{"id":15161,"date":"2014-01-24T10:12:25","date_gmt":"2014-01-24T15:12:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=15161"},"modified":"2014-01-24T10:12:41","modified_gmt":"2014-01-24T15:12:41","slug":"here-for-now","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2014\/01\/here-for-now\/","title":{"rendered":"Here (for Now)"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"'Too<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: cartoon by Barney Tobey in\u00a0<\/em>The New Yorker of September 13, 1982 (<\/em>source)]<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n

From\u00a0whiskey river<\/em><\/a> (italicized portion):<\/p>\n

The Sensual World<\/strong><\/p>\n

I call to you across a monstrous river or chasm
\nto caution you, to prepare you.<\/p>\n

Earth will seduce you, slowly, imperceptibly,
\nsubtly, not to say with connivance.<\/p>\n

I was not prepared: I stood in my granmother’s kitchen,
\nholding out my glass. Stewed plums, stewed apricots —<\/p>\n

the juice poured off into the glass of ice.
\nAnd the water added, patiently, in small increments,<\/p>\n

the various cousins discriminating, tasting
\nwith each addition —<\/p>\n

aroma of summer fruit, intensity of concentration:
\nthe colored liquid turning gradually lighter, more radiant,<\/p>\n

more light passing through it.
\nDelight, then solace. My grandmother waiting,<\/p>\n

to see if more was wanted. Solace, then deep immersion.
\nI loved nothing more: deep privacy of the sensual life,<\/p>\n

the self disappearing into it or inseparable from it,
\nsomehow suspended, floating, its needs<\/p>\n

fully exposed, awakened, fully alive —
\nDeep immersion, and with it<\/p>\n

mysterious safety. Far away, the fruit glowing in its glass bowls.
\nOutside the kitchen, the sun setting.<\/p>\n

I was not prepared: sunset, end of summer. Demonstrations
\nof time as a continuum, as something coming to an end,<\/p>\n

not a suspension; the senses wouldn’t protect me.
\nI caution you as I was never cautioned:<\/em><\/p>\n

you will never let go, you will never be satiated.<\/em>
\nYou will be damaged and scarred, you will continue to hunger.<\/em><\/p>\n

Your body will age, you will continue to need.<\/em>
\nYou will want the earth, then more of the earth —<\/em><\/p>\n

Sublime, indifferent, it is present, it will not respond.<\/em>
\nIt is encompassing, it will not minister.<\/em><\/p>\n

Meaning, it will feed you, it will ravish you,<\/em>
\nit will not keep you alive.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Louise Gl\u00fcck [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Aphorism #33<\/strong><\/p>\n

One of the best means for arousing the wish to work on yourself is to realize that you may die at any moment. But first you must learn how to keep it in mind.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(George Ivanovich Gurdjieff [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a> (italicized portion):<\/p>\n

Sabbaths: VII<\/strong><\/p>\n

Again I resume the long<\/em>
\n lesson: how small a thing<\/em>
\n can be pleasing, how little<\/em>
\n in this hard world it takes<\/em>
\n to satisfy the mind<\/em>
\n and bring it to its rest.<\/em><\/p>\n

With the ongoing havoc
\nthe woods this morning is
\nalmost unnaturally still.
\nThrough stalled air, unshadowed
\nlight, a few leaves fall
\nof their own weight.<\/p>\n

The sky<\/span>
\nis gray. It begins in mist
\nalmost at the ground
\nand rises forever. The trees
\nrise in silence almost
\nnatural, but not quite,
\nalmost eternal, but
\nnot quite.
\nWhat more did I<\/span>
\nthink I wanted? Here is
\nwhat has always been.
\nHere is what will always
\nbe. Even in me,
\nthe Maker of all this
\nreturns in rest, even
\nto the slightest of His works,
\na yellow leaf slowly
\nfalling, and is pleased.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Wendell Berry [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Not from\u00a0whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n

Crossword<\/strong><\/p>\n

The white and black squares
\npromise order
\nin the morning mess
\nof mulling over<\/p>\n

the latest political morass,
\nwhat’s on sale at Kohl’s,
\nthe book review.<\/p>\n

Each letter, shared,
\nwhich lifts away
\nsome sheen of loneliness I
\ncan’t quite explain.<\/p>\n

