{"id":17144,"date":"2015-08-28T13:01:44","date_gmt":"2015-08-28T17:01:44","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=17144"},"modified":"2015-08-28T13:01:44","modified_gmt":"2015-08-28T17:01:44","slug":"groping-at-but-never-grasping-mystery","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2015\/08\/groping-at-but-never-grasping-mystery\/","title":{"rendered":"Groping at (but Never Grasping) Mystery"},"content":{"rendered":"<div class=\"intrinsic-container intrinsic-container-16x9\"><iframe loading=\"lazy\" src=\"https:\/\/www.youtube.com\/embed\/l_YgQEGWT70\" width=\"960\" height=\"720\" frameborder=\"0\" allowfullscreen=\"allowfullscreen\"><\/iframe><\/div>\n<p class=\"smalltext\"><em>[Video: &#8220;Who Done It?&#8221; by Harry Nilsson (on 1977&#8217;s <\/em>Knnillssonn<em> album). The string opening is reportedly the only so-called &#8220;Nilsson&#8221; recording not actually written by Nilsson himself; it&#8217;s the Allegro movement of Beethoven&#8217;s String Quartet No. 12 in E Flat, Opus 127. (The Adagio movement is referenced in Jan Zwicky&#8217;s poem, below.)]<\/em><\/p>\n<p>From <a title=\"whiskey river: Jane Hirshfield, PBS 'Buddha' documentary (possibly quoting Buddha)\" href=\"http:\/\/whiskeyriver.blogspot.com\/2015\/08\/nirvana-is-this-moment-seen-directly.html\" target=\"_blank\"><em>whiskey river<\/em><\/a>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Nirvana is this moment seen directly. There is no where else than here. The only gate is now. The only doorway is your own body and mind. There&#8217;s nowhere to go. There&#8217;s nothing else to be. There&#8217;s no destination. It&#8217;s not something to aim for in the afterlife. It&#8217;s simply the quality of this moment.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Jane Hirshfield [quoted many places around the Web, apparently sourced from a PBS documentary on the Buddha])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>There is the moment when the silence of the countryside gathers in the ear and breaks into a myriad of sounds: a croaking and squeaking, a swift rustle in the grass, a plop in the water, a pattering on earth and pebbles, and high above all, the call of the cicada. The sounds follow one another, and the ear eventually discerns more and more of them&#8212;just as fingers unwinding a ball of wool feel each fiber interwoven with progressively thinner and less palpable threads, The frogs continue croaking in the background without changing the flow of sounds, just as light does not vary from the continuous winking of stars. But at every rise or fall of the wind every sound changes and is renewed. All that remains in the inner recess of the ear is a vague murmur: the sea.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Italo Calvino [<a title=\"Google books: 'The Baron in the Trees,' by Italo Calvino\" href=\"https:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=DaYQ_2rMRoMC&amp;pg=PA70#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Beethoven: Op 127, Adagio<\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong>1.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Here at the end of summer<br \/>\nthe heart talks to itself,<br \/>\na thin stream braiding<br \/>\nover a lip of rock.<\/p>\n<p>To go through a wall, then another&#8212;<br \/>\ngalleries of silent, stone-ground light.<br \/>\nTo go through, to that third room on the other side,<br \/>\nto empty the forest of your thoughts, the forest of your lungs,<br \/>\nthis is where the heart goes in late summer,<br \/>\nthe empty forest. Even the sunlight is alone.<\/p>\n<p>In the third room, the heart sits on the floor<br \/>\ntalking to itself. A little stream,<br \/>\nbraiding over a lip of rock.<br \/>\nIt is saying what it has said<br \/>\nfrom the beginning, no doors, no windows,<br \/>\nif anyone could hear.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Jan Zwicky [<em><a title=\"Goodreads: transcription of 'Beethoven: Op 127, Adagio: 1,&quot; by Jan Zwicky\" href=\"http:\/\/www.goodreads.com\/review\/show\/1042480510?book_show_action=true\" target=\"_blank\">source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n<p><!--more--><\/p>\n<p>Not from\u00a0<em>whiskey river<\/em>:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Adventures in New Testament Greek: <span class=\"explannote\" title=\"Greek philosophy: intellect, understanding\"><em>Nous<\/em><\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n<p>You could almost think the word synonymous<br \/>\nwith mind, given our so far narrow<br \/>\nhistory, and the excessive esteem<\/p>\n<p>in which we have been led to hold what is,<br \/>\nin this case, our rightly designated<br \/>\nnervous systems. Little wonder then<\/p>\n<p>that some presume the mind itself both part<br \/>\nand parcel of the person, the very seat<br \/>\nof soul and, lately, crucible for a host<\/p>\n<p>of chemical incentives&#8212;combinations<br \/>\nof which can pretty much answer for most<br \/>\nof our habits and for our affections.