{"id":18146,"date":"2016-06-10T09:46:35","date_gmt":"2016-06-10T13:46:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=18146"},"modified":"2016-06-10T09:46:35","modified_gmt":"2016-06-10T13:46:35","slug":"this-matter-of-not-knowing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2016\/06\/this-matter-of-not-knowing\/","title":{"rendered":"This Matter of Not-Knowing"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

[Image: “The Sea Has No Need of Us,” by August Brill on Flickr<\/a>. (Used here under a Creative Commons license.) The photograph’s description there consists entirely of a quotation from Russian filmmaker Aleksandr Sokurov<\/a>: “Its beauty is not for us. It’s a beauty that has nothing to do with us… The sea doesn’t know we exist, and besides, would it perhaps really like to know this?” (I haven’t located a specific source for this quotation — may be a loose translation.)]<\/em><\/p>\n

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

There is a certain kind of fascination, a strictly artistic fascination, which arises from a matter being hinted at in such a way as to leave a certain tormenting uncertainty even at the end. It is well sometimes to half understand a poem in the same manner that we half understand the world. One of the deepest and strangest of all human moods is the mood which will suddenly strike us perhaps in a garden at night, or deep in sloping meadows, the feeling that every flower and leaf has just uttered something stupendously direct and important, and that we have by a prodigy of imbecility not heard or understood it. There is a certain poetic value, and that a genuine one, in this sense of having missed the full meaning of things. There is beauty, not only in wisdom, but in this dazed and dramatic ignorance.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(G. K. Chesterton [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

The range of what we think and do
\nis limited by what we fail to notice. And because we fail to notice
\nthat we fail to notice
\nthere is little we can do
\nto change;
\nuntil we notice
\nhow failing to notice
\nshapes our thoughts and deeds.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Daniel Goleman [source<\/em><\/a>]*)<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

“At this moment” is a rare thing because only sometimes do I step with both feet on the land of the present: usually one foot slides toward the past, the other slides toward the future. And I end up with nothing.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Clarice Lispector [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

There is an old anecdote, probably apocryphal, which describes how a feminine admirer wrote to Browning asking him for the meaning of one of his darker poems, and received the following reply: “When that poem was written, two people knew what it meant—God and Robert Browning. And now God only knows what it means.” This story gives, in all probability, an entirely false impression of Browning’s attitude towards his work. He was a keen artist, a keen scholar, he could put his finger on anything, and he had a memory like the British Museum Library. But the story does, in all probability, give a tolerably accurate picture of Browning’s attitude towards his own emotions and his psychological type. If a man had asked him what some particular allusion to a Persian hero meant he could in all probability have quoted half the epic; if a man had asked him which third cousin of Charlemagne was alluded to in Sordello, he could have given an account of the man and an account of his father and his grandfather. But if a man had asked him what he thought of himself, or what were his emotions an hour before his wedding, he would have replied with perfect sincerity that God alone knew.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(G.K. Chesterton [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Things<\/strong><\/p>\n

What happened is, we grew lonely
\nliving among the things,
\nso we gave the clock a face,
\nthe chair a back,
\nthe table four stout legs
\nwhich will never suffer fatigue.<\/p>\n

We fitted our shoes with tongues
\nas smooth as our own
\nand hung tongues inside bells
\nso we could listen
\nto their emotional language,<\/p>\n

and because we loved graceful profiles
\nthe pitcher received a lip,
\nthe bottle a long, slender neck.<\/p>\n

Even what was beyond us
\nwas recast in our image;
\nwe gave the country a heart,
\nthe storm an eye,
\nthe cave a mouth
\nso we could pass into safety.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Lisel Mueller [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

The Doctor:<\/strong> [moving stone tablets]<\/em>\u00a0 Put this one… there. This<\/em> one… there. Uh, keep that one upside down. What have you got?<\/p>\n

Lucius:<\/strong> Enlighten me.<\/p>\n

The Doctor:<\/strong> What, the soothsayer doesn’t know?<\/p>\n

Lucius:<\/strong> A seed may float on the breeze in any direction.<\/p>\n

The Doctor:<\/strong> Yea, I knew you were gonna say that. But– it’s an energy converter!<\/p>\n

Lucius:<\/strong> An energy converter of what?<\/p>\n

The Doctor:<\/strong> I don’t know! Isn’t that brilliant? I love not knowing! Keeps me on me toes. It must be awful being a prophet, waking up every morning, “Is it raining? Yes, it is. I said so.” Takes all the fun out of life.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(The Doctor [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Bird Left Behind<\/strong><\/p>\n

As for her, the circumstances must be ordinary
\nAnd so the return. Door unlocked. The path mowed
\nRight to the oiled gate; the pasture<\/p>\n

Cleared of stone and alder. All untouched
\nEnough to enter. The man or woman
\nOff down the valley or working above<\/p>\n

Treeline. No other sound but a few strays
\nHurrying through the dusk as if the end
\nWill begin, certain and with nothing<\/p>\n

More to say. She does not know she does not know.
\nHaving come back to find her kind
\nAnd none being left she took herself up<\/p>\n

Into a tree unclear what to do next save only
\nSing the song she wanted sung back to her.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Sophie Cabot Black [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

__________________<\/p>\n

* This quotation is generally and apparently mistakenly ascribed to R.D. Laing. According to the source linked to above, Daniel Goleman actually wrote it in 1985, “in the form of<\/em> Laing’s ‘knots'” (emphasis added). Laing had published an earlier book of ruminations, called Knots<\/em> (some samples here<\/a>, and elsewhere around the Web), in what looked something like free verse.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: “The Sea Has No Need of Us,” by August Brill on Flickr. (Used here under a Creative Commons license.) The photograph’s description there consists entirely of a quotation from Russian filmmaker Aleksandr Sokurov: “Its beauty is not for us. It’s a beauty that has nothing to do with us… The sea doesn’t know we […]<\/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 at all the same thing as everyday ignorance: G.K. Chesterton, Lisel Mueller, The Doctor, et al., on 'This Matter of Not-Knowing'","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":[247,1393,250,5,36,251,4159],"tags":[66,2231,2232,2314,4167,4326,4327,4328,4329,4330],"class_list":{"0":"post-18146","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-reading","11":"category-poetry-writing_cat","12":"category-essays","13":"tag-gk-chesterton","14":"tag-daniel-goleman","15":"tag-r-d-laing","16":"tag-lisel-mueller","17":"tag-clarice-lispector","18":"tag-aleksandr-sokurov","19":"tag-doctor-who","20":"tag-sophie-cabot-black","21":"tag-not-knowing","22":"tag-knowing","23":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4IG","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18146","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=18146"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18146\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18153,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18146\/revisions\/18153"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18146"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18146"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18146"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}