54. Poetry to help face the unthinkable

When "things fall apart," there is still room for beauty and mindfulness.

It’s been hard to write this past month, as the world witnesses another war. The stuff of horror movies and apocalyptic shows like Black Mirror is infiltrating reality, at a quickening pace. This is dividing the Western culture around me on highly politicized, contentious grounds. Perhaps you also feel the heaviness in the air, born of sadness and powerlessness to help.

I think this post by Katie Marquette articulates one possible takeaway better than I could. Namely, that bearing witness on a human level, and processing our ensuing emotions, is more meaningful than rushing to share a “hot take”:

“If you’re only scrolling Stories or the Times or getting ready to post, you’re missing the chance to weep, to mourn, to hope, to be a human being.

And to assert one’s love and grief and hope in times of great inhumanity is perhaps the greatest rebellion, the only rebellion, we can offer against such awful hate.”

With that in mind, I think the best thing I can do with Spirit is to continue my mission to honour the beauty in art. When the world seems ugly beyond recognition, beauty is still there, arguably even more poignant and important to find in times of unrest.

This post is a second experiment in presenting two pieces back to back, without the interpretation section. (here is the first such post!) I hope you can enjoy puzzling out shared themes, or perhaps ways in which each one builds upon the other.

suggested reading method

To best savour this artwork, please take a moment to eliminate distractions. Consider minimizing all other windows on your computer; putting other devices (phone, tv etc) aside; taking a deep breath, to the full extent of your lung capacity; and focusing solely on the “artwork 1” and “artwork 2” sections.
Once you’ve processed those to your satisfaction, the rest of the post is optional reading, provided only for context about the artists.

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artwork 1

The Second Coming

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

by W.B. Yeats, 1919.

artwork 2

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

by Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks.

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context

W.B. Yeats (1865 - 1939) was an Irish poet whose melancholy and mystical works contributed to the Irish literary revival. Yeats founded the Abbey Theatre in Dublin, and was awarded the 1923 Nobel Prize in Literature. Here is a fun article on how “The Second Coming” has influenced generations of pop culture.

Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad Rūmī (1207 - 1273) was a Sufi mystic, scholar, and poet in multiple languages including Persian. Rumi’s poetry and prose often focus on spirituality and everlasting love, using poetry and other forms of art as a path for reaching the divine.

A photo of Yeats, and a portrait of Rumi by Hossein Behzad.

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What similarities and differences did you notice? Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments!