beautiful figures; they have a Sumerian quality to them
(the royal tombs of Ur, maybe) … RT
(reposted from Claudia McGill)
a lovely post… RT
Originally posted on Rue Colbert:
I love wrapping gifts almost as much as I love buying them. I love the idea of giving something that is as pretty on the outside as it is on the inside. December is my epic wrapping month. There are birthdays galore in December and I try to mix it up as much as I have time. This year, I got a bit stuck on the good ol doily. I’m kinda loving them right now. Anyway here is some of my December wrapped up…
Defining moments, at least in my life, often arrive by way of a cluttered apartment. Projects draw me inward, I work on and finish them, and am faced by new projects and the debris of my earlier work. Stacks of paper on my “junk” ironing board, my desk covered in an unseemly number of scraps and bits and full pages and bills and advertisements…bring out my clean-up-the-mess champion, Confessions of an Organized Homemaker. Toss the odds and ends out, clean your space up!
And here’s a sure-fire tip: Clutter does not encourage creativity!
It’s an uphill battle, of course–I find an intriguing bit of writing I thought I had abandoned or (worse) something I thought I had lost. My answer: put it all in a special folder to be sorted through later. Much more is involved than that, but even so, at times I’ve gotten close to an organized and attractive space…
RT’s advice: keep working on it!
Photo: Postit; Author: Nevit Dilmen; WikiCmns; Licence: CC 3.0 Unported.
This collage of portraits demonstrates how varied the appearance of people of Indian descent can be. I have experienced this myself in the time that I’ve lived in West Virginia; I have heard that WV has more people of Indian descent than any other state east of the Mississippi, and I personally have met a wide range of folks with Indian blood in Martinsburg and its surroundings. In fact, the Cherokee nation is by far the largest of the Indian tribes–it numbers about a million members–half of all Indians in the United States. A remarkable people and a remarkable survival. RT
Photo: Collage; Wikipedia; Public Domain.
This is a vast topic. The subject of this post is nothing less than the genius of the human spirit: our need to compose poetry.
Let’s put it another way: poetry is what makes us human. You heard me right: the silly little past-time of love-besotted teenagers and ivory-tower types looking at a pile of eviction notices on their desk is actually something that everyone needs to know if they are to master the intricacies of living a happy life.
To see how this might be, we should remember the distinction the Rag Tree has made in a previous post between the first mind and rational mind. The first mind is the mind that we inherited from the animals and is capable of intuition, the wordless understanding of what is happening in our immediate surroundings. The rational mind is capable of reason and deduction, the manipulation of abstract concepts and ideas to solve generalized problems.
Unfortunately, intuition doesn’t have the best reputation; we associate it with guessing—that is, making deductions without enough information, or with hard-wired responses acquired in childhood. But in producing a mute feeling, intuition often winnows out the background to arrive at the most important facts of our surrounding—Gosh, it’s a warm night, but what about the shadow that’s moving over there?
The world is music. One need only listen to trees rustling in a breeze or watch deer in a field to know this. Of course, individual events and moments in nature can be highly distressing, but every action is intricately bound to all the rest. It is this balanced music that the intuition listens to.
Being human means harmonizing the rational and first minds—this harmonization is poetry. That is to say, language bridges the gap between the rational and the intuitive. It makes the rational beautiful and the intuitive reasonable. Every poem lies somewhere on the spectrum between music and meaning.
Every thought is a compromise between our need to abstract pattern and to respond physically to the environment—to remain part of the world’s movement. Language creation happens when someone’s intuition of the world differs from most people’s—possibly there is something physically different about him or her, or they grew up somewhere else. Their native sense of things is different, and so they begin using an idioglossia (i.e., they create and speak their own language).
Yes, idioglossia is relative. After all, there is no such thing as perfect communication. But, at the more creative end of the spectrum, an idioglossia will begin to attract listeners by its beauty and clarity. Especially in a situation where there are rival cultures and languages warring for control, an idioglossia can evolve into a Creole (and all languages, at bottom, are creoles).
Poetry, on the other hand, is a kind of idiolect—a person’s unique use of the common language. Idiolects are always evolving because people constantly experiment with their words and speech. When the process proceeds undisturbed, it will produce a local dialect. But poetry is closer in spirit to idioglossia—it is a more radical rehandling of speech and is closer to outright language creation—just look at all the phrases that Shakespeare bequeathed to us. (And think of the competition between Anglo-Norman and Middle English that produced the variety of dialects available to the Bard).
Every act of language creation is a moral act intended (at some level) to help people understand themselves and the world more clearly—and to enjoy it more. There is something deeply intentional in this act of intuiting the right words. A great poet deserves her (or his) laurels.
True to its intuitive roots, language flourishes best in a restless or transitional society. Too many rules, although intended to help preserve the language’s clarity, have the paradoxical effect of stifling speakers. Words, and the thoughts and experiences they represent, are spontaneous. Perhaps this is why so many cultures have had a language of literature and study and a language of daily use. Poetry belongs with the quotidian, the music of the moment. Keep your ears pricked on any street corner, and you may hear it. RT
Photo: Alaskan Mask, Tunghak–Yupik; WikiCmns; Dallas MOA; Public Domain.
DNA evidence suggests that mankind’s exodus out of Africa began 70,000 years ago. We are still at it, and in the next couple of centuries may settle Mars. Then someone or another will overturn (or more likely, complete) Einstein, and we will be hopping from star to star…
Photo: Buzz Aldrin on the Surface; WikiCmns; NASA; Public Domain.