This week, “arsenic” and “forsythia”
\nare joined by their i<\/em>‘s
\nlike long-estranged cousins.<\/p>\n

And when they ask
\nfor the French equivalent of sky<\/em>,
\nI’m back on a wooden chair<\/p>\n

in Madame Baumlin’s
\neighth-grade class, passing
\na note to David, having<\/p>\n

no idea, as my hand grazes his,
\nthat he will drown sailing
\nthat next summer.<\/p>\n

I like doing the crossword
\nwith my husband —
\nSource of support,
\nthree letters.<\/p>\n

I’m the one who guesses it,
\nglad he doesn’t think
\nof “bra” in this way.<\/p>\n

The puzzle rests
\non the counter all week.<\/p>\n

I like coming back,
\nlooking at the same clue
\nI found insolvable
\nthe day before, my mind<\/p>\n

often a mystery to me,
\nturning corners when I sleep
\nor am upstairs folding clothes.<\/p>\n

They get added to pounds<\/em>.
\nYesterday I thought
\nit had to do with money or meat;<\/p>\n

now I can see the chain-link fence
\nat the local animal shelter.
\nOf course. “Strays.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Sally Bliumis-Dunn [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Visiting hours are daily, eleven to two; Sunday, eleven to one; evenings, six to nine. “NO MINORS, NO FOOD, Immediate Family Only Allowed in Jail.” All this above a blue steel door in a blue cement wall in the windowless interior of the basement of the city hall. The desk sergeant sits opposite the door to the jail. In a cigar box in front of him are pills in every color, a banquet of fruit salad an inch and a half deep — leapers, co-pilots, footballs, truck drivers, peanuts, blue angels, yellow jackets, redbirds, rainbows. Near the desk are two soldiers, waiting to go through the blue door. They are about eighteen years old. One of them is trying hard to light a cigarette. His wrists are in steel cuffs. A military policeman waits, too. He is a year or so older than the soldiers, taller, studious in appearance, gentle, fat. On a bench against a wall sits a good-looking girl in slacks. The blue door rattles, swings heavily open. A turnkey stands in the doorway. “Don’t you guys kill yourselves back there now,” says the sergeant to the soldiers.<\/p>\n

“One kid, he overdosed himself about ten and a half hours ago,” says the M.P.<\/p>\n

The M.P., the soldiers, the turnkey, and the girl on the bench are white. The sergeant is black. “If you take off the handcuffs, take off the belts,” says the sergeant to the M.P. “I don’t want them hanging themselves back there.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(John McPhee [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Khaleesi Says<\/strong><\/p>\n

Game of Thrones<\/p>\n

In this story, she is fire-born:
\nknee-deep in the shuddering world.<\/p>\n

In this story, she knows no fear,
\nfor what is fractured is a near-bitten star,
\na false-bearing tree,
\nor a dishonest wind.<\/p>\n

In this story, fear is a house gone dry.
\nFear is not<\/em> being a woman.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m no ordinary woman<\/em>, she says.
\nMy dreams come true<\/em>.<\/p>\n

And she says and she is
\nand I say, yes, give me that<\/em>.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Leah Umansky [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: cartoon by Barney Tobey in\u00a0The New Yorker of September 13, 1982 (source)] From\u00a0whiskey river (italicized portion): The Sensual World I call to you across a monstrous river or chasm to caution you, to prepare you. Earth will seduce you, slowly, imperceptibly, subtly, not to say with connivance. I was not prepared: I stood in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","h5ap_radio_sources":[],"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"activitypub_content_warning":"","activitypub_content_visibility":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,196,274,5,36,251,713],"tags":[376,1579,1798,3719,3720,3721],"class_list":{"0":"post-15161","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-television","9":"category-cartoons","10":"category-06_writing","11":"category-reading","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-humor-writing_cat","14":"tag-louise-gluck","15":"tag-wendell-berry","16":"tag-john-mcphee","17":"tag-george-ivanovich-gurdjieff","18":"tag-sally-bliumis-dunn","19":"tag-leah-umansky","20":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-3Wx","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15161","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=15161"}],"version-history":[{"count":11,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15161\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":15175,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/15161\/revisions\/15175"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=15161"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=15161"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=15161"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}