"I need a photo opportunity . . . ." — Paul Simon song lyric
Thursday, October 17, 2024
October Harvest . . . “Who’s on First?”
Tuesday, September 17, 2024
Tuesday, November 19, 2019
The Harvest Conjecture
From Harvest Moon Day, 2019 —
From yesterday —
From St. Bridget's Day, 2012 —
See also Hermann Weyl and T. S. Eliot on time.
Tuesday, August 1, 2023
Adventures in Story Space
Season 2 Teaser of "The Peripheral" —
Non-fiction —
Monday, September 20, 2021
|
I did not attempt a solution of the above red-dot problem, but others
have done some related work —
Some related Log24 remarks: "The Dotted Line," Sept. 21, 2021.
Saturday, July 23, 2022
Myth Space
From the new URL mythspace.org, which forwards to . . .
http://m759.net/wordpress/?tag=mythspace —
From Middlemarch (1871-2), by George Eliot, Ch. III — "Dorothea by this time had looked deep into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Casaubon's mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her own experience to him, and had understood from him the scope of his great work, also of attractively labyrinthine extent. For he had been as instructive as Milton's 'affable archangel;' and with something of the archangelic manner he told her how he had undertaken to show (what indeed had been attempted before, but not with that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. Casaubon aimed) that all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the world were corruptions of a tradition originally revealed. Having once mastered the true position and taken a firm footing there, the vast field of mythical constructions became intelligible, nay, luminous with the reflected light of correspondences. But to gather in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy work." |
See also the term correspondence in this journal.
Saturday, January 8, 2022
Nah, I think I’ll skip Deadline.
Sunday, March 24, 2019
Espacement: Geometry of the Interstice in Literary Theory
"You said something about the significance of spaces between
elements being repeated. Not only the element itself being repeated,
but the space between. I'm very interested in the space between.
That is where we come together." — Peter Eisenman, 1982
https://www.parrhesiajournal.org/ Parrhesia No. 3 • 2007 • 22–32
(Up) Against the (In) Between: Interstitial Spatiality by Clare Blackburne Blackburne — www.parrhesiajournal.org 24 — "The excessive notion of espacement as the resurgent spatiality of that which is supposedly ‘without space’ (most notably, writing), alerts us to the highly dynamic nature of the interstice – a movement whose discontinuous and ‘aberrant’ nature requires further analysis." Blackburne — www.parrhesiajournal.org 25 — "Espacement also evokes the ambiguous figure of the interstice, and is related to the equally complex derridean notions of chora , différance , the trace and the supplement. Derrida’s reading of the Platonic chora in Chora L Works (a series of discussions with the architect Peter Eisenman) as something which defies the logics of non-contradiction and binarity, implies the internal heterogeneity and instability of all structures, neither ‘sensible’ nor ‘intelligible’ but a third genus which escapes conceptual capture.25 Crucially, chora , spacing, dissemination and différance are highly dynamic concepts, involving hybridity, an ongoing ‘corruption’ of categories, and a ‘bastard reasoning.’26 Derrida identification of différance in Margins of Philosophy , as an ‘unappropriable excess’ that operates through spacing as ‘the becoming-space of time or the becoming-time of space,’27 chimes with his description of chora as an ‘unidentifiable excess’ that is ‘the spacing which is the condition for everything to take place,’ opening up the interval as the plurivocity of writing in defiance of ‘origin’ and ‘essence.’28 In this unfolding of différance , spacing ‘insinuates into presence an interval,’29 again alerting us to the crucial role of the interstice in deconstruction, and, as Derrida observes in Positions , its impact as ‘a movement, a displacement that indicates an irreducible alterity’: ‘Spacing is the impossibility for an identity to be closed on itself, on the inside of its proper interiority, or on its coincidence with itself. The irreducibility of spacing is the irreducibility of the other.’30"
25. Quoted in Jeffrey Kipnis and Thomas Leeser, eds., 26. Ibid, 25.
27. Derrida, Margins of Philosophy. 28. Derrida, Chora L Works , 19 and 10. 29. Ibid, 203. 30. Derrida, Positions , 94. |
Saturday, January 5, 2019
Thursday, October 6, 2016
A Labyrinth for Octavio
The title refers to the previous post.
