{"id":28319,"date":"2025-05-23T11:43:59","date_gmt":"2025-05-23T15:43:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=28319"},"modified":"2025-05-23T11:44:05","modified_gmt":"2025-05-23T15:44:05","slug":"when-i-walked-onto-the-strand-i-recognized-nothing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2025\/05\/when-i-walked-onto-the-strand-i-recognized-nothing\/","title":{"rendered":"When I Walked onto the Strand, I Recognized Nothing"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

[Image: “The Strand at Carmel-by-the-Sea,” by John E. Simpson.\u00a0(Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see\u00a0this page<\/a>\u00a0at\u00a0<\/em><\/em><\/em>RAMH.)<\/em><\/em>]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

From whiskey river’s commonplace book<\/a><\/em> (the third stanza included there; this is the complete poem):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

On Living<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Living is no laughing matter:
        you must live with great seriousness
                like a squirrel, for example—
        I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,
                I mean living must be your whole occupation.
Living is no laughing matter:
        you must take it seriously,
        so much so and to such a degree
      that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,
                                your back to the wall,
        or else in a laboratory
                in your white coat and safety glasses,
                you can die for people—
             even for people whose faces you’ve never seen,
             even though you know living
                is the most real, the most beautiful thing.
        I mean, you must take living so seriously
             that even at seventy, for example, you’ll plant olive trees—
             and not for your children, either,
             but because although you fear death you don’t believe it,
             because living, I mean, weighs heavier.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

II<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Let’s\u00a0say\u00a0you’re\u00a0seriously\u00a0ill,\u00a0need\u00a0surgery—
which\u00a0is\u00a0to\u00a0say\u00a0we\u00a0might\u00a0not\u00a0get
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0from\u00a0the\u00a0white\u00a0table.
Even\u00a0though\u00a0it’s\u00a0impossible\u00a0not\u00a0to\u00a0feel\u00a0sad
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0about\u00a0going\u00a0a\u00a0little\u00a0too\u00a0soon,
we’ll\u00a0still\u00a0laugh\u00a0at\u00a0the\u00a0jokes\u00a0being\u00a0told,
we’ll\u00a0look\u00a0out\u00a0the\u00a0window\u00a0to\u00a0see\u00a0it’s\u00a0raining,
or\u00a0still\u00a0wait\u00a0anxiously
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0for\u00a0the\u00a0latest\u00a0newscast…
Let’s\u00a0say\u00a0we’re\u00a0at\u00a0the\u00a0front—
\u00a0\u00a0for\u00a0something\u00a0worth\u00a0fighting\u00a0for,\u00a0say.
There,\u00a0in\u00a0the\u00a0first\u00a0offensive,\u00a0on\u00a0that\u00a0very\u00a0day,
\u00a0\u00a0we\u00a0might\u00a0fall\u00a0on\u00a0our\u00a0face,\u00a0dead.
We’ll\u00a0know\u00a0this\u00a0with\u00a0a\u00a0curious\u00a0anger,
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0but\u00a0we’ll\u00a0still\u00a0worry\u00a0ourselves\u00a0to\u00a0death
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0about\u00a0the\u00a0outcome\u00a0of\u00a0the\u00a0war,\u00a0which\u00a0could\u00a0last\u00a0years.
Let’s\u00a0say\u00a0we’re\u00a0in\u00a0prison
and\u00a0close\u00a0to\u00a0fifty,
and\u00a0we\u00a0have\u00a0eighteen\u00a0more\u00a0years,\u00a0say,\u00a0
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0before\u00a0the\u00a0iron\u00a0doors\u00a0will\u00a0open.
We’ll\u00a0still\u00a0live\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0outside,
with\u00a0its\u00a0people\u00a0and\u00a0animals,\u00a0struggle\u00a0and\u00a0wind—
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I\u00a0mean\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0outside\u00a0beyond\u00a0the\u00a0walls.
I\u00a0mean,\u00a0however\u00a0and\u00a0wherever\u00a0we\u00a0are,
\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0we\u00a0must\u00a0live\u00a0as\u00a0if\u00a0we\u00a0will\u00a0never\u00a0die.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

