Well, whaddya know? I'd say, off the top of the old crop, a helluva lot more than most anybody I know, experientially, intuitively, and intellectually, a point worth making in this contextuity. IMO, the cedilla might be worth adding so your quotation reads, "Que sçais-je?"
Look at that! This is a lovely opening salvo, Frank. I feel like a mom, kinda (which is insane; but, you do us proud-like, right?). Next? I'll want your autograph :) . . .
Oh, by the way, you have beautiful handwriting which, interestingly, reminds me of my adopted mother's (who, as you know, got bit by Alzheimer's and departed 16 February 2004; and, I am convinced she waited till she'd scarfed down as much chocolate as she could :)).
Do you consider it to be "settling," really? You write, "They’ll settle for one in place of understanding."
Question? Are you saying this response requires no further reflection; or, conversely, suggesting further examination's essential; (or, simply leaving the future, leaving it open, ambidextrocriously)?
I'd call it acceptling . . .
See, I am thinking of that quote you ID'ed and am gonna go look for it . . . Because? I think it applies here . . . BRB . . .
"And, you can be as tough as you like for the world; but, you cannot fool the heart which has its own methods and meanings and manages to raise us up and dash us down on cue (for reasons we can only guess and try to express through prayer or poetry, makes no difference to me)."
As you know, to take your notion of essayer in a parallel direction, Eliot said in FQ's "East Coker":
"For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business."
Truth is, trying can be trying; but, it certainly says something about fighting against the inevitable pall of cynicism descending upon each of us who believes s/he's awake enough to bother.
For us, the rest truly ain't our business, not until it's listed on the NYSE or TSE; then, we'll talk turkeys :). "Poetry is not business as usual." Rest? Who has time? (Oh, sowwy, natural punishment, my signature flourish :)).
But, Standing Oh, My! What a soul-searching guy; s'pose I can only hope you consider a quote from Boethius or St. Thomas A. or Rousseau or Emily or Chandler or St. Augustine or . . . Pebbles :).
Actually, Judith, what you have done is what I hope all the readers of the column will do - let the quotes start a chain of thought in their own minds. And yes, I mean that people will for an explanation in place of understanding, especially if understanding leads to the conclusion that there is no explanation at present. Mystery makes many people uncomfortable.
S'true, though: Mystery confounds, frightens, distresses, and, abso-obvo, by extension, puts peeps on the off-fensive and defensive simultaneously. We know all about The Shit Delusion; so, I won't mention any names nor even name any titles. There's an art to granting a mystery its right to exist along science's complementary affirmation that faith cannot be codified nor identified under a microscope.
IMO, the individual who cannot accept the profoud futility inherent in the act of pondering the imponderable at the heart of any mystery (which requires no explanation) forsakes such richness and opportunity for revelry in the transcendental ineffability or unsayability abdicates an essential obligation to both the self and the ego (let alone the heart, soul, mind, and spirit).
The idea of riffing on a quote within predetermined parameters defined for / by you a priori intrigues me; how did come to the conclusion, for example, you'd commence with the one you did? Throw a d'art? Kindle the ol' Eureka! spark?
Getting back on track (or, returning to the one you mention following in your post):
It does slay me when a person cannot simply accept even simple mysteries when, truly, boundless ones thrive before our eyes (if only we "perceive" before "seeing" them, each and every all of us moment-by-momentality).
How in the hell do they remain sane without knowing why this planet came into being at all, let alone the fact approximately 6.7 billion utterly unique individuals populate it? How do they live with the way there's a beyond the beyond, a post-space space, so to seek, IOW? All these ordinary mysteries, these miraculous taken-for-granted vysteries given us, in fact, must drive 'em to the brink (or drink).
Oh, BTW, I'm *so* glad you asked; my "emergency" came to an abruptious conclusion much more quickly than I had anticipated it would; the dame fell off the wagon; and, you and I both know the futility of attempting to inflate that vehicle's tires; thus? Howdy, M'Dear Inq.uisitival Hon/s :). -- Stay tuned . . . Haiku details coming soon to a browser near you!
Frank,
ReplyDeleteInteresting column. I look forward to reading the column each week.
Paul Davis
daviswrite@aol.com
I'll be a regular reader too, though this time I've offered yet another explanation of your experience!
