{"id":18197,"date":"2016-07-01T10:31:36","date_gmt":"2016-07-01T14:31:36","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=18197"},"modified":"2016-07-01T10:26:30","modified_gmt":"2016-07-01T14:26:30","slug":"void-not-void-everything-in-between","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2016\/07\/void-not-void-everything-in-between\/","title":{"rendered":"Void, Not-Void, and Everything in Between"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

[Image: Figure 5 from US Patent #US 20140215949 A1<\/a>: “65 db SOUND BARRIER INSULATED BLOCK.” For more information, see the note<\/a> at the foot of this post.]<\/em><\/p>\n

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

When I was younger I thought my knowledge would increase with years, that it was steadily expanding like the universe. A constantly widening area of certainty that correspondingly displaced and diminished the reach of uncertainty. I was really very optimistic. With the passage of time I must admit that I know roughly as much as then, perhaps even slightly less, and with nothing like the same certainty. My so-called experiences are not the same as knowledge. It is more like, how shall I put it, a kind of echo chamber in which the little I know rings hollow and inadequate. A growing void around a scant knowledge that rattles foolishly like the dried-up kernel in a walnut. My experiences are experiences of ignorance, its boundlessness, and I will never discover how much I still don’t know, and how much is something I believed.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Jens Christian Gr\u00f8ndahl [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living. Each day is the same, so you remember the series afterward as a blurred and powerful pattern.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Annie Dillard [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

In That Great River: A Notebook<\/strong>
\n(excerpt)<\/em><\/p>\n

So a little spring prays to the ocean, so the beating heart prays to the heart of the universe, so the little word prays to the great Logos, so a dust speck prays to the earth, so the earth prays to the cosmos, so the one prays to the billion, so human love prays to God’s love, so always prays to never, so the moment prays to eternity, so the snowflake prays to winter, so the frightened beast prays to the forest silence, so uncertainty prays to beauty itself.<\/p>\n

And all these prayers are heard.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Anna Kamieńska [source<\/em><\/a>]) <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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

Hazy Shade Of Winter<\/strong><\/p>\n

Time, time, time
\nSee what’s become of me
\nWhile I looked around for my possibilities
\nI was so hard to please
\nBut look around
\nLeaves are brown
\nAnd the sky is a hazy shade of winter<\/p>\n

Hear the Salvation Army band
\nDown by the riverside’s
\nBound to be a better ride
\nThan what you’ve got planned
\nCarry your cup in your hand
\nAnd look around you
\nLeaves are brown, now
\nAnd the sky is a hazy shade of winter<\/p>\n

Hang on to your hopes, my friend
\nThat’s an easy thing to say
\nBut if your hopes should pass away
\nSimply pretend
\nThat you can build them again
\nLook around
\nThe grass is high
\nThe fields are ripe
\nIt’s the springtime of my life<\/p>\n

Seasons change with the scenery
\nWeaving time in a tapestry
\nWon’t you stop and remember me
\nAt any convenient time?
\nFunny how my memory skips
\nLooking over manuscripts
\nOf unpublished rhyme
\nDrinking my vodka and lime
\nI look around
\nLeaves are brown
\nAnd the sky is a hazy shade of winter
\nLook around
\nLeaves are brown
\nThere’s a patch of snow on the ground
\nLook around
\nLeaves are brown
\nThere’s a patch of snow on the ground…<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Paul Simon [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

6<\/strong><\/p>\n

What form or shape to describe?
\nWhat second one is there to see?
\nAt first, no Om or Veda—
\nwho can trace his ancestry?
\nNo starry sky,
\nno moon or sun,
\nno father’s seed,
\nno calm air,
\nsea or land—
\nwho can name him
\nor know his command?
\nNo night or day—
\nhis race and family
\nwho can say?<\/p>\n

Remembering the empty, the easy,
\na light broke out.
\nI offer myself to a being
\nbased on nothing.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n

Petition<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the temple, a pear blackens in a statue’s palm.
\nBirds steal the grain. A man climbs the steps
\nholding his severed hand, but no miracle occurs.<\/p>\n

His body refuses to reach out and claim what it lost.
\nA woman in a white dress waits to be overshadowed
\nas she plucks her eyelashes—one for the horses,<\/p>\n

one for the rain, one for the hair on the back
\nof her lover’s hands. She wants her virtue
\nrestored, to return to a morning when her skin<\/p>\n

was new and unwounded, when her mouth still fit
\nher mother’s breast. You came to ask if it’s true,
\nif angels weep until their faces become human,<\/p>\n

and if the dead can escape their tombs, then—
\nYou trap wind as it enters the statue’s mouth,
\nand command it to rise, walk.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Traci Brimhall [source<\/em><\/a>])<\/p>\n

<\/a>_____________________________<\/p>\n

About the image:<\/strong> In general, this patent describes a method of insulating a space from sound, using a grid of empty cells (formed from concrete, wood, or rock) fastened together using a particular combination of pegs, or pins, and interlocking grooves. (The system also can provide “structural, sound barrier and resistance to earthquake.”) Figure 5 interested me, particularly in the context of today’s rumination, because the fastening shown here does not comprise many other parts: the assembly is held together “without the pins nor the end grooves. Instead of the pins, each parallel block… is wrapped in cross or transversal tape with adhesive fibreglass.” The web of tape thus forms an outer void containing all the inner ones.<\/p>\n

[return to top<\/a>]<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: Figure 5 from US Patent #US 20140215949 A1: “65 db SOUND BARRIER INSULATED BLOCK.” For more information, see the note at the foot of this post.] From whiskey river: When I was younger I thought my knowledge would increase with years, that it was steadily expanding like the universe. A constantly widening area 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":"Annie Dillard, Paul Simon, and others: 'Void, Not-Void, and Everything in Between'","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":[247,1393,95,17,5,251,4159],"tags":[295,2313,4342,4343,4344,4345,4347],"class_list":{"0":"post-18197","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-ruminations","7":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","8":"category-science-medicine","9":"category-04_technology","10":"category-06_writing","11":"category-poetry-writing_cat","12":"category-essays","13":"tag-annie-dillard","14":"tag-paul-simon","15":"tag-jens-christian-grondahl","16":"tag-anna-kamienska","17":"tag-traci-brimhall","18":"tag-kabir","19":"tag-patents","20":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-4Jv","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18197","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=18197"}],"version-history":[{"count":24,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18197\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18222,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18197\/revisions\/18222"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18197"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18197"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18197"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}