III<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This earth will grow cold,
a star among stars
               and one of the smallest,
a gilded mote on blue velvet—
  I mean this<\/em>, our great earth.
This earth will grow cold one day,
not like a block of ice
or a dead cloud even 
but like an empty walnut it will roll along
  in pitch-black space… 
You must grieve for this right now
—you have to feel this sorrow now—
for the world must be loved this much
                               if you\u2019re going to say \u201cI lived\u201d…<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(N\u00e2zim Hikmet, translated by Randy Blasing and Mutlu Konuk [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and (in slightly different form):<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Our purpose is to consciously, deliberately evolve toward a wiser, more liberated and luminous state of being, to return to Eden, make friends with the snake, and set up our computers among the wild apple trees. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Deep down, all of us are probably aware that some kind of mystical evolution\u2014a melding into the godhead, into love\u2014is our true task. Yet we suppress the notion with considerable force be-cause to admit it is to acknowledge that most of our political gyrations, religious dogmas, social ambitions, and financial ploys are not merely counterproductive but trivial. Our mission is to jettison those pointless preoccupations and take on once again the primordial cargo of inexhaustible ecstasy. Or, barring that, to turn out a good thin-crust pizza and a strong glass of beer.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

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

\n

The history of science can, in fact, be viewed as the recasting of phenomena that were once accepted as \u201cgivens\u201d as phenomena that can now be understood in terms of fundamental causes and principles. One can add to the list of the fully explained: the hue of the sky, the orbits of planets, the angle of the wake of a boat moving through a lake, the six-sided patterns of snowflakes, the weight of a flying bustard, the temperature of boiling water, the size of raindrops, the circular shape of the sun. All of these phenomena and many more, once thought to have been fixed at the beginning of time or the result of random events thereafter, have ultimately been explained as necessary consequences of the fundamental laws of nature\u2014laws found by us human beings.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The Doctor Sighs<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

as he removes the otoscope
It\u2019s not just the hammer,<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

anvil, and stirrup, he says.
It\u2019s the blacksmith, too.
And the dry goods store
with the weaselly clerk,
not to mention the saloon
rife with cowboys and
a prostitute with humble
cleavage. And I’m afraid
it\u2019s also the calibrated hearts
in that freezing ten-room
hotel, the mayor’s daughter
weeping into well water,
the moon spreading its
anxious light over everything<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In short, Ronald, I’m not
surprised you called
for an appointment today.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

# 28 (“I See What You Did There”):<\/strong> The history of art and philosophy can, in fact, be viewed as the recasting of phenomena that have never been accepted as \u201cgivens\u201d as real<\/em> phenomena that cannot be understood entirely, if at all, in terms of fundamental causes and principles. One can add to the list of the inadequately explained: the circular shape of the sky, the six-sided patterns of planets, the hue of the wake of a bustard moving through a lake, the angle of snowflakes, the temperature of a flying boat, the orbits of water, the size of raindrops, the boiling weight of the sun. None of these phenomena, and many more, are explicable as necessary consequences of the fundamental laws of nature–laws found by us human beings. But there they are: comprehensible, apparently meaningful, even profound, but defying explanation.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(JES, Maxims for Nostalgists<\/em>)<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

