[Photo above taken by the Hubble Wide-Field Camera 3 and released a few days ago by NASA. Several thousand galaxies are visible in the original, “a peek at the universe as it looked about 600 million years after the Big Bang.” More info here and here.]
From whiskey river (which excerpted from this poem, in different words, via translation):
The startling reality of things
The startling reality of things
Is my discovery every single day.
Every thing is what it is,
And it’s hard to explain to anyone how much this delights me
And suffices me.To be whole, it is enough simply to exist.
I’ve written a good many poems.
I shall write many more, naturally.
Each of my poems speaks of this,
And yet all my poems are different,
Because each thing that exists is one way of saying this.Sometimes I start looking at a stone.
I don’t start thinking, Does it have feeling?
I don’t fuss about calling it my sister.
But I get pleasure out of its being a stone,
Enjoying it because it feels nothing,
Enjoying it because it’s not at all related to me.Occasionally I hear the wind blow,
And I find that just hearing the wind blow makes it worth having been born.I don’t know what others reading this will think;
But I find it must be good since it’s what I think without effort,
With no idea that other people are listening to me think;
Because I think it without thoughts,
Because I say it as my words say it.I was once called a materialist poet
And was surprised, because I didn’t imagine
I could be called anything at all.
I’m not even a poet: I see.
If what I write has any merit, it’s not in me;
The merit is there, in my verses.
All this is absolutely independent of my will.
(Fernando Pessoa [source])
…and:
Your beloved and your friends were once strangers. Somehow at a particular time, they came from the distance toward your life. Their arrival seemed so accidental and contingent. Now your life is unimaginable without them. Similarly, your identity and vision are composed of a certain constellation of ideas and feelings that surfaced from the depths of the distance within you. To lose these now would be to lose yourself.
(John O’Donohue [source])
Not from whiskey river:
It was once when I read a silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of: for instance, one of them discovered that a camel blind of the right eye had traveled the same road lately, because the grass was eaten only on the left side, where it was worse than on the right — now do you understand serendipity? One of the most remarkable instances of this accidental sagacity (for you must observe that no discovery of a thing you are looking for, comes under this description) was of my Lord Shaftsbury, who happening to dine at Lord Chancellor Clarendon’s, found out the marriage of the Duke of York and Mrs. Hyde, by the respect with which her mother treated her at table.
(Horace Walpole, who — per Wikipedia — coined the word serendipity in this passage from a letter to a friend)
…and:
…through a sequence of events too complex to recount here (the connections between which, in any case, are never fully explained), everything in [the protagonist] Lorimer’s life begins to go wrong. His reversal of fortune is attributed to a principle defined in one of the reflective passages from his diary that punctuate the action of the novel:
[…]”So what is the opposite of Serendip, a southern land of spice and warmth, lush greenery and hummingbirds, seawashed, sunbasted? Think of another world in the far north, barren, icebound, cold, a world of flint and stone. Call it Zembla. Ergo: zemblanity, the opposite of serendipity, the faculty of making unhappy, unlucky and expected discoveries by design. Serendipity and zemblanity: the twin poles of the axis around which we revolve.”
Zemblanity in Lorimer’s life takes many forms: a paranoid rock star selects him as a confidant; his car is vandalized, either by the subject of one of his insurance investigations or by Flavia Malinverno’s jealous husband; he inherits his elderly neighbor’s dog; his father dies.
(from a New York Times review of William Boyd’s Armadillo (1998))
Finally… There’s so much information on the Web about the long-lived American New Wave band Devo that i’d feel ridiculous trying to summarize it all. While I admit that I have not followed their idiosyncratic career, the bits of it that I have been snagged on have always entertained (and in some cases challenged) me. While researching this post, I serendipitously — perhaps even zemblanitously — came across a couple of static YouTube videos of what seems to be an obscure song by them, “Find Out.”
Unambiguous information on “Find Out” is difficult to, er, find. One of the two videos’ descriptions says that it’s from the Oh, No! It’s Devo album (1982). This seems to be true only if you’re referring not to the original album, but to a remastered re-release in 1995; Wikipedia reports that “Find Out” was the B-side song of the single “Peek-a-Boo,” which may explain its obscurity.
In any event, of the two videos on YouTube, the one below has the better audio (I think — but Lord knows, I’m no authority!). Lyrics, per usual, appear below the video.
