{"id":18188,"date":"2016-06-24T12:11:22","date_gmt":"2016-06-24T16:11:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=18188"},"modified":"2016-06-24T12:11:22","modified_gmt":"2016-06-24T16:11:22","slug":"the-hidden-the-hiding","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2016\/06\/the-hidden-the-hiding\/","title":{"rendered":"The Hidden, the Hiding"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

[Image: “comfort in shadows,” found on Flickr<\/a>. The photo is by a user whose display name there is JustCallMe_♥Bethy♥_. (Used here under a Creative Commons license.) She (assuming it is indeed a woman) says she was inspired by another Flickr user, Brooke Shaden, who has done several photos of herself<\/a> wedged into various tight corners in the kitchen.]<\/em><\/p>\n

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

Find meaning. Distinguish melancholy from sadness. Go out for a walk. It doesn’t have to be a romantic walk in the park, spring at its most spectacular moment, flowers and smells and outstanding poetical imagery smoothly transferring you into another world. It doesn’t have to be a walk during which you’ll have multiple life epiphanies and discover meanings no other brain ever managed to encounter. Do not be afraid of spending quality time by yourself. Find meaning or don’t find meaning but “steal” some time and give it freely and exclusively to your own self. Opt for privacy and solitude. That doesn’t make you antisocial or cause you to reject the rest of the world. But you need to breathe. And you need to be.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Albert Camus [source<\/em><\/a> (etc., none canonical)])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

We will never be the same again. But here’s a little secret for you — no one is ever the same thing again after anything. You are never the same twice, and much of your unhappiness comes from trying to pretend that you are. Accept that you are different each day, and do so joyfully, recognizing it for the gift it is. Work within the desires and goals of the person you are currently, until you aren’t that person anymore, and everything changes once again.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor (October 1, 2015) [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a> (highlighted<\/span> excerpt):<\/p>\n

Forbidden City<\/strong><\/p>\n

Asleep until noon, I’m dreaming
\nwe’ve been granted another year.<\/p>\n

You’re here with me, healthy.
\nThen, half-awake, the half-truth—<\/p>\n

this is our last day. Life’s leaking
\naway again, and this time, we know it.<\/p>\n

Dear body, I told you, pleading,
\nDon’t leave!<\/em> but I understand you<\/p>\n

can’t say anything. Who are we?
\nAre we fictional? We don’t look<\/p>\n

like our pictures, don’t look like
\nanyone I know. Daylight<\/p>\n

flickers through a bamboo grove,
\nwe approach the Forbidden City,<\/p>\n

Looking together for the Hall
\nof Fulfilling Original Wishes.<\/p>\n

Time is the treasure<\/em>, you tell me,<\/span>
\nand the past is its hiding place<\/em>.<\/span><\/p>\n

I instruct our fictional children,<\/span>
\nThe past is the treasure, time<\/em><\/span><\/p>\n

is its hiding place<\/em>.<\/span> If we told him<\/em>
\nhow much we love him, how much<\/em><\/p>\n

we miss him, he could stay.<\/em>
\nBut now you’ve taken me back<\/p>\n

to Luoyang, to the Garden of Solitary Joy,
\nover a thousand years old—<\/p>\n

I wake, I hold your hand, you let me go.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Gail Mazur [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

Shell<\/strong><\/p>\n

I could have anything I wanted
\nfrom the maws of the vending machines
\nthat stood watch over the waiting
\nroom of my stepfather\u2019s Shell station.
\nLarry or Chubbs would fish out keys
\nwith grimy fingers, swing open
\nthe face of the machine, reveal its innards
\nstacked columns of soda or candy bars.<\/p>\n