The human body is the most resistant thing there is to magic, \u2019cause it\u2019s a vessel of will.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(T.L. Huchu [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: “The Strand at Carmel-by-the-Sea,” by John E. Simpson.\u00a0(Photo shared here under a Creative Commons License; for more information, see\u00a0this page\u00a0at\u00a0RAMH.)] From whiskey river’s commonplace book (the third stanza included there; this is the complete poem): On Living I Living is no laughing matter:        you must live with great seriousness                like a squirrel, for example—        I mean without looking for something beyond and above living,                I mean living must be your whole occupation.Living is no laughing matter:        you must take it seriously,        so much so and to such a degree      that, for example, your hands tied behind your back,                                your back to the wall,        or else in a laboratory                in your white coat and safety glasses,                you can die for people—             even for people whose faces you’ve never seen,             even though you know living                is the most real, the most beautiful thing.        I mean, you must take living so seriously             that even at seventy, for example, you’ll plant olive trees—             and not for your children, either,             but because although you fear death you don’t believe it,             because living, I mean, weighs heavier. II Let’s\u00a0say\u00a0you’re\u00a0seriously\u00a0ill,\u00a0need\u00a0surgery—which\u00a0is\u00a0to\u00a0say\u00a0we\u00a0might\u00a0not\u00a0get \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0from\u00a0the\u00a0white\u00a0table.Even\u00a0though\u00a0it’s\u00a0impossible\u00a0not\u00a0to\u00a0feel\u00a0sad \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0about\u00a0going\u00a0a\u00a0little\u00a0too\u00a0soon,we’ll\u00a0still\u00a0laugh\u00a0at\u00a0the\u00a0jokes\u00a0being\u00a0told,we’ll\u00a0look\u00a0out\u00a0the\u00a0window\u00a0to\u00a0see\u00a0it’s\u00a0raining,or\u00a0still\u00a0wait\u00a0anxiously \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0for\u00a0the\u00a0latest\u00a0newscast…Let’s\u00a0say\u00a0we’re\u00a0at\u00a0the\u00a0front— \u00a0\u00a0for\u00a0something\u00a0worth\u00a0fighting\u00a0for,\u00a0say.There,\u00a0in\u00a0the\u00a0first\u00a0offensive,\u00a0on\u00a0that\u00a0very\u00a0day, \u00a0\u00a0we\u00a0might\u00a0fall\u00a0on\u00a0our\u00a0face,\u00a0dead.We’ll\u00a0know\u00a0this\u00a0with\u00a0a\u00a0curious\u00a0anger,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0but\u00a0we’ll\u00a0still\u00a0worry\u00a0ourselves\u00a0to\u00a0death\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0about\u00a0the\u00a0outcome\u00a0of\u00a0the\u00a0war,\u00a0which\u00a0could\u00a0last\u00a0years.Let’s\u00a0say\u00a0we’re\u00a0in\u00a0prisonand\u00a0close\u00a0to\u00a0fifty,and\u00a0we\u00a0have\u00a0eighteen\u00a0more\u00a0years,\u00a0say,\u00a0 \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0before\u00a0the\u00a0iron\u00a0doors\u00a0will\u00a0open.We’ll\u00a0still\u00a0live\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0outside,with\u00a0its\u00a0people\u00a0and\u00a0animals,\u00a0struggle\u00a0and\u00a0wind— \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0I\u00a0mean\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0outside\u00a0beyond\u00a0the\u00a0walls.I\u00a0mean,\u00a0however\u00a0and\u00a0wherever\u00a0we\u00a0are,\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0we\u00a0must\u00a0live\u00a0as\u00a0if\u00a0we\u00a0will\u00a0never\u00a0die. III This earth will grow cold, a star among stars                and one of the smallest, a gilded mote on blue velvet—   I mean this, our great earth. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":28337,"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":"","activitypub_max_image_attachments":3,"activitypub_interaction_policy_quote":"anyone","activitypub_status":"federated","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Alan Lightman, Nazim Hikmet, a Maxim for Nostalgists, et al.: 'When I Walked onto the Strand, I Recognized Nothing'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[247,1393,4701,250,4878,251,4159],"tags":[9,122,904,1615,1813,2700,3254,3285,3575,3810,5596,6125,6126],"class_list":{"0":"post-28319","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-ruminations","8":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","9":"category-my-photography","10":"category-art","11":"category-fiction","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-language","15":"tag-imagination","16":"tag-meaning","17":"tag-reality","18":"tag-nazim-hikmet","19":"tag-tom-robbins","20":"tag-ron-koertge","21":"tag-maxims-for-nostalgists","22":"tag-science","23":"tag-alan-lightman","24":"tag-t-l-huchu","25":"tag-randy-blasing","26":"tag-mutlu-konuk","27":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/05\/onthestrandatcarmel_johnesimpson_med.jpg?fit=1024%2C769&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7mL","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28319","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=28319"}],"version-history":[{"count":17,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28319\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":28374,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/28319\/revisions\/28374"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/28337"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=28319"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=28319"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=28319"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}