Lyrics:
Find Out
(Devo)I’ve seen ’em doing battle
I’ve heard in times of war
still I keep on going
though it’s different than before
they’ve been riding high
up where the cold winds blow
miles above that highway
where the rest of us all goto find out
you have to find out
it’s good to find out
before you open your mouth
find out
now don’t you find out
you better find out
before you fill in the blanksgo find out what it takes
to make a boy break down and cry
go find out his young mistake
is a premature goodbye (it’s a privilege you can buy)find out
where it goes
find out
faster roads
find out
it never grows
find out
for yourselfyou never tried to find the time it takes
to work it out
it’s not a waste to taste
the sweat it takes
to work it outWork!
You don’t need a battle
you don’t need a war
you don’t need any lessons
to find out what’s in storeyou been riding high
you felt the cold winds blow
now get back on the highway
where the others have to goand find out
and maybe when you do
you’ll even find out
you haven’t got a clue
unless you find out
it’s never like they say
your gonna find out
you’ll take it all the waygo find out what it takes
to make a boy break down and cry
go find out his young mistake
is a premature goodbye (it’s a privilege you can buy)you never tried to find the time it takes
to work it out
it’s not a waste to taste
the sweat it takes
to work it outfind out
before you open your mouth
you better find out.
DarcKnyt says
They are not men, they are Devo. An interesting band. I never loved them nor hated them, but they just keep hanging around. Zemblanitously for me, I guess. ;)
Hope your weekend is one of serendipity and not zemblanity, J. :)
marta says
Zemblanity.
That’s a word I’m going to love.
recaptcha: this fathomed
Froog says
By the by, I bet William Boyd was thinking – well, subconsciously, anyway – of a Prisoner of Zembla pun when he coined this.
Froog says
The Beeb made a TV movie of Armadillo about 10 years ago. Fairly diverting – although I imagine it missed out on a lot of the textures of the book. I don’t remember the Zembla thing from it.
Froog says
Ugh, late night posting! Apologies – the first of the above was, of course, meant to have been posted under your Boyish Prankery piece.
John says
Darc: Alas, it feels like I had more zemblanity than serendipity over the weekend. The good thing about most weekends (weekdays too, for that matter) — until the final one — is that you always get do-overs. ;)
(I really shouldn’t tempt the gods of zemblanity with assertions like that.)
marta: The only problem with using a brand-new word, especially one not formed from one or more existing, familiar words, is that you’ve pretty much got to repeat the definition every time you use the word. Or just drop the word into context, undefined, and trust the reader/listener to do some research and/or figure it out via context.
Readers/Listeners who can be trusted that far are probably the exception!
Froog: If Boyd had even imagined such a pun on the word, his embarrassment might well have prevented us from ever learning the word. I myself am always happy to find someone unembarrassed by godawful puns, though. (Even erudite godawful ones. Heh.)
[Moved that misplaced comment for you, btw. Not something I’d want to do every day, but at least now I know it’s possible!]
Froog says
Thanks, JES.
I had thought of doing it myself, but wasn’t sure if you’d seen it yet; I didn’t want to confuse you if you’d been offline for a few days and suddenly found your comment folder filled with duplicate anecdotes from me!
I thought it would be a snip to sort out for an IT-whizz like you. And you do seem to bustle around quite often tidying up the comment threads with a proprietorial pride. Sorry if it wasn’t as straightforward as I had supposed – but I thought you would actually prefer to do it yourself… with all of that fussy attention to detail like replicating the original timestamp!
(And I’ve only just noticed, but…. you can’t delete your own comments here? Is that the one superior facility that Blogger boasts over WordPress??)
And what is a BECKENSTEIN slice? A technique in pathology, perhaps? Yet another ReCaptcha conundrum.
John says
Froog: I’m greatly conflicted by that tidying-up habit. The only reason I do it — and in telling you, I’m not trying to make myself appear, y’know, noble (I doubt you’d be fooled!) — is to help out commenters. But there’s a school of thought (which I also sympathize with) that says tampering with someone else’s reality, for any reason, ought to be off-limits.
A relatively recent trend in journalism is NOT to clean up direct quotations from interview subjects, because the interviewer wants to represent accurately the interviewee’s personality, rhythms of speech, and so on. At the other extreme is the old-fashioned “Make the oafish athlete sound like a doctoral candidate” approach. I tend to keep hands off, although sometimes it’s tempting to try to tart up a commenter’s product. :)
You’re right about WordPress-vs-Blogger in that respect. In a way, Blogger’s letting you delete your own comments is a dangerous feature — because there’s no way for Blogger to guarantee that the “you” deleting your comment is, in fact, you. More problematic to me is that there’s no built-in facility to revise a comment before posting. (The blog admin can install any of various WordPress plugins to enable that, but I get really nervous about adding too many plugins — there’s almost no way to be sure they’re all playing nicely together.)