ReplyDeleteWell, whaddya know? I'd say, off the top of the old crop, a helluva lot more than most anybody I know, experientially, intuitively, and intellectually, a point worth making in this contextuity. IMO, the cedilla might be worth adding so your quotation reads, "Que sçais-je?"
ReplyDeleteLook at that! This is a lovely opening salvo, Frank. I feel like a mom, kinda (which is insane; but, you do us proud-like, right?). Next? I'll want your autograph :) . . .
Oh, by the way, you have beautiful handwriting which, interestingly, reminds me of my adopted mother's (who, as you know, got bit by Alzheimer's and departed 16 February 2004; and, I am convinced she waited till she'd scarfed down as much chocolate as she could :)).
Do you consider it to be "settling," really? You write, "They’ll settle for one in place of understanding."
Question? Are you saying this response requires no further reflection; or, conversely, suggesting further examination's essential; (or, simply leaving the future, leaving it open, ambidextrocriously)?
I'd call it acceptling . . .
See, I am thinking of that quote you ID'ed and am gonna go look for it . . . Because? I think it applies here . . . BRB . . .
"And, you can be as tough as you like for the world; but, you cannot fool the heart which has its own methods and meanings and manages to raise us up and dash us down on cue (for reasons we can only guess and try to express through prayer or poetry, makes no difference to me)."
As you know, to take your notion of essayer in a parallel direction, Eliot said in FQ's "East Coker":
"For us there is only the trying. The rest is not our business."
Truth is, trying can be trying; but, it certainly says something about fighting against the inevitable pall of cynicism descending upon each of us who believes s/he's awake enough to bother.
For us, the rest truly ain't our business, not until it's listed on the NYSE or TSE; then, we'll talk turkeys :). "Poetry is not business as usual." Rest? Who has time? (Oh, sowwy, natural punishment, my signature flourish :)).
But, Standing Oh, My! What a soul-searching guy; s'pose I can only hope you consider a quote from Boethius or St. Thomas A. or Rousseau or Emily or Chandler or St. Augustine or . . . Pebbles :).
"When I wanna rattle, you'll know it right away."
Actually, Judith, what you have done is what I hope all the readers of the column will do - let the quotes start a chain of thought in their own minds. And yes, I mean that people will for an explanation in place of understanding, especially if understanding leads to the conclusion that there is no explanation at present. Mystery makes many people uncomfortable.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Friend Franksical . . .
ReplyDeleteS'true, though: Mystery confounds, frightens, distresses, and, abso-obvo, by extension, puts peeps on the off-fensive and defensive simultaneously. We know all about The Shit Delusion; so, I won't mention any names nor even name any titles. There's an art to granting a mystery its right to exist along science's complementary affirmation that faith cannot be codified nor identified under a microscope.
IMO, the individual who cannot accept the profoud futility inherent in the act of pondering the imponderable at the heart of any mystery (which requires no explanation) forsakes such richness and opportunity for revelry in the transcendental ineffability or unsayability abdicates an essential obligation to both the self and the ego (let alone the heart, soul, mind, and spirit).
The idea of riffing on a quote within predetermined parameters defined for / by you a priori intrigues me; how did come to the conclusion, for example, you'd commence with the one you did? Throw a d'art? Kindle the ol' Eureka! spark?
Getting back on track (or, returning to the one you mention following in your post):
It does slay me when a person cannot simply accept even simple mysteries when, truly, boundless ones thrive before our eyes (if only we "perceive" before "seeing" them, each and every all of us moment-by-momentality).
How in the hell do they remain sane without knowing why this planet came into being at all, let alone the fact approximately 6.7 billion utterly unique individuals populate it? How do they live with the way there's a beyond the beyond, a post-space space, so to seek, IOW? All these ordinary mysteries, these miraculous taken-for-granted vysteries given us, in fact, must drive 'em to the brink (or drink).
Oh, BTW, I'm *so* glad you asked; my "emergency" came to an abruptious conclusion much more quickly than I had anticipated it would; the dame fell off the wagon; and, you and I both know the futility of attempting to inflate that vehicle's tires; thus? Howdy, M'Dear Inq.uisitival Hon/s :).
--
Stay tuned . . . Haiku details coming soon to a browser near you!