I love this quotation by Margaret Atwood. I always felt that serious writers of prose and poetry are grappling with the limitations of language and that’s a big part of the value of serious, non-utilitarian writing. Our relationship to human language(s) is so firmly engrained in the human experience. It’s quite a high calling to go up against those limitations. It requires awareness, bravery, and stamina.
Exactly. It’s the search for a type of perfection within a system that is … imperfect. Language. That’s the wonderfulness of it all: working with the inherent limitations of language in order to somehow transcend them. I think of Martha Graham’s concept of “divine dissatisfaction.” Always reaching for the divine …
That Anne Carson quote is killer good and useful. What humans do to be at peace with the inevitability of death is what defines character. I'm probably going to steal it soon for one of my own pieces since I've been reading Ernest Becker's Denial of Death and thinking about Kierkegaardian questions like what we do once we come to terms with our own helplessness and aloneness in the universe.
What a great definition of character. Yeah, I love Anne Carson. I've been reading a lot of Christian Wiman, who you might like as well for these matters. He's had terminal cancer for 20 or so years, and he was only supposed to live a year or two longer, so he's been living on the precipice of death for a long time--and not denying it. I didn't know about Ernest Becker's Denial of Death, so I'll put it on my list.
I can really resonate with writing to try and find God. Writing as a space to be in to attempt to go into, poke around, examine, explore, and if I’m lucky, find some clarity and maybe even an answer to a question or a contemplation I didn’t even realize I’d had language for yet. I loved the quotes in this piece, Grant and the new perspective and fondness that just came up for me with the doo dads, as both an origin word and the things in the junk drawer. Thank you for this!
Thanks so much, Lisa! I'm glad the piece resonated. And I hope you reach into your own doo-dad drawer of exploration. Maybe we make a type of God in our pursuit of stories ...
Excellent to hear you, as always. I'm especially impressed that you've come out as a "frotteur of words." Have you ever been arrested for that? [smiley-face-with-tongue-out-emoji]
Reading this piece and the comments feeds right into a poem I recently posted titled Eternal Love. I got a comment on it saying they didn't get it, that the content didn't match what they thought the title suggested. They most likely expected it to be about physical human love. I explained that it was about searching for something higher, stronger than what we as humans experience as love; something everlasting, eternal. That can be defined as god or creator or whatever you call your higher power. So, yes, I do agree that that is why most of us write. It's all about the search for something...something greater than ourselves, greater than our limiting language. Makes me ponder the idea of the Muse. It seems that may be touching a piece of that eternal we are searching for. It is for me, anyway. The search continues.
A true grab bag of new words, and the situational emotions behind them, is The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows" by John Koenig. A story catalyst if there ever was one.
Grant, I love this mostly because it brought memories of my dad this morning. He always had doo-dads and gadgets in his garage. Although it looked disorganized at times, he could find anything he needed to fix something. Now, I tend to save a few doo-dads in my own garage and my grandkids love going through them. As far as finding God there, absolutely. He’s in all things, big and small. It’s why I call this collection of stuff my treasure box. And I suppose it could also be my memory box. Inspiration for writing!
I love this quotation by Margaret Atwood. I always felt that serious writers of prose and poetry are grappling with the limitations of language and that’s a big part of the value of serious, non-utilitarian writing. Our relationship to human language(s) is so firmly engrained in the human experience. It’s quite a high calling to go up against those limitations. It requires awareness, bravery, and stamina.
Exactly. It’s the search for a type of perfection within a system that is … imperfect. Language. That’s the wonderfulness of it all: working with the inherent limitations of language in order to somehow transcend them. I think of Martha Graham’s concept of “divine dissatisfaction.” Always reaching for the divine …
That Anne Carson quote is killer good and useful. What humans do to be at peace with the inevitability of death is what defines character. I'm probably going to steal it soon for one of my own pieces since I've been reading Ernest Becker's Denial of Death and thinking about Kierkegaardian questions like what we do once we come to terms with our own helplessness and aloneness in the universe.
What a great definition of character. Yeah, I love Anne Carson. I've been reading a lot of Christian Wiman, who you might like as well for these matters. He's had terminal cancer for 20 or so years, and he was only supposed to live a year or two longer, so he's been living on the precipice of death for a long time--and not denying it. I didn't know about Ernest Becker's Denial of Death, so I'll put it on my list.
Frank O' Hara would have used "doo dad" in a poem.
You're right!
I can really resonate with writing to try and find God. Writing as a space to be in to attempt to go into, poke around, examine, explore, and if I’m lucky, find some clarity and maybe even an answer to a question or a contemplation I didn’t even realize I’d had language for yet. I loved the quotes in this piece, Grant and the new perspective and fondness that just came up for me with the doo dads, as both an origin word and the things in the junk drawer. Thank you for this!
Thanks so much, Lisa! I'm glad the piece resonated. And I hope you reach into your own doo-dad drawer of exploration. Maybe we make a type of God in our pursuit of stories ...
Excellent to hear you, as always. I'm especially impressed that you've come out as a "frotteur of words." Have you ever been arrested for that? [smiley-face-with-tongue-out-emoji]
Haha, yeah, just a frotteur with words ...
thank you for this
lovely read way to wake along with the morning
and now my favorite pen waits to become a frotteur
thank you
Reading this piece and the comments feeds right into a poem I recently posted titled Eternal Love. I got a comment on it saying they didn't get it, that the content didn't match what they thought the title suggested. They most likely expected it to be about physical human love. I explained that it was about searching for something higher, stronger than what we as humans experience as love; something everlasting, eternal. That can be defined as god or creator or whatever you call your higher power. So, yes, I do agree that that is why most of us write. It's all about the search for something...something greater than ourselves, greater than our limiting language. Makes me ponder the idea of the Muse. It seems that may be touching a piece of that eternal we are searching for. It is for me, anyway. The search continues.
Well put. And, yes, the search continues ... You might even say that's where the answer resides. It feels like eternal love.
A true grab bag of new words, and the situational emotions behind them, is The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows" by John Koenig. A story catalyst if there ever was one.
Thanks, John! Yes, it's by John Koenig. And I agree. I read a word or two every morning as a creative ignition. It gets the poetic rumblings rumbling.
Thank you
“I reside in that emptiness that mystery and try to give voice to it…
Yes and to find meanings
Thank you
Thanks so much for your comment, Prajna! I'm glad the piece resonated. Here's to filling that emptiness with our stories ...
Grant, I love this mostly because it brought memories of my dad this morning. He always had doo-dads and gadgets in his garage. Although it looked disorganized at times, he could find anything he needed to fix something. Now, I tend to save a few doo-dads in my own garage and my grandkids love going through them. As far as finding God there, absolutely. He’s in all things, big and small. It’s why I call this collection of stuff my treasure box. And I suppose it could also be my memory box. Inspiration for writing!