Bars Poetica

This is the story I’ve tried to tell. Guy
exists. Father mother sister brother.
Oh pretty stars, oh bastard moon
I see you watching me. The trembling
years leading to sex, the trembling sex.
Death as garnish. Death as male lead,
female lead, death as a cast
of thousands. God in, on, as, with,
to, around, because who knows
because. All the while feeling air’s
a quilt of tongues, that spaces
between words are more articulate
than words. It’ not like you’d hope,
that anyone can make sense.
Look around you, let your ears
breathe deep — almost no one does.
Have another drink. When they throw us out
there’ a place down the street
that never closes, after that
we’ll climb a fire escape and praise
the genealogy of light. The Big Bang
sounds like what it was, the f***ing
that got everything under way.
That love was there from the start
is all I’ve been trying to say.

I think the first time I had any sense of this reality was when I saw “Saving Private Ryan”, which begins with an incredibly graphic portrayal of the Normandy Invasion. “A Band of Brothers” is no less intense at times, but being a mini-series it draws you in more deeply by giving you more time to connect with the various characters. The last disc of this series has a documentary that interviews the surviving members of Easy Company, as well as their family members. One young lady expressed a similar detachment from the reality that her father faced, realizing through her own viewing of the series just how brutal the circumstances were that her father faced.

When my father passed away last February I was given the opportunity to reflect upon his life while writing his eulogy. In doing this I realized that in sharp contrast to myself, my Dad was not a complainer. I never once heard him complain about anything in his life. Rather his attitude was that you just gotta do the thing that is placed before you. In watching “A Band of Brothers” that is exactly the attitude that I got from these men. They faced bitter cold without adequate clothing or shelter, an enemy that often outnumbered them, multiple injuries, the daily possibility of death, and the daily loss of friends. In spite of this, however, these men didn’t consider themselves heroes, and they didn’t complain about their circumstances. They just did what was placed before them.

In contrast to that, one of the things that particularly haunts me is how easy it is for me to complain even while living in comfortable circumstances, and perhaps because of it. I am also haunted by the fact that I have never been called or ever really had to lay down my life for a cause greater than myself. As a result I feel somehow impoverished. In saying this I am not necessarily saying that I wished I had joined the military and faced enemies in combat, as I do not think that this is the only way to live sacrificially for others. Rather, I am confessing my complicity in the materialistic, and self-indulgent ideals that are currently pervasive in my culture, ideals that weaken my capacity to appreciate and show gratitude for the abundance that I have been given. Also I am expressing a longing for nobility, a nobility that I think the men of my Dad’s generation had a chance to develop and demonstrate and that I myself have yet to find.

I am enjoying translating poetry as it pushes me to connect more deeply with what I am reading, and it sparks my imagination for possibilities that I might pursue in my own writing. I can imagine that translation will be a regular part of my life, perhaps as a creative discipline to sharpen my own skills and expand my creative repertoire. Whatever the future may hold for me and translation, in the present I hope you enjoy this poem.

You enter the dark room
as on a bed of dreams

all say the name of the impalpable
all look and weigh
the unseen

In this scene Lorelai (the Mother) is allowing her friend Sookie to borrow her dog, Paul Anka, so that Sookie and her husband can find out if they are dog people. When it comes time for the dog to leave Lorelai hides the leash as she approaches the dog and covertly attaches it to the dog’s collar. Sookie noticing this asks Lorelai about how the dog will respond once he realizes he is on the leash. To this Lorelai responds, “He’ll be fine. Like any good American, he’s alright with having his freedoms slowly usurped.”

The second comes from a radio show called “The Bob and Tom Show” which regularly has guest comedians. One visiting comedian had this to say about home video games.

Microsoft, with the release of its latest version of the XBox has edged out its leading competitor,.. a productive life.

God have mercy!!!

What all this implies is that we must be constantly open to how others are representing the Truth, not in a pluralistic free-for-all where all representations are considered equally valid, but rather in the awareness that there exists a variety of acceptable possibilities. To use an analogy, the medium of the mind is not light and reflected glass, but rather paint and an incredibly diverse palette. When you bring together multiple paintings on one subject, you have multiple interpretations, not fragments of a mirror. Thus the paintings give multiple options in approaching the same subject, but they can never work together to construct a mirror. In saying this I realize that some might object that my epistemology is to relativistic, but I want to point out that the interpretive element of representation does not undermine a genuine connection between the mind and Truth or Reality. In being open to others we must be critical to see if their representation, as differently interpreted as it may be, is within the proper boundary of the subject we seek to represent. Just as there are a variety of possibilities for interpreting the same reality, so it is possible that a person is interpreting a different reality. Discerning the difference is not easy as the boundaries are not always clear, but this does not mean they don’t exist. In the end, the pursuit of Truth requires humility, patience and a lot of hard work, but if we pursue it just think about the incredible gallery we would have.