From Middlemarch (1871-2), by George Eliot, Ch. III — "Dorothea by this time had looked deep into the ungauged reservoir of Mr. Casaubon's mind, seeing reflected there in vague labyrinthine extension every quality she herself brought; had opened much of her own experience to him, and had understood from him the scope of his great work, also of attractively labyrinthine extent. For he had been as instructive as Milton's 'affable archangel;' and with something of the archangelic manner he told her how he had undertaken to show (what indeed had been attempted before, but not with that thoroughness, justice of comparison, and effectiveness of arrangement at which Mr. Casaubon aimed) that all the mythical systems or erratic mythical fragments in the world were corruptions of a tradition originally revealed. Having once mastered the true position and taken a firm footing there, the vast field of mythical constructions became intelligible, nay, luminous with the reflected light of correspondences. But to gather in this great harvest of truth was no light or speedy work." |
See also the term correspondence in this journal.
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Cork
The phrase "binary opposition" in the previous post suggests
a review of some binary-related concepts —
From a post on St. Finbarr's Day 2015 —
From http://www.chosentwo.com/buffy/quotes/harvest.php —
Buffy: So, Giles! Got anything that can make this day any worse?
Giles: This is what we know. Some sixty years ago, a very old, very powerful vampire came to this shore, not just to feed. |
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Passing in the Murk
Introduction to a review of two books in
The American Interest , June 17, 2014:
“A believer and an atheist seek out their antitheses.
Do they meet somewhere in the middle,
or pass in the murk of half-baked pseudo-syntheses?”
“Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, passing in the murk.”
Related material:
This morning’s passage by Friedrich Gundolf.
For some backstory, see Gundolf in
Secret Germany: Stefan George and His Circle ,
by Robert E. Norton, Cornell University Press, 2002.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Sleep Tale
For the late Carolyn Cassady, once a wife of Neal Cassady
(Dean Moriarty of Jack Kerouac's classic novel On the Road ).
She reportedly died at 90 in England on Friday, September 20,
2013.
From a post in this journal on the night of September 20-21,
with waning Harvest Moon:
Click on "Aooo" for some related posts, tagged "Howl."
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Sunday August 2, 2009
Spider Girl
"The 'magico-religious' tarantella
is a solo dance performed
supposedly to cure…
the delirium and contortions
attributed to the bite of a spider
at harvest (summer) time."
Moral:
Life's a dance
(and Jersey girls
are tough).
For Mira Sorvino, star of "Tarantella,"
who was raised in Tenafly, New Jersey–Bull on Sacred Cows:
"Poor late nineteenth-century, poor early twentieth-century! Oh, brave new world that had such people in it: people like Charles Darwin, Karl Marx, Friedrich Nietzsche, Sigmund Freud, Albert Einstein, Werner Heisenberg, Kurt Gödel. Seven people who did more than all the machine-guns and canons of the Somme Valley or the Panzer divisions of Hitler to end the old world and to create– if not the answers– at least the questions that started off the new, each one of them killing one of the sacred cows on which Western consciousness had fed for so long…."— Apostolos Doxiadis, "Writing Incompleteness-– the Play" (pdf).
See also Mathematics and Narrative.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Monday July 6, 2009
Virginia Woolf, The Waves, Harvest Books paperback, 1950, pp. 248-249:
“On the outskirts of every agony sits some observant fellow who points; who whispers as he whispered to me that summer morning in the house where the corn comes up to the window, ‘The willow grows on the turf by the river. The gardeners sweep with great brooms and the lady sits writing.’ Thus he directed me to that which is beyond and outside our own predicament; to that which is symbolic, and thus perhaps permanent, if there is any permanence in our sleeping, eating, breathing, so animal, so spiritual and tumultuous lives.”
