Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy

Looking Back!


Nine Ways to Cross a River by Akiko Busch.  

"In ancient
China, serpentine streams were sometimes constructed for the play of literary games.  Scholars and poets would gather, positioning themselves at appointed bends in the stream.  The host would then name the subject of a poem, then float a cup of wine down the stream to the first guest, who would compose the first line of the poem, sip the wine, then send both down the stream to the next guest.  As the cup floated from bend to bend and guest to guest, so too was the poem completed. 


Life is movement. The more life there is, the more flexibility there is. The more fluid you are, the more you are alive.
- Arnaud Desjardins



Floating, floating, what am I like?
    Between earth and sky, a gull alone.

             - Tu Fu



Ralph Waldo Emerson:

    "Geoffrey draws on his boots to go through the woods, that his feet might be safer from the bite of snakes; Aaron never thinks of such a peril.  In many years neither is harmed by such an accident.  Yet it seems to me, that, with every precaution you take against such an evil, you put yourself into the power of this evil."

Andy Rooney from Out of My Mind. 

Something I read in college keeps coming back to me and I can't remember the source.  It was that ancient
Greece and Rome didn't go into decline because there was anything wrong with the principles on which their civilizations were based.  They went into decline because the people who believed in the principles became a minority and they were overrun by people who didn't understand those principles at all. There must have been some Greek and Roman George Bushes.



Barry Lopez:  an excerpt from his essay Cold Scapes. 

    Over several decades of travel, I have often met people who were profoundly intimate with the places in which they lived.  Usually they were hunters, hunter-gatherers, subsistence farmers, or pastoralists, people who had to know precisely where they were, physically, all the particulars of it, if they were going to keep their preferred way of life intact.  In conversation, I found the fine points they were attuned to fascinating, but more so the pattern of their knowledge, their skill at arranging myriad details in a pattern that could be recognized, remembered, and put to use.  It is exhilarating to encounter knowledge this intimate.  Most of us in the modern world have nothing to compare with it, except a working knowledge of the infrastructure of our own highly technical civilization.  To see and appreciate, to be immersed for a lifetime in patterns that are not of your own making, that is a different order of things. 

    My guess would be that somebody someday will trace the roots of modern human loneliness to a loss of intimacy with place, to our many breaks with the physical Earth.  We are not out there much anymore.  Even when we are, we are often too quick to take things in.  A member of the group who insists on lingering is "holding everyone else up." I think about this kind of detachment from the physical world frequently, because human beings, generally, seem to long for a specific place, a certain geography that gives them a sense of well-being.

    When I was traveling regularly in the Arctic, I routinely asked Yupik, Inupiat, and Inuit how they characterized people from the civilization of which I was a part.  "Lonely" was a response I heard with discomfiting frequency.  The cure for loneliness, I have come to understand, is not more socializing.  It's achieving and maintaining close friendships.  The trust that characterizes that kind of friendship allows one to be vulnerable, to discuss problems that resist a solution, for example, without having to risk being judged or dismissed.  I bring this up because the desire I experience most keenly, when I travel in landscapes like the ones made so evocative here, is for intimacy.  I have learned that I will not experience the exhilaration intimacy brings unless I become vulnerable to that place, unless I come to a landscape without judgments, unless I trust that the place is indifferent to me.  The practice I strive for when I travel is to meet the land as if it were a person.  To encounter it as if it were as deep in its meaning as a human personality.  I wait for it to speak.  And wait.  And wait.

    - Barry Lopez



  • Return -

    I haven't been here in awhile and I return today to learn there is a "new post editor". I start to try it and then go back to the old. I am…

  • It's Morning!

    I've been here at Live Journal since October, 2005. I started it to keep in touch with family and friends as I went through cancer treatment.…

  • The sun is shining!

    Where I live the sun is shining and the buds have popped out so the plum trees are waving white. We've had months of rain, record breaking rain and…

  • Post a new comment


    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.