Outside the constant ding of the bell
\nas cars pulled in for gas, directions,
\nair in the tires, a clean windshield,
\ndrivers impatient for destination,
\nand Chubbs or Larry would dash, leave
\nme to choose: Planter\u2019s Peanut
\nBar or Nestle\u2019s Crunch, Coke
\nor orange or chocolate pop. Grit<\/p>\n

covered that tiny room, layered
\non maps in their laddered racks, dusting
\nthe globe of the gumball machine,
\nsifted over neat rows of motor oil
\nin silver cans, smudging the white
\npages of homework I filled with
\npainstaking script. I breathed
\nthe stink of petroleum, kicked<\/p>\n

at the legs of a yellow plastic
\nchair with my black and white
\nschool oxfords, waiting for my stepfather
\nwho was supposed to watch me till
\nmy mother got off work. Nine was too
\nyoung, she thought, to stay at home alone.
\nBut every day he\u2019d disappear, banged-up
\nChevy gone from the lot, the men<\/p>\n

in oil-streaked uniforms shrugging excuses.
\n\u201cAnything she wants,\u201d he\u2019d instructed them,
\nand I watched the clock as the sky
\ndarkened and the bright shell glowed
\nagainst night. My new bra was too tight;
\nI hugged my three-ring binder to hide my roll
\nof belly from Larry, from Chubbs, and sucked
\nthe dregs of chocolate pop or lemon-lime.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Terry Wolverton [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

Chapter 41<\/strong><\/p>\n

Higher people hear of the Tao
\nThey diligently practice it
\nAverage people hear of the Tao
\nThey sometimes keep it and sometimes lose it
\nLower people hear of the Tao
\nThey laugh loudly at it
\nIf they do not laugh, it would not be the Tao<\/p>\n

Therefore a proverb has the following:
\nThe clear Tao appears unclear
\nThe advancing Tao appears to retreat
\nThe smooth Tao appears uneven
\nHigh virtue appears like a valley
\nGreat integrity appears like disgrace
\nEncompassing virtue appears insufficient
\nBuilding virtue appears inactive
\nTrue substance appears inconstant
\nThe great square has no corners
\nThe great vessel is late in completion
\nThe great music is imperceptible in sound
\nThe great image has no form
\nThe Tao is hidden and nameless
\nYet it is only the Tao
\nThat excels in giving and completing everything<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Lao-Tzu [source<\/em><\/a> (among numerous other translations)])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

#9<\/a>:<\/strong> Beware of rendering your memories into words to be read. Words, especially\u00a0written<\/em> words, are curiously powerful things: they make the figurative world concrete. Ideas take shape in the form of small black squiggles on a sheet of paper or a word-processing window on a computer screen — and then they freeze. The squiggles can thus be shared, and a common understanding of the ideas which the words represent can develop. But the words are not the ideas<\/em> — they are not the events remembered. To imagine otherwise is to accept a false syllogism: to imagine, say, that the brain is<\/em> the mind, that an anatomical drawing or CAT scan of the brain is<\/em> the brain, and that therefore the picture is<\/em> the mind.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(JES, Maxims for Nostalgists<\/em>)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: “comfort in shadows,” found on Flickr. The photo is by a user whose display name there is JustCallMe_♥Bethy♥_. (Used here under a Creative Commons license.) She (assuming it is indeed a woman) says she was inspired by another Flickr user, Brooke Shaden, who has done several photos of herself wedged into various tight corners […]<\/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":"Camus, Mazur, Lao-Tzu, et al.: 'The Hidden, the Hiding'","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":[247,1393,250,5,50,251,4159],"tags":[3285,3521,3763,4257,4337,4338,4339,4340,4341],"class_list":{"0":"post-18188","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-poetry-writing_cat","12":"category-essays","13":"tag-maxims-for-nostalgists","14":"tag-albert-camus","15":"tag-gail-mazur","16":"tag-terry-wolverton","17":"tag-welcome-to-night-vale","18":"tag-lao-tzu","19":"tag-tao-te-ching","20":"tag-tao","21":"tag-self-portraits","22":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4Jm","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18188","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=18188"}],"version-history":[{"count":7,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18188\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18196,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18188\/revisions\/18196"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18188"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18188"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18188"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}