Up to the first semicolon, this is the Associated Press thought for today.
Related aesthetic philosophy from The Washington Post:
“Varnedoe’s lectures were ultimately about faith, about his faith in the power of abstraction, and abstraction as a kind of anti-religious faith in itself, a church of American pragmatism that deals with the material stuff of experience in the history of art. To understand these lectures, which began promising an argument about how abstraction works and ended with an almost medieval allegory of how man confronts the void, one has to understand that Varnedoe views the history of abstraction as a pastor surveys the flock.”
|
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Sunday February 15, 2009
From April 28, 2008:
Religious Art
The black monolith of
One artistic shortcoming The following
One approach to "Transformations play See 4/28/08 for examples |
Related material:
From Wallace Stevens: A World of Transforming Shapes, by Alan D. Perlis, Bucknell University Press, 1976, pp. 117-118:
"… his point of origin is external nature, the fount to which we come seeking inspiration for our fictions. We come, many of Stevens's poems suggest, as initiates, ritualistically celebrating the place through which we will travel to achieve fictive shape. Stevens's 'real' is a bountiful place, continually giving forth life, continually changing. It is fertile enough to meet any imagination, as florid and as multifaceted as the tropical flora about which the poet often writes. It therefore naturally lends itself to rituals of spring rebirth, summer fruition, and fall harvest. But in Stevens's fictive world, these rituals are symbols: they acknowledge the real and thereby enable the initiate to pass beyond it into the realms of his fictions. Two counter rituals help to explain the function of celebration as Stevens envisions it. The first occurs in 'The Pediment of Appearance,' a slight narrative poem in Transport to Summer. A group of young men enter some woods 'Hunting for the great ornament, The pediment of appearance.' Though moving through the natural world, the young men seek the artificial, or pure form, believing that in discovering this pediment, this distillation of the real, they will also discover the 'savage transparence,' the rude source of human life. In Stevens's world, such a search is futile, since it is only through observing nature that one reaches beyond it to pure form. As if to demonstrate the degree to which the young men's search is misaligned, Stevens says of them that 'they go crying/The world is myself, life is myself,' believing that what surrounds them is immaterial. Such a proclamation is a cardinal violation of Stevens's principles of the imagination. For in 'Notes Toward a Supreme Fiction' he tells us that ... the first idea was not to shape the clouds In imitation. The clouds preceded us. There was a muddy centre before we breathed. There was a myth before the myth began, Venerable and articulate and complete. From this the poem springs: that we live in a place That is not our own and, much more, not ourselves And hard it is in spite of blazoned days. We are the mimics. (Collected Poems, 383-84) Believing that they are the life and not the mimics thereof, the world and not its fiction-forming imitators, these young men cannot find the savage transparence for which they are looking. In its place they find the pediment, a scowling rock that, far from being life's source, is symbol of the human delusion that there exists a 'form alone,' apart from 'chains of circumstance.' A far more productive ritual occurs in 'Sunday Morning.'…." |
For transformations of a more
specifically religious nature,
see the remarks on
Richard Strauss,
"Death and Transfiguration,"
(Tod und Verklärung, Opus 24)
in Mathematics and Metaphor
on July 31, 2008, and the entries
of August 3, 2008, related to the
death of Alexander Solzhenitsyn.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Saturday November 8, 2008
AEDIFICABO ECCLESIAM
MEAM ET PORTAE INFERI
NON PRAEVALEBUNT
ADVERSUS EAM
Benedict XVI, before he became Pope:
“… a purely harmonious concept of beauty is not enough…. Apollo, who for Plato’s Socrates was ‘the God’ and the guarantor of unruffled beauty as ‘the truly divine’ is absolutely no longer sufficient.”
“The lapis manalis (Latin: ‘stone of the Manes‘) was a name given to two sacred stones used in the Roman religion. One covered a gate to Hades, abode of the dead….
One such stone covered the mundus Cereris, a pit thought to contain an entrance to the underworld….