Before the law sits a gatekeeper. To this gatekeeper comes a man from the country who asks to gain entry into the law. But the gatekeeper says that he cannot grant him entry at the moment. The man thinks about it and then asks if he will be allowed to come in later on. “It is possible,” says the gatekeeper, “but not now.” At the moment the gate to the law stands open, as always, and the gatekeeper walks to the side, so the man bends over in order to see through the gate into the inside. When the gatekeeper notices that, he laughs and says: “If it tempts you so much, try it in spite of my prohibition. But take note: I am powerful. And I am only the most lowly gatekeeper. But from room to room stand gatekeepers, each more powerful than the other. I can’t endure even one glimpse of the third.” The man from the country has not expected such difficulties: the law should always be accessible for everyone, he thinks, but as he now looks more closely at the gatekeeper in his fur coat, at his large pointed nose and his long, thin, black Tartar’ beard, he decides that it would be better to wait until he gets permission to go inside. The gatekeeper gives him a stool and allows him to sit down at the side in front of the gate. There he sits for days and years. He makes many attempts to be let in, and he wears the gatekeeper out with his requests. The gatekeeper often interrogates him briefly, questioning him about his homeland and many other things, but they are indifferent questions, the kind great men put, and at the end he always tells him once more that he cannot let him inside yet. The man, who has equipped himself with many things for his journey, spends everything, no matter how valuable, to win over the gatekeeper. The latter takes it all but, as he does so, says, “I am taking this only so that you do not think you have failed to do anything.” During the many years the man observes the gatekeeper almost continuously. He forgets the other gatekeepers, and this one seems to him the only obstacle for entry into the law. He curses the unlucky circumstance, in the first years thoughtlessly and out loud, later, as he grows old, he still mumbles to himself. He becomes childish and, since in the long years studying the gatekeeper he has come to know the fleas in his fur collar, he even asks the fleas to help him persuade the gatekeeper. Finally his eyesight grows weak, and he does not know whether things are really darker around him or whether his eyes are merely deceiving him. But he recognizes now in the darkness an illumination which breaks inextinguishably out of the gateway to the law. Now he no longer has much time to live. Before his death he gathers in his head all his experiences of the entire time up into one question which he has not yet put to the gatekeeper. He waves to him, since he can no longer lift up his stiffening body. The gatekeeper has to bend way down to him, for the great difference has changed things to the disadvantage of the man. “What do you still want to know, then?” asks the gatekeeper. “You are insatiable.” “Everyone strives after the law,” says the man, “so how is that in these many years no one except me has requested entry?” The gatekeeper sees that the man is already dying and, in order to reach his diminishing sense of hearing, he shouts at him, “Here no one else can gain entry, since this entrance was assigned only to you. I’m going now to close it.”

This translation was prepared by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University

Bush’s impatience with FISA as well as his impatience in general has a haunting quality about it, for history has shown that dictators are impatient with political restraints, and that they are enabled to arrest power by exploiting the fears and impatience of fellow citizens. By pushing to obtain more power Bush is demonstrating an inability to see himself in the mirror of history, he is failing to reflect upon his current course of action in light of history’ stern lessons. Moreover, all of us Americans will be complicit in his actions for our failure to voice our concerns about the freedoms we are losing. Honestly, I think that we are insensitive to the meaning of what’s happening before our eyes. In part I think this insensitivity comes from the nature of political rights which are largely abstract and intangible. Thus it is hard to have an immediate sense of loss when they are diminished or taken away. Also, many of us live our lives within boundaries where we don’t readily see how such rights protect us, and so when our rights are diminished we are able to live without feeling the effect of such losses. To come at this from another angle, if the executive branch was to issue an order that the American people could no longer shop at Walmart, and had to shop at Target, or if we were told that we could no longer drink Pepsi and had to drink Coca-Cola, then we might see an uprising and response that would be appropriate to the circumstances we are currently facing. We Americans would be more sensitive to this kind of restriction because our lives are more oriented upon consumerism than upon citizenship. If this is not the case, then why is dissent not more common among the American public?

In saying all of this, I want to be careful not to create a caricature of Bush. As is common to human existence, I imagine that he is subject to complex forces and motivations, at least some of which I believe to be good. Honestly, I don’t think Bush is conniving to become a dictator. I do think, however, there is something askew in his thinking. If I was to take a shot in the dark, I would say that he lacks the kind of humility that is appropriate to people in his position of power, a kind of humility that would give him more patience, and prompt him to think more deeply about nuances and complexities, as well as the ambiguous nature of justice and righteousness in a fallen world. Of course all of this is related to Bush’ worldview, which as a Christian is related to his theology, which is something that begs for a critical analysis. I will save that, however, for “Bush Part II”.