{"id":2962,"date":"2009-01-23T07:34:19","date_gmt":"2009-01-23T12:34:19","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/?p=2962"},"modified":"2009-08-28T15:37:30","modified_gmt":"2009-08-28T19:37:30","slug":"the-satisfactions-of-the-small-found-in-the-large","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/2009\/01\/the-satisfactions-of-the-small-found-in-the-large\/","title":{"rendered":"The Satisfactions of the Small, Found in the Large"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

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

Only horizon and sky are given up easily. Take the numbing distance in small doses and gorge on the little details that beckon.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(William Least Heat-Moon)<\/p>\n

Not from whiskey river (one of The Missus’s favorite poems):<\/p>\n

I Am Too Near<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am too near to be dreamt of by him.
\nI do not fly over him, do not escape from him
\nunder the roots of a tree. I am too near.
\nNot in my voice sings the fish in the net,
\nnot from my finger rolls the ring.
\nI am too near. A big house is on fire
\nwithout me, calling for help. Too near
\nfor a bell dangling from my hair to chime.
\nToo near to enter as a guest
\nbefore whom walls glide apart by themselves.
\nNever again will I die so lightly,
\nso much beyond my flesh, so inadvertently
\nas once in his dream. Too near.
\nI taste the sound, I see the glittering husk of this word
\nas I lie immobile in his embrace. He sleeps,
\nmore accessible now to her, seen but once,
\na cashier of a wandering circus with one lion,
\nthan to me, who am at his side.
\nFor her now in him a valley grows,
\nrusty-leaved, closed by a snowy mountain
\nin the dark blue air. I am too near
\nto fall to him from the sky. My scream
\ncould wake him up. Poor thing
\nI am, limited to my shape,
\nI who was a birch, who was a lizard,
\nwho would come out of my cocoons
\nshimmering the colors of my skins. Who possessed
\nthe grace of disappearing from astonished eyes,
\nwhich is a wealth of wealths. I am near,
\ntoo near for him to dream of me.
\nI slide my arm from under the sleeper’s had
\nand it is numb, full of swarming pins,
\non the tip of each, waiting to be counted,
\nthe fallen angels sit.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

(Wislawa Szymborska<\/a>;
\ntranslation by Czeslaw Milosz)<\/p>\n

Finally, an undisputed master at the reverse: finding large things in the small (click Play button to start)<\/em>:<\/p>\n

[audio:billcosbychickenheart.mp3|titles=’Chicken Heart’|artists=Bill Cosby]<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

From whiskey river: Only horizon and sky are given up easily. Take the numbing distance in small doses and gorge on the little details that beckon. (William Least Heat-Moon) Not from whiskey river (one of The Missus’s favorite poems): I Am Too Near I am too near to be dreamt of by him. I do […]<\/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":"","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":[183,16,38,247,1393,713],"tags":[178,920,921,922,923,924],"class_list":{"0":"post-2962","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-everyday-life","7":"category-themissus","8":"category-backwards","9":"category-ruminations","10":"category-whiskey-river-runningaftermyhat","11":"category-humor-writing_cat","12":"tag-whiskey-river","13":"tag-william-least-heat-moon","14":"tag-wislawa-szymborska","15":"tag-i-am-too-near","16":"tag-bill-cosby","17":"tag-chicken-heart","18":"entry"},"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p6kZSG-LM","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2962","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=2962"}],"version-history":[{"count":14,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2962\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2975,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2962\/revisions\/2975"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2962"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2962"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/johnesimpson.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2962"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}