The… mundus was located in the Comitium, on the Palatine Hill. This stone was ceremonially opened three times a year, during which spirits of the blessed dead (the Manes) were able to commune with the living. The three days upon which the mundus was opened were August 24, October 5, and November 8. Fruits of the harvest were offered to the dead at this time.”
Log24 on
August 24,
October 5, and
November 8.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Sunday August 24, 2008
Yesterday’s entry, Absurdities, quoted Erich Heller:
“All relevant objective truths are born and die as absurdities. They come into being as the monstrous claim of an inspired rebel and pass away with the eccentricity of a superstitious crank.”
The context for this remarkable saying is Heller’s essay “The Hazard of Modern Poetry.” (See p. 270 in the links below.)
Discussing “the century of Pascal and Hobbes,” he says (see the link to p. 269 below) that
“… as for spiritual cunning, it was in the conceits of metaphysical poetry, in the self-conscious ambiguities of poetical language (there are, we are told, as many types of it as deadly sins), and in the paradoxes of Pascal’s religious thought. For ambiguity and paradox are the manner of speaking when reality and symbol, man’s mind and his soul, are at cross-purposes.”
Heller’s description of “relevant objective truths” as “absurdities” seems to be an instance of such ambiguity and paradox. For further details, see
The Disinherited Mind: Essays in Modern German Literature and Thought (Harvest paperback, 1975)–
“The Hazard of Modern Poetry” (pp. 263-300), Section 1, pages
263, 264, 265, 266, 267, 268, 269, 270, 271, 272.
For material related to Pascal, see the five Log24 entries ending on D-Day, 2008.
For material related to Hobbes, see the five Log24 entries ending on St. Patrick’s Day, 2007.
Monday, August 4, 2008
Monday August 4, 2008
Summer of ’36
Another Opening
of Another Show
“When I cast my mind back to that summer of 1936 different kinds of memories offer themselves to me. We got our first wireless set that summer– well, a sort of a set; and it obsessed us. And because it arrived as August was about to begin, my Aunt Maggie– she was the joker of the family– she suggested we give it a name. She wanted to call it Lugh after the old Celtic God of the Harvest. Because in the old days August the First was La Lughnasa, the feast day of the pagan god, Lugh; and the days and weeks of harvesting that followed were called the Festival of Lughnasa.”
“Dancing at Lughnasa”
From the film “Contact”–
Jodie Foster and the
opening of the 1936 Olympics
“Heraclitus…. says: ‘The ruler whose prophecy occurs at Delphi oute legei oute kryptei, neither gathers nor hides, alla semainei, but gives hints.'” — An Introduction to Metaphysics, by Martin Heidegger, Yale University Press paperback, 1959, p. 170 |
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Sunday August 3, 2008
"Credences of Summer," VII,
by Wallace Stevens, from
"Three times the concentred |
Lughnasa — An Irish harvest festival.
"It was usually celebrated on the nearest Sunday to August 1st." —Chalice Centre
Related material:
- Dancing at Lughnasa, a play by Brian Friel
- Natasha's Dance, an entry in this journal
- Dancing at Lughnasa, an entry in this journal from August 3, 2003
— Nanci Griffith
Friday, January 4, 2008
Friday January 4, 2008
The “greatest generation” theme from Art Wars– April 7, 2003 continues in two obituaries from this morning’s New York Times:
The first obituary says that Goldberg
“saw abstract painting… as ‘still the primary visual challenge of our time. It might get harder and harder to make an abstract image that’s believable, but I think that just makes the challenge greater.'” The Times says that Goldberg was a veteran of Merrill’s Marauders in World War II (as well as of the last century’s art wars).
The second obituary notes that Astor’s books include A Blood-Dimmed Tide (a phrase from Yeats)– an account of the Battle of the Bulge– and a biography of Dr. Josef Mengele.
Both men died on Sunday, December 30, 2007. From Log24 on that date, an abstract image and a cinematic portrait of Dr. Mengele:
Yesterday’s entry
The Revelation Game
and an entry of April 7, 2003:
April is Math Awareness Month.
