Sunday, May 11, 2008

In Brackets

I walk outside and see a tree (one of many trees), a late bloomer. It is still shedding its last leaves from Fall and is budding red blossoms when all the other trees are green, pushing for Summer and Summer's bounty.

A man runs to my greening lawn. Seeing me on the porch he stops running, as though I would judge him for his hurry, trying to save the face of a stranger, and once he thinks he's out of my sight starts running again.

But I don't really care. I think (in truth) he should slow down and miss his bus. He should take time to be late for work and watch the starlings come together in pairs.

I think about editing. I don't want to write first person, don't want to say Summer or Spring when for me it's Winter or Fall. What I want is to say to you all that there's more to this than just Roman script and lettering, more than just the words can describe.

This is about heart. This is about reason. This is about finding ones place in a fragmented world and how at times words of fiction are more important than fact and science (matters).

And this story, that goes no further than the front steps where I see Spring and Fall and humans running, is what it is.

19 comments:

Honour said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Honour said...

This is *very* good, beautiful in fact ... how select words are in brackets throughout ... how you narrate, while reflecting on your role as a narrator, as the narrator is so often in brackets but we forget ... it's like an ode to the power of words. It certainly appeals to both heart and reason.! p.s. I saw in Zenspace that you went to that narrative conference - I'm so jealous! I wanted to go to that - one of my coworkers went. I hope it was good ...

human being said...

you know Jon, i believe artists (in general sense of the word) are the most fortunate poeple in the world... several reasons for this... one is because they dream three-fold...
and you know how dreams are important... they help us to know our self and its problems better and even to find the solutions to them... they are the remedy for a dis-eased self...
i was in my early 20s when i came to discover their real power and you cannot imagine what i gained through them... single-handedly i cured my Self of all the pains little by little ...and helped a score of friends, relatives, students,...
(see how crows crow... brag?!!!
:D)
artists are fortunate since they have three kinds of dreams... one, their dreams at the time of sleep as others... another, their artworks illustrating their pains as an individual...and third, their artworks depicting those archetypal pains and emotions coming from the collective unconscious of the whole humans...
they are related and narrated symbolically ... we should decode them... and once the Rosseta Stone is found ... you can communicate with the whole bunch of the beings within and without...now you know their tongue...
you can listen to that late bloomer tree and immediately undersatnd why it is in doubt -- half way between a fall and a spring...
you can understnad why it want to stay and why it want to go on...

you can interact with that hurried man suppressing his true self under the hackneyed forms of everyday life... and also you can appreciate the rebellious persona who would like to encourage him to shatter his LONELY singular reality to watch starlings in PAIRS.

the symbols shower... we should find the connection... put them in clusters... to find the inherent shape -- the theme... all the images and symbols here connote a transitional period... when one is half-way between two phases... the tree between the fall and the spring.... the man/persona between reality -- common sense -- and truth (or his truthful emotions)... between being single or a pair...
the persona again is in doubt(half way between two decisions) to edit or not... to write in first person or not... even the text... the script is in a doubtful state... it is somewhere between the conventional meaning of the words and the true sense boiling in the mind of the persona...

as the writer goes on, becomes more straightforward on this theme... reason/heart... fiction/fact...

what this talkative crow wants to add is this... lots of symptoms there... manifesting one single pain... the pain of doubt... a pendulum swinging between two poles... this is one of those archetypal collective pains...

the remedy:
the pain itself
kind of Homeopathy....
why do we sufferfrom doubt? because we should part from one thing to go to something else... parting is pain... desire is pain, too.

but let's pause ... the same way a pendulum has got a very short insensible pause in each swing...
if you can pause .... and stop that judging mind inheriting all the philosophical doubts of past generations, an epiphany is upon you... a revelation...

i'm not swinging between 2 poles... i'm just staying calm and serene watching the cosmos showing each time one of its beautiful manifestaions...
fall is spring chaning dress... reason can love and heart can reason....
the man can hurry to his routine job and at the same time watch the starlings in pairs...
words of this text can say nothing and at the same time they are holding all the written script in the whole universe...
i'm not lost... i'm going my way ... just my way turns every now and then... and the scenery changes...
i can shed the leaves of my past experience and at the same time blossom into my new one...
i'm just going on... on my path the secnery changes...
how blessed i am to live in such a colorful world...
all the opposites are one thing... love/hate, win/lose, have/not have, stop/go, man/woman, young/old...
all the coins have got just one side....truth...

if you want to be scientific, all this can be proved by quantum physics and non-Euclidian geometry..

now someone should find a remdey to cure a talkative crow!
:D
love to you....

