time than now. We’re going to create now, or know that it will be never.

    • To Be In This World

      Bless the notebook that I always carry in my pocket.
      And the pen.
      Bless the words with which I try to say what I see, think, or feel. With gratitude for the grace of the earth.
      The expected and the exception, both.
      For all the hours I have been given to be in this world.
      — Mary Oliver, Good Morning

      When the world turns us brittle, a bit of Mary Oliver poetry helps make the soul pliable once again. The poem quoted above is the same one that brought us the lines, “Stay young, always, in the theater of your mind.” and “It must be a great disappointment to God if we are not dazzled at least ten times a day.” I can’t very well put every line she ever wrote in this blog, but surely I’ve covered a lot of them. For all the exceptional lines, the one that resonates for me is action-oriented: To be in this world.

      A couple of nights ago I walked out at dusk and looked at Venus, Jupiter and Mars marching in a neat line across the sky. Orion, ever the hunter, stood ready to release his arrow. These are days we’ll remember until they scrub the hard drives and burn the books, but the infinite remains indifferent to the drama unfolding here. Knowing it’s a short run, we must return our focus to our own verse, whatever it might be for us. A creative, productive life demands our full participation.

      Perhaps it’s the poet in me, but I believe that gratitude and wonder are the two key ingredients to a meaningful day. When we look at the whole hot mess that is our lives in this moment, we must accept the miracle that we’re here at all. We cannot be forever distracted by the fools on the hill, letting our precious life slip away. Be here, now. And perhaps, like Mary Oliver, have the audacity to do something exceptional with the opportunity.

    • What Carries the Day

      I went on a lunch date with my bride Saturday. We didn’t talk politics, we talked about new dinner plates and the house and things like that. Sometimes the present is both beautiful and awful, and the only thing that determines which wins the moment is what we choose to focus on.

      There are plenty of reasons to feel down about the state of the world. There are plenty of reasons to feel joyful. As reasonable people, it’s possible to feel both at the same time. But we ought to be asking ourselves, which carry the day? A poem by Charles Bukowski, formatted in that Charles Bukowski way, comes to mind:

      some people
      grind away
      making their
      unhappiness
      the ultimate
      factor
      of their
      existence
      until
      finally
      they are
      just
      automatically
      unhappy,
      their
      suspicious
      upset
      snarling
      selves
      gringing

      on
      and
      at
      and
      for
      and
      through

      their only
      relief
      being

      to meet
      another
      unhappy
      person

      or
      to
      create
      one.
      — Charles Bukowski, downers

      When we get so distracted by the state of things, we sometimes forget to do the joyful things that make living an event worthy of our time. We can create a wake of misery behind us, or we can leave a ripple of joy. We should ask, just how do we want to be remembered? But let’s get right to the heart of the matter: just how do we want to move through this one go at life?

    • The Total of Our Doing

      we are always asked
      to understand the other person’s
      viewpoint
      no matter how
      out-dated
      foolish or
      obnoxious.
      one is asked
      to view
      their total error
      their life-waste
      with
      kindliness,
      especially if they are
      aged.
      but age
      is the total of
      our doing.
      they have aged
      badly
      because they have
      lived
      out of focus,
      they have refused to
      see.
      not their fault?
      whose fault?
      mine?
      I am asked to hide
      my viewpoint
      from them
      or fear of their
      fear.
      age is no crime
      but the shame
      of a deliberately
      wasted
      life
      among so many
      deliberately
      wasted
      lives
      is.
      — Charles Bukowski, Be Kind

      We have all lived out of focus at times. Sometimes the good days make up for the bad. Sometimes. Like pulling an all-nighter to finish a paper we’ve procrastinated on, sometimes we pull focus out just in the nick of time to move the chains forward in our lives. But sometimes we wait a beat too long and the opportunity is lost forever. The lesson of course is to focus, but instead we blame it on fate or bad luck or the immigrants who moved in down the street who got straight to work.

      The answer has always been in focus. What kind of a life do we want to have? Why are we distracting ourselves with all of these things that pull us away from focusing on achieving that? What small, measurable step might we take right now to move us closer to the dream?

      The total of our doing keeps pace with wherever we are in this moment. How does it look so far? Stop being so outraged at the state of the world and do the things in our control. Look around and focus on the essential. To do otherwise is to waste more of this life that is already flying by so very quickly.