{"id":16847,"date":"2015-06-12T13:20:46","date_gmt":"2015-06-12T17:20:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=16847"},"modified":"2015-06-12T13:20:46","modified_gmt":"2015-06-12T17:20:46","slug":"acuity-in-the-corner-of-your-eye","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2015\/06\/acuity-in-the-corner-of-your-eye\/","title":{"rendered":"Acuity in the Corner of Your Eye"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Untitled<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: Untitled photograph by Diana Eftaiha, via Flickr<\/a>. Used under a
\nCreative Commons license.]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n

Going nowhere, as Leonard Cohen would later emphasize for me, isn’t about turning your back on the world; it’s about stepping away now and then so that you can see the world more clearly and love it more deeply.<\/p>\n

The idea behind Nowhere — choosing to sit still long enough to turn inward — is at heart a simple one. If your car is broken, you don’t try to find ways to repaint its chassis; most of our problems — and therefore our solutions, our peace of mind — lie within. To hurry around trying to find happiness outside ourselves makes about as much sense as the comical figure in the Sufi parable who, having lost a key in his living room, goes out into the street to look for it because there’s more light there. As Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius reminded us more than two millennia ago, it’s not our experiences that form us but the ways in which we respond to them; a hurricane sweeps through town, reducing everything to rubble, and one man sees it as a liberation, a chance to start anew, while another, perhaps even his brother, is traumatized for life. “There is nothing either good or bad,” as Shakespeare wrote in Hamlet<\/em>, “but thinking makes it so.”<\/p>\n

So much of our lives takes place in our heads — in memory or imagination, in speculation or interpretation — that sometimes I feel that I can best change my life by changing the way I look at it. As America’s wisest psychologist, William James, reminded us, “The greatest weapon against stress is our ability to choose one thought over another.” It’s the perspective we choose — not the places we visit — that ultimately tells us where we stand.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Pico Iyer [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Let Me Tell You What a Poem Brings<\/strong><\/p>\n

for Charles Fishman<\/p>\n

Before you go further,
\nlet me tell you what a poem brings,
\nfirst, you must know the secret, there is no poem
\nto speak of, it is a way to attain a life without boundaries,
\nyes, it is that easy, a poem, imagine me telling you this,
\ninstead of going day by day against the razors, well,
\nthe judgments, all the tick-tock bronze, a leather jacket
\nsizing you up, the fashion mall, for example, from
\nthe outside you think you are being entertained,
\nwhen you enter, things change, you get caught by surprise,
\nyour mouth goes sour, you get thirsty, your legs grow cold
\nstanding still in the middle of a storm, a poem, of course,
\nis always open for business too, except, as you can see,
\nit isn’t exactly business that pulls your spirit into
\nthe alarming waters, there you can bathe, you can play,
\nyou can even join in on the gossip — the mist, that is,
\nthe mist becomes central to your existence.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Juan Felipe Herrera [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Perhaps I don’t know enough yet to find the right words for it, but I think I can describe it. It happened again just a moment ago. I don’t know how to put it except by saying that I see things in two different ways—everything, ideas included… It’s only if I look at them directly, in all their strangeness, that they seem impossible. But of course I may be all wrong about this, I know too little about it… No, I wasn’t wrong when I talked about things having a second, secret life that nobody takes any notice of! I—I don’t mean it literally—it’s not that things are alive… it was more as if I had a sort of second sight and saw all this not with the eyes of reason. Just as I can feel an idea coming to life in my mind, in the same way I feel something alive in me when I look at things and stop thinking. There’s something dark in me, deep under all my thoughts, something I can’t measure out with thoughts, a sort of life that can’t be expressed in words and which is my life, all the same.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Robert Musil [source<\/a> (PDF)<\/em>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

Arlene and Esme<\/strong><\/p>\n

In our house we live with Arlene. My little sister has a plan.
\nShe has what they call a beginner\u2019s mind. She sees everything
\nfrom an un-given-up perspective. I\u2019m frightened; I know
\nArlene better than anyone; she knows me better. Esme says
\nif I\u2019m scared we can\u2019t win. But I am scared. Arlene drags me
\nover to the window where the black mould has made
\na map of Australia. Australia gives me trouble breathing,
\nit\u2019s so far away. Arlene points it out and I get the feeling
\nin my chest, my whole life in there twisted up like a snake.
\nIt could bite me or her. She puts a hand on my breastbone.
\nYou\u2019re not strong<\/em>. I want to tell her we can look after ourselves.
\nI want to tell her I\u2019m in charge now, but I can still see the dark
\nblur at the edges. I don\u2019t sleep anymore, my head is full
\nof this insomniac light. I lie awake watching over my sisters
\nand I listen to them breathe. Esme whispers that I should
\nwake her if I need to. I say I will, but I never do. Even when
\nI sleep I dream I can\u2019t sleep and I\u2019m standing there looking
\ndown at them, the night pouring from my hands. Esme has
\na future in mind. She\u2019s always laughing. She gets up early
\nand makes buttermilk pancakes using normal milk soured
\nwith lemon juice. She tries things out. Arlene tells us
\nto stay away from sharp things or we\u2019ll cut ourselves. Esme
\ndoes what she likes. She grates apple for a new recipe and
\ncuts her knuckle and laughs. I don\u2019t know if I can live my life.
\nI don\u2019t know if I can look after someone as unafraid as Esme.
\nI don\u2019t know how to change what I do, the way someone
\neating soup will, out of habit, bite down. Esme laughs; she\u2019s
\nserving up apple pancakes with banana and maple syrup
\nand she says, You are a whole person<\/em>. A row of mornings fan out.
\nAnd the pancakes are sweet and slightly gummy with a salt edge.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n

I Am Merely Posing for a Photograph<\/strong><\/p>\n

(excerpt)<\/em><\/p>\n

I am merely posing for a photograph.
\nRemember, when the Nomenclature
\nstops you, tell them that—“Sirs, he was posing
\nfor my camera, that is all.” …yes, that may just work.<\/p>\n

My eyes:
\nclear, hazel like my father\u2019s, gaze across the sea, my hands at my side, my
\nlegs spread apart in the wet sands, my pants crumpled, torn, withered, my
\nshirt in rags, see-through in places, no buttons, what a luxury, buttons, I
\nlaugh a little, my tongue slips and licks itself, almost, I laugh, licks itself
\nfrom side to side, the corners of my mouth, if only I could talk like I used
\nto, giggle under moonlight, to myself, my arms destitute, shrunken, I
\nhadn\u2019t noticed, after so many years sifting through rubble stars, rubble toys,
\nrubble crosses, after so many decades beseeching rubble breasts—pretend I
\ncame to swim, I am here by accident,<\/p>\n

like you.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

[Image: Untitled photograph by Diana Eftaiha, via Flickr. Used under a Creative Commons license.] From whiskey river: Going nowhere, as Leonard Cohen would later emphasize for me, isn’t about turning your back on the world; it’s about stepping away now and then so that you can see the world more clearly and love it more […]<\/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":[247,1393,250,5,251],"tags":[3501,4065,4066,4067,4068],"class_list":{"0":"post-16847","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-art","9":"category-06_writing","10":"category-poetry-writing_cat","11":"tag-robert-musil","12":"tag-pico-iyer","13":"tag-juan-felipe-herrera","14":"tag-emily-berry","15":"tag-diana-eftaiha","16":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4nJ","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16847","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=16847"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16847\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":16856,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16847\/revisions\/16856"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16847"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16847"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16847"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}