Debra Kay said...

Fragmented world-I wrote or said the other day that there are fragments of me everywhere-maybe it's enough to know where you fit now and let later happen as it will.

I know I tend to try define myself or my situation, even when I KNOW that I despise labels and shackles...aaaagh. I'm not much help.

Much of my day has been trying to decide which comes first, the chicken or the egg, why it matters anyway.

Lynn said...

Well, I am exhausted from reading all of this, your wonderful piece, on the porch looking out at trees, seasons passing, struggles to end, begin anew...rushing past life, not living it, love, pain, crows cawing explaining in more words than a crow ought to know, but this one obviously went to college and knows A LOT!
And fragmenting...swirling the words are
in my head

too much for me
I'm going to bed.
:-0

;-)

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

...this story, that goes no further than the front steps...

What a wonderful notion

The whole world
Can be right here
On this page
If I want

The importance
Of a story
The power it has.

Who hasn't learned a great deal
About what is real
from something so simple
But with such appeal
As s story?

[I must admit there are times
When I hide
Here inside...]

BBC said...

I've discovered that staying away from modern women and just doing my own thing is my best path.

Women to not have spirit in them, only their own wants and needs and I've grown tired of them.

Need proof? Ask any woman to give up a lot of what she has to help save the life of one of her spiritual sisters.

Go ahead, ask them to do that. Won't happen. You know it won't happen, they think they deserve what they have.

Oh, hell, never mind. Write another poem to be lost in the monkey droppings in the ruts of history in time and space behind us.

Whatever, right now spirit wouldn't give you two bits for most of the women on this planet because they are so vain, self centered and self serving.

They pretend otherwise, but it's just pretending. Really, ask one if she wants a fancy meal or if she wants you to send a check to a starving woman and her child.

BBC said...

Human Being has a lot to learn.

There is nothing important about being an artist. There is nothing being painted that hasn't already been painted, a few thousand times, at least.

There are no new poems, just variations.

So what is new? A hell of a lot of lonely people on a thing called the Internet.

Human Being is married and has kids. What in the hell is she doing on the Internet?

I'll tell you what, looking for something she is missing in her life.

If I was married and had kids I damn sure wouldn't be on the Internet.

I wouldn't be on the Internet even if I didn't have kids, but just a mate, because we would be busy doing other things.

Well, maybe I would post once a week, but other than that I would have a life.

Lynn said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
human being said...

Jon,
i hate myself for putting this here because it is not related to your beautiful piece... but i feel obliged to write... you know the crows... they cannot keep silent...
sorry gain...
peace....
.
.
.
i'm not a woman
to be taken by a man
i'm a human being
haunted by the very
differentiating feature
parting us from animals--
thinking...

i love to know
to discover
to practice my free will
that's why i turn off those media
deciding for me
thinking for me

i blog
for i can choose
i can interact
i can know
i can be a human
encompassing a whole world

i've got a mate
and a child
we are not hanging to each other
like a dead fish to a hook
but we are
WITH
each other
breathing the life
together and alone
to grow
to flow

some blame me
for spending too much time
with my mate... with my kid
some
for the time with my students
and some
for the time with my blog friends

"Men have forgotten this truth",
as says the Fox,
that "You become responsible,
forever,
for what you have tamed."

over-shopping!
window shopping
jewelry
hairdressers
cosmetics
fashion
and fads
bore me to death
as much as ads!

I want to live
i want to BE
so i talk
so i write
so i share
so i love....

Lynn said...

Loud applause for Human Beings words
all of them
here and
everywhere
thank God we have her
in our midst

To speak
her truth
my truth
the truth

Standing ovation

Praise

Admiration

Flows
from my heart and
lips
to this wonderful
WOMAN!

Thank YOU HB.

I am proud to stand next to you!

spirit said...