This year’s theme is “mathematics and art.”
(The art, by Ingmar Bergman, was
in honor of the April 7 birthday of
Francis Ford Coppola, director of
“Apocalypse Now.”)
Friday, June 10, 2005
Friday June 10, 2005
April 21, 2005
‘For Christ and Liberty’
Though [it is] a purely Protestant institution (literally), I am rather fond of Patrick Henry College. Indeed, it takes some courage in this day and age to only admit students willing to sign a ten-point profession of Protestant Reformed faith. They also happen to have an old-fashioned ball featuring ‘English country dancing, delicacies such as cream puffs and truffles and leisurely strolls about the scenic grounds of the historic Selma Plantation’.
Anyhow, the college, whose motto is ‘For Christ and Liberty’, was visited [by] Anthony Esolen, a contributing editor to Touchstone magazine, who makes these comments:
That such a request came was no surprise. Its provenance is, and cheeringly so. For this De Tocqueville Society is made up of a group of students at the new Patrick Henry College, founded by Mike Farris, the President of the Home School Legal Defense Association. More than ninety percent of the college’s students were homeschooled. If there’s a Roman Catholic in the bunch, I’ve yet to hear about it, and I’ve been to that campus twice to give lectures. [Note: Esolen does not seem to be aware that PHC requires its students to be Protestant.]
More on that in a moment. I could spend all evening singing the praises of PHC (as the students fondly call it), but let me share one discovery I made that should gratify Touchstone readers. The first time I spoke there, two years ago, I was stunned to meet young men and women who—who were young men and women. I am not stretching the truth; go to Purcellville and see it for yourselves if you doubt it; I believe my wife took a couple of pictures, just to quiet the naysayers. The young men stand tall and look you in the eye—they don’t skulk, they don’t scowl and squirm uncomfortably in the back chairs as they listen to yet another analysis of Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, or one of the healthier poems of Sylvia Plath. They’re frank and generous and respectful, but they hold their own in an argument, and they are eager to engage you in those. They are comfortable in their skins; they wear their manhood easily. And the young ladies are beautiful. They don’t wither away in class, far from it; but they wear skirts, they are modest in their voices and their smiles, they clearly admire the young men and are esteemed in turn; they are like creatures from a faraway planet, one sweeter and saner than ours.
Two years ago I spoke to them about medieval Catholic drama. They are evangelicals, half of them majors in Government, the rest, majors in Liberal Arts. They kept me and my wife in that room for nearly three hours after the talk was over. “Doctor Esolen, what you say about the habits of everyday life—to what extent is it like what Jean Pierre de Coussade calls ‘the sacrament of the present moment’?” “Doctor Esolen, do you see any connections between the bodiliness of this drama and the theology of Aleksandr Schmemann?” “Doctor Esolen, you have spoken a great deal about our recovery of a sense of beauty, but don’t you think that artists can also use the grotesque as a means of bringing people to the truth?” “You’ve suggested to us that Christians need to reclaim the Renaissance as our heritage, yet we are told that that was an age of the worship of man for his own sake. To what extent is the art of that period ours to reclaim?” And on and on, until nearly midnight.
The questions were superior to any that I have ever heard from a gathering of professors—and alas, I’ve been to many of those. I mean not only superior in their enthusiasm and their insistence, but in their penetrating to the heart of the problem, their willingness to make connections apparently far afield but really quite apropos, and their sheer beauty—I can think of no better word for it.
A few weeks ago I was in town for another talk, on the resurrection of the body. The Holy Father had passed away. At supper, ten or fifteen of the students packed our table, to ask questions before the talk. They were reverent and extraordinarily well informed; most especially they were interested in the Theology of the Body. The questions on that topic continued after the lecture, and I had the same experience I’d had before, but now without the surprise.
And these are the young people who are devoting an entire issue of their journal to the thought of Cardinal Ratzinger, now the new head of the Roman Catholic Church. They are hungry to know about him; in the next week or two they will do what our slatternly tarts and knaves, I mean our journalists, have never done and will not trouble themselves to do, and that is to read what Benedict XVI has said, read it with due appreciation for their differences with him, and due deference to a holy and humble man called by Christ to be a light not only to Roman Catholics but to all the nations.
