{"id":27803,"date":"2025-01-03T10:53:21","date_gmt":"2025-01-03T15:53:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=27803"},"modified":"2025-01-03T10:53:27","modified_gmt":"2025-01-03T15:53:27","slug":"finding-your-way-on-the-route-you-already-know","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2025\/01\/finding-your-way-on-the-route-you-already-know\/","title":{"rendered":"Finding Your Way on the Route You Already Know"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

[Image: “Homeward (2019),” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page<\/a> at <\/em>RAMH.)]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From whiskey river’s commonplace book<\/a><\/em>:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The Dead<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

At night the dead come down to the river to drink.
They unburden themselves of their fears,
their worries for us. They take out the old photographs.
They pat the lines in our hands and tell our futures,
which are cracked and yellow.
Some dead find their way to our houses.
They go up to the attics.
They read the letters they sent us, insatiable
for signs of their love.
They tell each other stories.
They make so much noise
they wake us
as they did when we were children and they stayed up
drinking all night in the kitchen.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Not only is there no guarantee of the temporal immortality of the human soul, that is to say of its eternal survival after death; but, in any case, this assumption completely fails to accomplish the purpose for which it has always been intended. Or is some riddle solved by my surviving for ever? Is not this eternal life itself as much of a riddle as our present life? The solution of the riddle of life in space and time lies outside<\/em> space and time.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

One afternoon, a man named Harry went mountain climbing. All in all, things were going very well. Then suddenly, the path he was walking on gave way, taking Harry with it. With flailing arms, Harry managed to grab a small branch on the side of the mountain. Holding on for dear life, he screamed, “Help! Help! Is anybody up there?” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Miraculously, the clouds parted, and a beam of light illuminated Harry as he hung tenuously from the branch. A voice—clearly the voice of God—spoke directly to Harry and said: “Harry, I will save you. Let go, Harry; I will save you. Let go.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Harry thought hard about this. Then, with a sudden burst of conviction, he looked up the mountain and shouted, “Is anybody else<\/em> up there?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

(Benjamin Shield [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

From elsewhere:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

I confessed that I had a burning desire to be excellent, but no faith that I could be.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Martha said to me, very quietly: \u201cThere is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique. And if you block it, it will never exist through any other medium and it will be lost. The world will not have it. It is not your business to determine how good it is nor how valuable nor how it compares with other expressions. It is your business to keep it yours clearly and directly, to keep the channel open. You do not even have to believe in yourself or your work. You have to keep yourself open and aware to the urges that motivate you. Keep the channel open. As for you, Agnes, you have so far used about one-third of your talent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut,\u201d I said, \u201cwhen I see my work I take for granted what other people value in it. I see only its ineptitude, inorganic flaws, and crudities. I am not pleased or satisfied.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo artist is pleased.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut then there is no satisfaction?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo satisfaction whatever at any time,\u201d she cried out passionately. \u201cThere is only a queer divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Agnes De Mille, in conversation with Martha Graham [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Glory-of-the-Atlantic
(excerpt)<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s early, low tide, the beach just coming to life:
devout ladies davening in lounge chairs,
the homeless roused from hard-worn sleeping bags,
joggers, skulkers, cabana boys unfolding hotel umbrellas,
icing down the day\u2019s allotment of Michelob Ultra.
Tourists are wandering down from the boardwalk
to the timidly breaking surf, couples from Toronto,
jet-lagged families from France and Brazil,
dazed, sun-dazzled, amazed\u2014one guy actually
staggers at the water\u2019s edge, staring straight past me,
and I can see on his face what he wants to know\u2014
am I still on the plane, am I sleeping, or is this real?<\/em>
Before he can ask, I slide from the sandbar
backward into the water\u2019s warm, saline embrace.
Of course it signifies the womb as well as the void.
Of course death absorbs the living, a mirror
made of sponge. Of course we travel between realms
far exceeding in mystery water, earth, and air.
Of course we leave behind a mark, a volt,
a wave-eaten relic. Of course nothing endures
but that which forges its armature of grief,
the soul. Of course it\u2019s real, of course it\u2019s a dream,
you\u2019re adrift, you\u2019re asleep, you\u2019re on a plane
traversing tropospheric darkness, you\u2019re watching
sunlight strike prisms against the windows of your eyes,
you\u2019re underwater, it\u2019s real, it\u2019s a dream,
a voyage, an immersion\u2014any day now, any century,
any minute we will arrive at our final destination.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

[Image: “Homeward (2019),” by John E. Simpson. (Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see this page at RAMH.)] From whiskey river’s commonplace book: The Dead At night the dead come down to the river to drink.They unburden themselves of their fears,their worries for us. They take out the old photographs.They […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":27806,"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":null,"activitypub_content_visibility":null,"activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federate","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Susan Mitchell, Campbell McGrath, et al.: 'Finding Your Way on the Route You Already Know'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[183,247,1393,4701,250,251,4159],"tags":[1324,1888,3173,4529,4976,5303,5324,6037,6038],"class_list":{"0":"post-27803","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-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-lost-and-found","15":"tag-martha-graham","16":"tag-susan-mitchell","17":"tag-campbell-mcgrath","18":"tag-destinations","19":"tag-journeys","20":"tag-ludwig-wittgenstein","21":"tag-alice-de-mille","22":"tag-benjamin-shield","23":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/01\/P1020682.jpg?fit=1152%2C2048&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7er","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27803","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=27803"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27803\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":27809,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/27803\/revisions\/27809"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/27806"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=27803"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=27803"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=27803"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}