{"id":29184,"date":"2026-01-09T09:54:29","date_gmt":"2026-01-09T14:54:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=29184"},"modified":"2026-01-09T09:54:57","modified_gmt":"2026-01-09T14:54:57","slug":"creatures-set-down-here-bewildered","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2026\/01\/creatures-set-down-here-bewildered\/","title":{"rendered":"Creatures Set Down Here Bewildered"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n

[Image: <\/em>Pogo daily comic strip from February 18, 1959; spotted on FaceBook.]<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

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

\n

Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us with wisdom, courage, and the possibility of meaningfulness, and will press upon our minds the deepest mysteries, so that we may feel again their majesty and power? What do we ever know that is higher than that power which, from time to time, seizes our lives, and reveals us startlingly to ourselves as creatures set down here bewildered?<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Of Heaven and Hell<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Inferno of God is not in need of
the splendor of fire. When, at the end of things,
Judgment Day resounds on the trumpets
and the earth opens and yields up its entrails
and nations reconstruct themselves from dust
to bow down before the unappealable Judgment,
eyes then will not see the nine circles
within the inverted mountain, nor the pale
meadow of perennial asphodels
in which the shadow of the archer follows
the shadow of the deer, eternally,
nor the ridge of fire on the very lowest level
of the infernos of the Muslim faith,
antedating Adam and the Fall,
nor the violence of metals, not even
the almost visible blindness of Milton.
No fearful labyrinth of threefold iron,
no doleful fires of suffering, will oppress
the awestruck spirits of the damned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Nor does the far point of the years conceal
a secret garden. God does not require —
to celebrate the merits of the good life —
globes of light, concentric theories
of thrones and heavenly powers and cherubim,
nor the beguiling mirror that is music,
nor all the many meanings in a rose,
nor the fateful splendor of a single
one of his tigers, nor the subtleties
of a sunset turning gold in the desert,
nor the immemorial, natal taste of water.
In God’s infinite compass, there are no gardens,
no flash of hope, no glint of memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the clear glass of a dream, I have glimpsed
the Heaven and Hell that lie in wait for us:
when Judgment Day sounds in the last trumpets
and planet and millennium both
disintegrate, and all at once, O Time,
all your ephemeral pyramids cease to be,
the colors and the lines that trace the past
will in the semi-darkness form a face,
a sleeping face, faithful, still, unchangeable
(the face of the loved one, or, perhaps, your own)
and the sheer contemplation of that face —
never-changing, whole, beyond corruption —
will be, for the rejected, an Inferno,
and, for the elected, Paradise.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Jorge Luis Borges [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Any man, in the right situation, is capable of being a great lover. But not every man can say, “The sixth sick sheik’s sixth sheep’s sick.” In conclusion, great lovers and tongue twisters are not as similar as you might think.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

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

\n

August 12 in the Nebraska Sand Hills Watching the Perseids Meteor Shower<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the middle of rolling grasslands, away from lights,
a moonless night untethers its wild polka-dots,
the formations we can name competing for attention
in a twinkling and crowded sky-bowl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Out from the corners, our eyes detect a maverick meteor,
a transient streak, and lying back toward midnight
on the heft of car hood, all conversation blunted,
we are at once unnerved and somehow restored.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Out here, a furrow of spring-fed river threads
through ranches in the tens of thousands of acres.
Like cattle, we are powerless, by instinct can see
why early people trembled and deliberated the heavens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Off in the distance those cattle make themselves known,
a bird song moves singular across the horizon.
Not yet 2:00, and bits of comet dust, the Perseids,
startle and skim the atmosphere like skipping stones.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the leaden dark, we are utterly alone. As I rub the ridges
on the back of your hand, our love for all things warm
and pulsing crescendos toward dawn: this timeless awe,
your breath floating with mine upward into the stars.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Twyla M. Hansen [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n\n\n\n

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Perhaps all mystical experience is coincidence. Or vice versa, of course.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

They eat out<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

In restaurants we argue
over which of us will pay for your funeral<\/p>\n\n\n\n

though the real question is
whether or not I will make you immortal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At the moment only I
can do it and so<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I raise the magic fork
over the plate of beef fried rice<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and plunge it into your heart.
There is a faint pop, a sizzle<\/p>\n\n\n\n

and through your own split head
you rise up glowing;<\/p>\n\n\n\n

the ceiling opens
a voice sings Love Is A Many<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Splendoured Thing
you hang suspended above the city<\/p>\n\n\n\n

in blue tights and a red cape,
your eyes flashing in unison.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The other diners regard you
some with awe, some only with boredom:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

they cannot decide if you are a new weapon
or only a new advertisement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As for me, I continue eating;
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

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

…and:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n

Sometimes I think we’re alone in the universe, and sometimes I think we’re not. In either case the idea is quite staggering.<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

(Likely Arthur C. Clarke, via Stanley Kubrick [source<\/a><\/em>])<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

[Image: Pogo daily comic strip from February 18, 1959; spotted on FaceBook.] From whiskey river’s commonplace book: Why are we reading if not in hope that the writer will magnify and dramatize our days, will illuminate and inspire us with wisdom, courage, and the possibility of meaningfulness, and will press upon our minds the deepest […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29189,"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":"federated","footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"Annie Dillard, Walt Kelly, et al.: 'Creatures Set Down Here Bewildered'","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[183,247,1393,273,4878,251,4159],"tags":[295,1079,1080,1459,1645,3509,3535,4527,5190,6250,6251,6252],"class_list":{"0":"post-29184","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-comics","11":"category-fiction","12":"category-poetry-writing_cat","13":"category-essays","14":"tag-annie-dillard","15":"tag-pogo","16":"tag-walt-kelly","17":"tag-jorge-luis-borges","18":"tag-margaret-atwood","19":"tag-arthur-c-clarke","20":"tag-stanley-kubrick","21":"tag-wonder","22":"tag-twyla-hansen","23":"tag-mike-topp","24":"tag-tom-stoppard","25":"tag-awe","26":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/01\/pogoconfuseabat_19590218.jpg?fit=1200%2C354&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-7AI","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29184","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=29184"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29184\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":29197,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/29184\/revisions\/29197"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/29189"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=29184"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=29184"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=29184"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}