Thursday, July 8, 2021


Everything Is Going to Be All Right (by Derek Mahon)


How should I not be glad to contemplate

the clouds clearing beyond the dormer window

and a high tide reflected on the ceiling?

There will be dying, there will be dying,

but there is no need to go into that.

The poems flow from the hand unbidden

and the hidden source is the watchful heart.

The sun rises in spite of everything

and the far cities are beautiful and bright.

I lie here in a riot of sunlight

watching the day break and the clouds flying.

Everything is going to be all right.



Wednesday, July 7, 2021

Not the Same River. Not the Same Man (animation by Michelle Brand)


A leaf, a bird and a fisherman animate Heraclitus’ aphorism on flux


It is not possible, said the pre-Socratic Greek philosopher Heraclitus, to step into the same river twice. As the argument goes, the river is made up of constantly flowing waters, for one thing; for another, people themselves are always changing – life experiences accumulating like sediment on a stream bed. Heraclitus was alluding to the idea of flux: that it doesn’t make sense to think in terms of static states of being, but, rather, in terms of processes unfolding over time.


In the contemplative film Not the Same River. Not the Same Man by the German-English filmmaker Michelle Brand, a fisherman takes his boat out to a river, while a bird circles above, and a leaf falls, tracing ripples on the water’s surface. In just a few hand-painted lines of bold blue, black and red acrylic, Brand captures the river’s flow and the fleeting thoughts of the fisherman as they animate his face. Staggered, overlapping frames create an echo of movements just gone by. The pulsing soundtrack, by the Polish accordion ensemble Motion Trio, captures the insistent pull of the water. Both the river and the fisherman are in constant change, but they also transform each other: when the fisherman steps into the river, eddies swirl away from him; and the river washes and soothes his feet, feeds him with fish. A bird, flying in and out of the scene, seems to wait for the chance to catch a fish stirred up by the fisherman’s presence.


Animation, a process that turns static images into movement over time, is an apt medium for Heraclitus’ aphorism. Each frame is hand-painted, so even moments of stillness seem to flicker with the subtle variations in how a line was formed or how the paint dried. No two frames, and no two moments, are identical. Yet, the past leaves its mark on the present, like small waves in the boat’s wake.


Heraclitus’ ideas are known to us only through fragments, preserved in the writings of others, with most of his work lost to time. His aphorism of the river has been picked up and turned over like a pebble in the palms of so many thinkers over the millennia – accruing new layers of meaning through different interpretations. For some, Heraclitus’ ancient theory of flux even seems to have anticipated some of the latest ideas in quantum mechanics.


The idea of impermanence, of fleeting, ephemeral moments, can be a melancholy one for those who would wish to hold on to a cherished state, but the idea of flux also suggest possibilities for new experiences and sensations in the inevitable process of transformation. As the fisherman himself seems to dissolve in fluttering lines of paint, he joins the river on its course – a final metamorphosis wrought by time.


Written by Freya Howarth

Director: Michelle Brand

Not The Same River. Not The Same Man (2017) on Vimeo



Enter yourself, therefore, and know that your soul loves itself most fervently...


Saint Bonaventure quote from The Soul’s Journey into God 


Sunday, July 4, 2021

 

CLOSE (by David Whyte)


is what we almost always are: close to happiness, close to another, close to leaving, close to tears, close to God, close to losing faith, close to being done, close to saying something, or close to success, and even, with the greatest sense of satisfaction, close to giving the whole thing up.

Our human essence lies not in arrival, but in being almost there: we are creatures who are on the way, our journey a series of impending anticipated arrivals. We live by unconsciously measuring the inverse distances of our proximity: an intimacy calibrated by the vulnerability we feel in giving up our sense of separation.

To go beyond our normal identities and become closer than close is to lose our sense of self in temporary joy, a form of arrival that only opens us to deeper forms of intimacy that blur our fixed, controlling, surface identities.

To consciously become close is a courageous form of unilateral disarmament, a chancing of our arm and our love, a willingness to hazard our affections and an unconscious declaration that we might be equal to the inevitable loss that the vulnerability of being close will bring.

Human beings do not find their essence through fulfilment or eventual arrival but by staying close to the way they like to travel, to the way they hold the conversation between the ground on which they stand and the horizon to which they go. We are in effect, always close, always close to the ultimate secret: that we are more real in our simple wish to find a way than any destination we could reach; the step between not understanding that and understanding that is as close as we get to happiness.

 

‘CLOSE’
From CONSOLATIONS:
The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning of Everyday Words.
2019 © David Whyte:
CANONGATE BOOKS UK



 

Friday, June 25, 2021

Last night, as I was sleeping (by Antonio Machado)

 English version by Ivan M. Granger

 

          Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- blessed vision! --
that a fountain flowed
here in my heart.
I said: Why, O water, have you come
along this secret waterway,
spring of new life,
which I have never tasted?

          Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- blessed vision! --
that I had a beehive
here in my heart;
and the golden bees
were making
from all my old sorrows
white wax and sweet honey.

          Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- blessed vision! --
a blazing sun shone
here in my heart.
It was blazing because it gave heat
from a red home,
and it was sun because it gave light
and because it made me weep.

          Last night, as I was sleeping,
I dreamt -- blessed vision! --
that it was God I had
here in my heart.