Learning to love poetry

John Updike died yesterday and I, like many of his fans, are thinking back to some favorite nodes of his work.  I haven’t read much Updike, actually.  And I am not the most dedicated appreciator of poetry.  But the first time I read this poem I started to get why poetry is so movingly powerful.  Enjoy.

Sunflower, of flowers
the most lonely,
yardstick of hours,
long-term stander
in empty spaces,
shunner of bowers,
indolent bender
seldom, in only
the sharpest of showers:
tell us, why
is it your face is
a snarl of jet swirls
and gold arrows, a burning
old lion face high
in a cornflower sky,
yet by turning
your head, we find
you wear a girl’s
bonnet behind?

free as in music

Free music is mostly a misnomer these days, relegated to summer concerts and the odd open-mike night at the local coffee shop.  But to some bands, free is an opportunity.

Jim’s Big Ego, the tongue-in-cheek, clever, insightful brainchild of Jim Infantino, just released online its fifth album, free*.  Free* will be available in physical form in a few weeks, but for now you can download the full album for any range of money.  The more you spend, the higher quality download you get.

Jim is a Bostonian and (I hope he won’t mind me outing him) a meditator.  He was my next-cushion neighbor on retreat this summer.  I had a sneak preview of some of these songs, as Jim pulled out a borrowed guitar a few evenings after everything else was finished.

<Pause for an interlude about the music on this retreat> The picture below is of Jim composing some napkin poetry during one of the retreat celebrations.  He is accompanied by some of the most talented musicians I know.  Eli Gordon, on flute, jumped in and improvised on just about anything the others played.  Alex Van Gils writes songs, plays guitar and piano (and probably other instruments), in multiple genres.  Impromptu music sessions also enjoyed the participation of many others, on piano, guitar, drums, singing, dancing, etc.</pause>

Jim professes that he doesn’t write love songs.  Perhaps not in the standard sense, but this album is full of lines that poke at the most universal parts of our modern human experience.  He caricatures our most common neuroses, and so betrays the necessity of love.  Check it out, and go see him if you can!

“The Summit”, a poem about seeing

This poem is was written in prose, and is actually part of a much longer piece. These lines hang near my desk at home, though. They were recited to me on the John Muir Trail, by a grandfatherly pastor whose worldview was not mine but his manner was an inspiration. It was written by Rene Daumel.

You cannot stay on the summit forever, so why bother to climb in the first place? Just this: What is above, knows what is below. But what is below does not know what is above.

One climbs, one sees. One descends, one sees no longer.

But one has seen. There is an art of conducting one’s self in the Lower regions by the memory of what one has seen higher up. And when one can no longer see, one can at least know.

Of course, those of us who love the mountains know that there is something special about standing on the top of something. But I don’t think that’s really what he’s talking about. He’s talking about the unique challenge of attaining, and retaining, wisdom — from those fleeting moments of clarity that show the world as what it is. That’s what looking from above feels like, wherever it’s found.

This picture is from the top of Glen Pass on the JMT, looking north.