{"id":17936,"date":"2016-04-15T06:38:21","date_gmt":"2016-04-15T10:38:21","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=17936"},"modified":"2016-04-15T06:38:21","modified_gmt":"2016-04-15T10:38:21","slug":"the-other-side-of-some-world-maybe-this-one","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2016\/04\/the-other-side-of-some-world-maybe-this-one\/","title":{"rendered":"The Other Side of Some World (Maybe This One)"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

[Image: Detail of “Antipodes,” a sculpture by James Sanborn. (Photo by Flickr user wanderingYew2<\/a> used here under a Creative Commons license.) “Antipodes” is currently in the collection<\/a> of the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, DC; it combines elements of two other — arguably more famous — encrypted sculptures by Sanborn: “Cyrillic Projector<\/a>” (in the collection of the University of NC-Charlotte) and “Kryptos<\/a>” (on the grounds of the Central Intelligence Agency headquarters).]<\/em><\/p>\n

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

Looking Around<\/strong>
\n(excerpt)<\/em><\/p>\n

It’s only in darkness you can see the light, only
\nFrom emptiness that things start to fill,
\nI read once in a dream, I read in a book
\nunder the pink
\nRedundancies of the spring peach trees.
\nOld fires, old geographies.
\nIn that case, make it old, I say, make it singular
\nIn its next resurrection,
\nWhite violets like photographs on the tombstone of the yard.<\/p>\n

Each year it happens this way, each year
\nSomething dead comes back and lifts up its arms,
\nputs down its luggage
\nAnd says—in the same costume, down-at-heels, badly sewn—
\nI bring you good news from the other world.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Charles Wright [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Why ask art into a life at all, if not to be transformed and enlarged by its presence and mysterious means? Some hunger for more<\/em> is in us — more range, more depth, more feeling; more associative freedom, more beauty. More perplexity and more friction of interest. More prismatic grief and unstunted delight, more longing, more darkness. More saturation and permeability in knowing our own existence as also the existence of others. More capacity to be astonished. Art adds to the sum of the lives we would have, were it possible to live without it. And by changing selves, one by one, art changes also the outer world that selves create and share.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Jane Hirshfield [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Design<\/strong><\/p>\n

I pour a coating of salt on the table
\nand make a circle in it with my finger.
\nThis is the cycle of life
\nI say to no one.
\nThis is the wheel of fortune,
\nthe Arctic Circle.
\nThis is the ring of Kerry
\nand the white rose of Tralee
\nI say to the ghosts of my family,
\nthe dead fathers,
\nthe aunt who drowned,
\nmy unborn brothers and sisters,
\nmy unborn children.
\nThis is the sun with its glittering spokes
\nand the bitter moon.
\nThis is the absolute circle of geometry
\nI say to the crack in the wall,
\nto the birds who cross the window.
\nThis is the wheel I just invented
\nto roll through the rest of my life
\nI say
\ntouching my finger to my tongue.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Billy Collins [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

Roller Coaster<\/strong><\/p>\n

It starts with the climbing in,
\nnerved-up enough
\nfor that defiance
\nof gravity, the slow-grind
\nrackety-clack one-inch cog
\nat a time—the mystery of machinery,
\nthe sane and safe weightedness
\nof stiff-starched values,
\nwondering if there were
\nsins we’d committed
\nsince our last confession, then
\nat the top, out on the edge,
\nbeyond the solid-ground world
\nparents live in, test life,
\ntheirs and our own, up where
\nwe are a hole in the sky,
\nwholly abandoned in the eyes-
\nshut, heart-stopped drop,
\nlike lawlessness on falling’s
\ncrisp speed, the first curve, a blur,
\nthe world’s suddenness,
\nmetal, air and a prayer
\nhalf-mouthed, spun,
\nflung into another plunge,
\na curve swerving,
\na tiny boat in a tempest—
\nand isn’t this how we want
\nto live, live higher up,
\nhungry to leave the ground,
\nflinging sparks, the lights brighter,
\nthe dark darker, bodies at war
\nwith mere air, but still obedient
\nto the tracks laid down
\nto keep us on track.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Ginger Murchison [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Contrary to popular belief, the way to transformation in our lives is not to put on a heavy coat of armor and carry a thick shield, it’s to put those things down. We have to be willing to expose our most tender areas and commit to setting aside anything and everything that puts a barrier between us and the world. That’s the only way in which to allow our love and compassion to take their place as the source of action.<\/p>\n

The walls we build around ourselves both mentally and physically give us the false illusion that we are safe, but there’s no such thing as a wall that cannot be torn down. When we invest in the idea that we have erected this wall of protection, we naturally make enemies of anything on the other side of the wall.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Angel Kyodo Williams [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Corn Maze<\/strong><\/p>\n

Here is where
\nYou can get nowhere
\nFaster than ever
\nAs you go under
\nDeeper and deeper<\/p>\n

In the fertile smother
\nOf another acre
\nLike any other
\nYou can\u2019t peer over
\nAnd then another<\/p>\n

And everywhere
\nYou veer or hare
\nThere you are
\nFarther and farther
\nAfield than before<\/p>\n

But on you blunder
\nIn the verdant meander
\nAs if\u00a0 the answer
\nTo looking for cover
\nWere to bewilder<\/p>\n

Your inner minotaur
\nAnd near and far were
\nNeither here nor there
\nAnd where you are
\nIs where you were<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(David Barber [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Winter into Spring<\/strong><\/p>\n

The trees, along their bare limbs,
\ncontemplate green.
\nA flicker, rising, flashes rust and white
\nbefore vanishing into stillness,
\nand raked leaves crumble imperceptibly
\nto dirt.<\/p>\n

On all sides life opens and closes
\naround you like a mouth.
\nWill you pretend you are not
\ncaught between its teeth?<\/p>\n

The kestrel in its swift dive
\nand the mouse below,
\nthe first green shoots that
\nwill not with for spring
\nare a language constantly forming.<\/p>\n

Quiet your pride and listen.
\nThere—beneath the rainfall
\nand the ravens calling you can hear it—
\nthe great tongue constantly enunciating
\nsomething that rings through the world
\nas grace.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

[Image: Detail of “Antipodes,” a sculpture by James Sanborn. (Photo by Flickr user wanderingYew2 used here under a Creative Commons license.) “Antipodes” is currently in the collection of the Hirshhorn Museum in Washington, DC; it combines elements of two other — arguably more famous — encrypted sculptures by Sanborn: “Cyrillic Projector” (in the collection of […]<\/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":"Not everything worthwhile will always be close at hand: Billy Collins, Jane Hirshfield, Lynn Ungar et al., on 'The Other Side of Some World (Maybe This One)'","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":[247,1393,250,5,50,36,251,4159],"tags":[270,941,1141,4294,4295,4296,4297,4298,4299],"class_list":{"0":"post-17936","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-language-writing_cat","11":"category-reading","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-jane-hirshfield","15":"tag-charles-wright","16":"tag-billy-collins","17":"tag-lynn-ungar","18":"tag-david-barber","19":"tag-angel-kyodo-williams","20":"tag-ginger-murchison","21":"tag-james-sanborn","22":"tag-geography-of-life","23":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4Fi","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17936","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=17936"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17936\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17945,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17936\/revisions\/17945"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17936"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17936"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17936"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}