Showing posts with label Chris Smither. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chris Smither. Show all posts

Monday, April 16, 2012

Poets

Pondering on my previous pondering.

Physical stuff is somewhat easy to talk about. We have lots of words for the physical, most nouns are devoted to things we can see, touch, taste, hear, smell; things we know exist because we can sense them. If we have a common language and common vocabulary, we can pretty much understand what the other means by "tree", "heart" (the physical organ), "brain".

Thoughts, ideas, mental stuff -- that is much harder. We need more words and more back and forth and more discussion to come to some less than perfect understanding. As well as the common language and common vocabulary, we also need common cultural references. With some negotiation, we can (sometimes / usually / often) come to understand what the other means by "heart" (the center of personality? or the center of emotion? or the basis of sympathy?) or "mind" (consciousness? intellect? totality of mental processes?)

I despair of fully describing for you, or fully understanding your descriptions of, the spiritual or emotional. Even with common language and vocabulary and cultural references, I find it difficult to convey or understand "love", "passion". For that I need to borrow a poet's words.

Passion is feeling in motion
Compassion is standing still
...
Hearing is letting it happen
But to listen's a work of will

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So, how to talk about the spark, the connection, that transforms a moment of physical interaction into a moment of intimacy?

I know what I mean by that "connection". I think.

I don't know how to explain it to you or if I fully grasp what you mean by it.

It would be so much easier if we had been designed a bit better -- with an actual spark arcing  between lovers hearts or fingertips. But only when there was a Real Connection of course. Wouldn't want sparks flying all helter skelter around the room indiscriminately, would we?


My Chickens' First Night

 Sunset  was at 8:11 pm so I went out to the pen a little after 8. The three chickens were milling around, scratching and peeping and seemin...