I heard something about early onset dementia and BBC in the same sentence....

just a rumor, of course.

does spirit gossip?

hell yes.

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

There is nothing important about being an artist?

Einstein was an artist
As was Descartes
And Oppenheimer
Edison
Euclid
Tessla
Leonardo Da vinci …

And so are you

None of these people had anything NEW to say?

For good
Or for bad
We stand upon the shoulders
Of giants

Discovery
Oft begins
By saying things
That have
Been said before

Forgive me for the length of the following three posts…

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

As for the poet

So what
If words
Have been said
Before?

Words
Are mere
Tools

Inconsequential
To the
Message

I am about the message
We are about
The message

Too often
The message
Is lost
Forgotten
Discounted
Or confused
By the medium

I care not
That my words
My message
Has been spoken
Before

They are good words
And I will repeat them
As often as I want

In my own voice
In my own way
In my own time

For my own reasons

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

As for the Artist

A sunset
Is a sunset
Is a sunset
Is a sunset

Like a painting
That has been painted
A few billion times

At least

But is it?

Every night
A new canvas
A new mix
Of water vapor
And air
And Particulates

Have you ever
Watched the sunset
Day after day
Everyday
For years?

I have
With my children
Beside me
We watched

By-by sunshine!
Marla would say
As the last burning limb
Dropped behind the mountains

When she was small

One evening she asked
Where does the sun go?

And then we were off
They knew instinctively
That this was the time
To ask

What ARE the stars?
Can we go there?
Why does the Earth turn?

Is grandma in heaven now?
Why do I have to do homework?
Will I ever fall in love?
Why do people hate?

Do you ever miss mom?
Do you still love her?
Are you afraid of death?

Every night
A new sunset
A new experience

Sure the colors
Were often similar
Or it was rained out

But I wouldn’t have missed
A single one
They were that beautiful
And unique

By-by Sunshine…

Bobbb - Citizen of Earth said...

As for the human being

Let us judge one another
Shall we?
We can speculate
On how well
Each of us
Spends our time

Writing
Painting
Praying
Laughing
Living
Loving
Crying
Dying

All a waste of time?

Men
And Women
Are no longer defined
By biology

Rather
They are defined
By culture

And this may be
The worst thing
That we have allowed
To happen to our selves

Stereotype
Is far too lame
Too describe it

As cultures clash
People are fighting
And dying
Over what they think
People should be

But there are some
Who choose
To shed the notions
Of stereotype
And culture

Flying in the face
Of ridicule
Shame
Chastisement

They stand
And proclaim

I am Human.

Not Man
Not Woman

Just Human

And here
Among this web
Of pages
And of life

I join them

And celebrate the unity of being

Lynn said...

Amen, Amen, Amen.
Awomen, Awomen, Awomen.
Ah life.
Ah life.
Ah life.

well spoke Bobbb...Citizen of Earth
I appaud you too.

no need to apologize for how many posts it takes to say it all
you said it
and I felt it
understood it
took it in to my heart
and happen to agree

B'Shalom
In Peace
B'Ahava
In Love

Hopper said...

I guess that's what I get for being away for a few days... come back and see that a battle has gone down and I've missed out on all the fun...

Thanks to you all for your comments... controversy is a good thing as far as I'm concerned...

As I've got lots of ideas for work I'm into currently I'll be brief in my response to all this... seems like the issue raised is about the value of arts and the artist... I'm going to ignore and not comment on the misogynistic words of a certain person who doesn't need to be named and who I thought had gotten the point some time ago...

If there was nothing important about the arts why are there so many controversies around arts?

Why do people ban books if they do not fear the ideas they contain?

Why would people read poetry and rally against it if it had no value?

Wouldn't they just ignore it unless they knew that it means more than the words on the page?

James Joyce said that the arts are the "cracked looking glass of the servant"... that the role of the artist is to show the world for what it is, not the way that people may like to see it... and in doing so the artist is issuing a challenge to the reader and to the world... and if they are honest and self critical the value comes in the form of change... and sometimes disagreement is just as good as agreement because at least then you've reflected on another point of view...

So when someone may say that they see no value in the work that I do, the work that many of us do, I think, 'Well and good.' For they must have taken the time to read it and think about why they believe so... and I've done my job.

Lynn said...

Well said!