These students don’t know it, but in their devotion to their new school (they are themselves the guards, the groundskeepers, the janitors; they ‘own’ the school in a way that is hard to explain to outsiders), they live the community life extolled by Leo XIII in Rerum Novarum; in their steadfastness to the truth they are stalwart participators in the quest set out by John Paul II in Fides et Ratio; in their welcoming of me and, God bless them, of the good Benedict XVI, they live in the true spirit of Lumen Gentium, that greathearted document of the council so often invoked for the lame tolerance of every betrayal of the ancient faith. And for what it’s worth, they are readers of Touchstone Magazine.
Be silent, Greeleys and Dowds of the world. These young people have you whipped, if for no other reason than that they believe in the One who is Truth, and who sets us free. How can I praise these my young brothers and sisters any more highly? God bless them and Patrick Henry College. And the rest of us, let’s keep an eye on them. We’ll be seeing quite a harvest from that seedbed!
Many of the points Esolen commends are things I hope will be found in the colleges of my university when I get around to starting it. I particularly admire that Patrick Henry College’s young men and women are just that, according to Esolen. This is all too often hard to achieve in modern American higher education, where students are quite often just elderly adolescents. (Though I suspect this has more to do with parents and family than education).
The absurdist drinking age that the Federal government underhandedly coerced each state into passing hinders maturity as well. Indeed, when I start the first college or colleges of the university I’m planning, each will have a private college bar which will serve anyone over the age of 16 or so. (Probably at the barman or barmaid’s discretion). Civil disobedience is the only solution.
Though the graduates Patrick Henry College provides will be Protestant (at least at the time of their graduation), I have no doubt that they will act as leaven to raise up the social and political life of our United States. I’m not particularly fond that they proudly advertise their commendation as “One of America’s Top Ten Conservative Colleges”. I’m not of the view that colleges ought to be ‘conservative’ or ‘liberal’ per se. They ought to be seen more as communities of inquisitive, curious, intelligent people united in the quest for truth. Labels like ‘conservative’ and ‘liberal’ are far too narrow and allow the simple-minded to pidgeon-hole things which are too complex for such monikers.
But anyhow, cheers for Patrick Henry College.
Posted by Andrew Cusack at April 21, 2005 05:25 PM
Tuesday, May 13, 2003
Tuesday May 13, 2003
Operation Playmate:
On this date in 1938, Louis Armstrong and his orchestra recorded “When the Saints Go Marching In.”
On this date in 1961, Saint Gary Cooper died.
From my Jan. 2, 2003, entry:
Faces of the Twentieth Century:
The Harvest Continues
“I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens
to glean our Saviour;
And, éyes, héart, what looks, what lips
yet gave you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer,
of rounder replies?”
— Gerard Manley Hopkins,
“Hurrahing in Harvest”
“Cowboy, take me away.
Fly this girl as high as you can
into the wild blue.”
From my March 31, 2003, entry:
“During the Gulf War, Playboy magazine’s celebrated Centerfolds reached out to U.S. military men and women… with their ‘Operation Playmate’ project….
Now, in light of the war in Iraq, ‘Operation Playmate’ has returned.”
Entertainment Weekly, May 2, 2003:
Perhaps, in heaven, Dixie Chick Natalie “Mattress Dancing” Maines will provide terpsichorean instruction.
Etymology: Latin Terpsichor,
from Greek Terpsikhor,
from feminine of terpsikhoros,
dance-loving : terpein, to delight
+ khoros, dance.
See, too, my entry for Beltane (May 1), the day that death claimed the 13th Episcopal bishop of New York City.
All of these events are not without interest, but it is not easy to fit them into one coherent story, as Robert Penn Warren once requested:
“The name of the story will be Time,
But you must not pronounce its name.
Tell me a story of deep delight.”