<\/p>\n<p>When even the handy lexicon cannot<br \/>\nquite place the nous as anything beyond<br \/>\none rustic ancestor of reason, you might<\/p>\n<p>be satisfied to trouble the odd term<br \/>\nno further&#8212;and so would fail to find<br \/>\nyour way to it, most fruitful faculty<\/p>\n<p>untried. Dormant in its roaring cave,<br \/>\nthe heart\u2019s <span class=\"explannote\" title=\"having the ability to understand; cognitive\">intellective<\/span> aptitude grows dim,<br \/>\nunless you find a way to wake it. So,<\/p>\n<p>let&#8217;s try something, even now. Even as<br \/>\nyou tend these lines, attend for a moment<br \/>\nto your breath as you draw it in: regard<\/p>\n<p>the breath&#8217;s cool descent, a stream from mouth<br \/>\nto throat to the furnace of the heart.<br \/>\nObserve that queer, cool confluence of breath<\/p>\n<p>and blood, and do your thinking there.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Scott Cairns [<a title=\"Poetry Foundation: 'Adventures in New Testament Greek: Nous,' by Scott Cairns\" href=\"http:\/\/www.poetryfoundation.org\/poem\/177144\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p><strong>Anagrammer<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>If you believe in the magic of language,<br \/>\nthen <em>Elvis<\/em> really <em>Lives<\/em><br \/>\nand <em>Princess Diana<\/em> foretold <em>I end as car spin<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>If you believe the letters themselves<br \/>\ncontain a power within them,<br \/>\nthen you understand<br \/>\nwhat makes <em>outside tedious<\/em>,<br \/>\nhow <em>desperation<\/em> becomes <em>a rope ends it<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>The circular logic that allows <em>senator<\/em> to become <em>treason<\/em>,<br \/>\nand <em>treason<\/em> to become <em>atoners<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>That <em>eleven plus two<\/em> is <em>twelve plus one<\/em>,<br \/>\nand an <em>admirer<\/em> is also <em>married<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>That if you could just rearrange things the right way<br \/>\nyou\u2019d find your true life,<br \/>\nthe right path, the answer to your questions:<br \/>\nyou\u2019d understand how <em>the Titanic<\/em><br \/>\nturns into that <em>ice tin<\/em>,<br \/>\nand <em>debit card<\/em> becomes <em>bad credit<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>How <em>listen<\/em> is the same as <em>silent<\/em>,<br \/>\nand not one letter separates <em>stained<\/em> from <em>sainted<\/em>.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Peter Pereira [<a title=\"Google Books: 'What's Written on the Body,' by Peter Pereira\" href=\"https:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=-VKoIJZGGD0C&amp;pg=PA3#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n<p>&#8230;and:<\/p>\n<blockquote><p>Metaphor is one of the brain&#8217;s favorite ways of understanding the this and that of our surroundings, and reminds us that we discover the world by engaging it and seeing what happens next. The art of the brain is to find what seemingly unrelated things may have in common, and be able to apply that insight to something else it urgently needs to unpuzzle. It thrives on analogy. To some, being aware of that process is exhilarating, to others it&#8217;s scary, depending on one&#8217;s need to believe in absolute truth, and deny the extent to which the brain uses metaphor, often imperceptibly, relying on what we do know to illuminate what we don&#8217;t.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n<p>(Diane Ackerman [<a title=\"Google Books: 'An Alchemy of Mind: The Marvel and Mystery of the Brain,' by Diane Ackerman\" href=\"https:\/\/books.google.com\/books?id=IQnBT-983jwC&amp;pg=PA217#v=onepage&amp;q&amp;f=false\" target=\"_blank\"><em>source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>[Video: &#8220;Who Done It?&#8221; by Harry Nilsson (on 1977&#8217;s Knnillssonn album). The string opening is reportedly the only so-called &#8220;Nilsson&#8221; recording not actually written by Nilsson himself; it&#8217;s the Allegro movement of Beethoven&#8217;s String Quartet No. 12 in E Flat, Opus 127. (The Adagio movement is referenced in Jan Zwicky&#8217;s poem, below.)] From whiskey river: [&hellip;]<\/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":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,74,5,50,251],"tags":[270,376,1438,4051,4151,4152,4153],"class_list":{"0":"post-17144","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-music","9":"category-06_writing","10":"category-language-writing_cat","11":"category-poetry-writing_cat","12":"tag-jane-hirshfield","13":"tag-louise-gluck","14":"tag-diane-ackerman","15":"tag-italo-calvino","16":"tag-jan-zwicky","17":"tag-scott-cairns","18":"tag-peter-pereira","19":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4sw","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17144","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=17144"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17144\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17148,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17144\/revisions\/17148"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17144"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17144"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17144"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}