{"id":20605,"date":"2018-10-05T06:42:02","date_gmt":"2018-10-05T10:42:02","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=20605"},"modified":"2018-10-05T06:42:02","modified_gmt":"2018-10-05T10:42:02","slug":"a-luxurious-bite-of-the-present","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2018\/10\/a-luxurious-bite-of-the-present\/","title":{"rendered":"A Luxurious Bite of the Present"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"Image:<\/a><\/p>\n

[Image: “Please Do Not Obstruct (Ludlow, UK),” by John E. Simpson (shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page<\/a> at RAMH).]<\/em><\/p>\n

From whiskey river<\/em><\/a> (italicized lines):<\/p>\n

Ode to the Present<\/strong><\/p>\n

This
\npresent moment,
\nsmooth
\nas a wooden slab,
\nthis
\nimmaculate hour,
\nthis day
\npure
\nas a new cup
\nfrom the past—
\nno spider web
\nexists—
\nwith our fingers,
\nwe caress
\nthe present; we cut it
\naccording to our magnitude
\nwe guide
\nthe unfolding of its blossoms.
\nIt is living,
\nalive—
\nit contains
\nnothing
\nfrom the unrepairable past,
\nfrom the lost past,
\nit is our
\ninfant,
\ngrowing at
\nthis very moment, adorned with
\nsand, eating from
\nour hands.
\nGrab it.
\nDon’t let it slip away.
\nDon’t lose it in dreams
\nor words.
\nClutch it.
\nTie it,
\nand order it
\nto obey you.
\nMake it a road,
\na bell,
\na machine,
\na kiss, a book,
\na caress.
\nTake a saw to its delicious
\nwooden
\nperfume.
\nAnd make a chair;
\nbraid its
\nback;
\ntest it.
\nOr then, build
\na staircase! Yes, a
\nstaircase.
\nClimb
\ninto
\nthe present,
\nstep
\nby step,
\npress your feet
\nonto the resinous wood
\nof this moment,
\ngoing up,
\ngoing up,
\nnot very high,
\njust so
\nyou repair
\nthe leaky roof.
\nDon’t go all the way to heaven.
\nReach
\nfor apples,
\nnot the clouds.
\nLet them
\nfluff through the sky,
\nskimming passage,
\ninto the past. You<\/em>
\nare<\/em>
\nyour present,<\/em>
\nyour own apple.<\/em>
\nPick it from<\/em>
\nyour tree.<\/em>
\nRaise it<\/em>
\nin your hand.<\/em>
\nIt’s gleaming,<\/em>
\nrich with stars.<\/em>
\nClaim it.<\/em>
\nTake a luxurious bite<\/em>
\nout of the present,<\/em>
\nand whistle along the road<\/em>
\nof your destiny.<\/em><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

…and<\/a>:<\/p>\n

Time is not a line but a dimension, like the dimensions of space. If you can bend space you can bend time also, and if you knew enough and could move faster than light you could travel backwards in time and exist in two places at once.<\/p>\n

It was my brother Stephen who told me that, when he wore his raveling maroon sweater to study in and spent a lot of time standing on his head so that the blood would run down into his brain and nourish it. I didn’t understand what he meant, but maybe he didn’t explain it very well. He was already moving away from the imprecision of words.<\/p>\n

But I began then to think of time as having a shape, something you could see, like a series of liquid transparencies, one laid on top of another. You don’t look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

<\/p>\n

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

Arlene and Esme<\/strong><\/p>\n

In our house we live with Arlene. My little sister has a plan.
\nShe has what they call a beginner\u2019s mind. She sees everything
\nfrom an un-given-up perspective. I\u2019m frightened; I know
\nArlene better than anyone; she knows me better. Esme says
\nif I\u2019m scared we can\u2019t win. But I am scared. Arlene drags me
\nover to the window where the black mould has made
\na map of Australia. Australia gives me trouble breathing,
\nit\u2019s so far away. Arlene points it out and I get the feeling
\nin my chest, my whole life in there twisted up like a snake.
\nIt could bite me or her. She puts a hand on my breastbone.
\nYou\u2019re not strong<\/em>. I want to tell her we can look after ourselves.
\nI want to tell her I\u2019m in charge now, but I can still see the dark
\nblur at the edges. I don\u2019t sleep anymore, my head is full
\nof this insomniac light. I lie awake watching over my sisters
\nand I listen to them breathe. Esme whispers that I should
\nwake her if I need to. I say I will, but I never do. Even when
\nI sleep I dream I can\u2019t sleep and I\u2019m standing there looking
\ndown at them, the night pouring from my hands. Esme has
\na future in mind. She\u2019s always laughing. She gets up early
\nand makes buttermilk pancakes using normal milk soured
\nwith lemon juice. She tries things out. Arlene tells us
\nto stay away from sharp things or we\u2019ll cut ourselves. Esme
\ndoes what she likes. She grates apple for a new recipe and
\ncuts her knuckle and laughs. I don\u2019t know if I can live my life.
\nI don\u2019t know if I can look after someone as unafraid as Esme.
\nI don\u2019t know how to change what I do, the way someone
\neating soup will, out of habit, bite down. Esme laughs; she\u2019s
\nserving up apple pancakes with banana and maple syrup
\nand she says, You are a whole person<\/em>. A row of mornings fan out.
\nAnd the pancakes are sweet and slightly gummy with a salt edge.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n

We are the driving ones<\/strong><\/p>\n

We are the driving ones.
\nAh, but the step of time:
\nthink of it as a dream
\nin what forever remains.<\/p>\n

All that is hurrying
\nsoon will be over with;
\nonly what lasts can bring
\nus to the truth.<\/p>\n

Young men, don’t put your trust
\ninto the trials of flight,
\ninto the hot and quick.<\/p>\n

All things already rest:
\ndarkness and morning light,
\nflower and book.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Rainer Maria Rilke [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n

…and:<\/p>\n

On April 14, 1977, at dawn, I saw a cloud in the west from an island in the Pacific Northwest. The cloud looked like a fish fillet. Recently, hundreds of volunteers searched the world\u2019s skies, but they could not find the cloud again.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

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

[Image: “Please Do Not Obstruct (Ludlow, UK),” by John E. Simpson (shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page at RAMH).] From whiskey river (italicized lines): Ode to the Present This present moment, smooth as a wooden slab, this immaculate hour, this day pure as a new cup from the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":20610,"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":"Pablo Neruda, Rainer Maria Rilke, Emily Berry, et al.: 'A Luxurious Bite of the Present'","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":[183,247,1393,4701,250,5,251,3477],"tags":[295,1078,1645,1926,2723,4067,4378],"class_list":{"0":"post-20605","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-everyday-life","8":"category-ruminations","9":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","10":"category-my-photography","11":"category-art","12":"category-06_writing","13":"category-poetry-writing_cat","14":"category-fantasy-06_writing","15":"tag-annie-dillard","16":"tag-rainer-maria-rilke","17":"tag-margaret-atwood","18":"tag-pablo-neruda","19":"tag-the-all-in-the-moment","20":"tag-emily-berry","21":"tag-the-moment","22":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/pleasedonotobstruct_johnesimpson_thumb.jpg?fit=500%2C500&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-5ml","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20605","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=20605"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20605\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20609,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/20605\/revisions\/20609"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/20610"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=20605"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=20605"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=20605"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}