It is perhaps relevant that, as T. S. Eliot well knew, there can be no dance except in time, and that the time of my May 1 entry is 5:13, today’s date in another guise. To paraphrase an Eliot line,
“Hurry up please, it’s 5/13.”
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
Wednesday April 16, 2003
Keeping Time
The title of this entry comes from T. S. Eliot (see below). The subject, and the relevance of the Kipling passage, are from Eleanor Cameron's Green and Burning Tree, itself the subject of an April 15 entry.
Part I
From Puck of Pook's Hill, by Rudyard Kipling
The Theatre lay in a meadow…. a large old Fairy Ring of darkened grass, which was the stage…. Shakespeare himself could not have imagined a more suitable setting for his play….
Their play went beautifully…. They were both so pleased that they acted it three times over from beginning to end before they sat down in the unthistly centre of the Ring to eat…, This was when they heard a whistle among the alders on the bank, and they jumped.
The bushes parted. In the very spot where Dan had stood as Puck they saw a small, brown, broad-shouldered, pointy-eared person….
He stopped, hollowed one hand round his ear, and, with a wicked twinkle in his eye, went on:
'What, a play toward? I'll be an auditor;
An actor, too, perhaps, if I see cause.'
The children looked and gasped. The small thing – he was no taller than Dan's shoulder – stepped quietly into the Ring.
"I'm rather out of practice," said he; "but that's the way my part ought to be played."
Still the children stared at him — from his dark blue cap, like a big columbine flower, to his bare, hairy feet. At last he laughed.
"Please don't look at me like that. It isn't my fault. What else could you expect?" he said.
"We didn't expect anyone," Dan answered slowly. "This is our field."
"Is it?" said their visitor, sitting down. "Then what on Human Earth made you act Midsummer Night's Dream three times over, on Midsummer Eve, in the middle of a Ring, and under — right under one of my oldest hills in Old England? Pook's Hill — Puck's Hill — Puck's Hill — Pook's Hill! It's as plain as the nose on my face."
"…. You've done something that Kings and Knights and Scholars in old days would have given their crowns and spurs and books to find out. If Merlin himself had helped you, you couldn't have managed better!"
Part II
From "East Coker," by T. S. Eliot
In that open field
If you do not come too close,
if you do not come too close,
On a summer midnight,
you can hear the music
Of the weak pipe and the little drum….
… Round and round the fire
Leaping through the flames,
or joined in circles….
… Keeping time,
Keeping the rhythm in their dancing….
Part III
From The Real World, by Anonymous:
Tonight is the night of the Paschal full moon, which is used to calculate the date of Easter.
On this date in 1871, playwright John Millington Synge was born. He wrote of "the wonderfully tender and searching light that is seen only in Kerry."
On this date in 1991, director David Lean died. He showed us the tender and searching light of Kerry in "Ryan's Daughter."
The summer harvest festival of County Kerry is known as "Puck Fair."
The song "The Kerry Dance" includes the following lyrics:
O the days of the Kerry dancing….
When the boys began to gather,
in the glen of a summer's night.
And the Kerry piper's tuning
made us long with wild delight.
Tonight's site music is "The Kerry Dance" arranged in a form appropriate to the spirit of "East Coker" and the spirit of Puck Fair.
Eliot and Eleanor Cameron were both concerned with "keeping time" in a very deep sense. For more on this subject, see my previous entries for April 2003, Poetry Month.
See, too, Midsummer Eve's Dream.
Thursday, January 2, 2003
Thursday January 2, 2003
Faces of the Twentieth Century:
The Harvest Continues
“I walk, I lift up, I lift up heart, eyes,
Down all that glory in the heavens to glean our Saviour;
And, éyes, héart, what looks, what lips yet gave you a
Rapturous love’s greeting of realer, of rounder replies?”
— Gerard Manley Hopkins, “Hurrahing in Harvest”
“Cowboy, take me away.
Fly this girl as high as you can
into the wild blue.”
See
“Culture Clash at Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil“
in my notes of December 11, 2002.