Tintern Abbey

FIVE years have past; five summers, with the length
Of five long winters! and again I hear
These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs
With a soft inland murmur.--Once again
Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,
That on a wild secluded scene impress
Thoughts of more deep seclusion; and connect
The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
The day is come when I again repose
Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 10
These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,
Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,
Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves
'Mid groves and copses. Once again I see
These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines
Of sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,
Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke
Sent up, in silence, from among the trees!
With some uncertain notice, as might seem
Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, 20
Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire
The Hermit sits alone.

These are only the first few lines from Tintern Abbey, but the entire poem rests upon the idea of revisiting something, whether physically revisiting a place from the past or coming back to it in memory. Wordsworth describes the scenery of the place he knows so well and how each entity that makes up the scenery has some sort of effect on him. His senses seem to be overwhelmed with the place he has come back to.

So many things can happen when revisiting a place in memory. Wordsworth talks about the realization that human beings move on from what they once were into the person they have become, and it continues to happen that way throughout life. With every passing moment the present moves into the past and the future moves into the present. It's a cyclical process that is hard to even process because it takes place so rapidly; it is and then it is gone and human beings often miss it.

He also talks about the serenity of being able to revisit something special in memory. He talks about this revisitation as an act of making the heart grow fonder, as he discusses the ability to be away from something for an extended period of time and being able to come back to it with more love for it than when it was left. Memories, moments, time, and the soul are discussed heavily in Wordsworth's work. It is as if he is telling the reader to take comfort and feel safe within the realm of memory because that is what it's there for; I have found often that a memory can be a cruel thing, but I think that more often than not, memory serves as a unique way of preserving moments.

Walter Pater

A counted number of pulses only is given to us of a variegated, dramatic life. How may we see in them all that is to to be seen in them by the finest senses? -Walter Pater

We have been discussing Walter Pater's Renaissance. Pater talks of experience and the intensity of that experience is one of the only things that matters. This quotation above explains this perfectly, as Pater talks about not being able to experience all that exists because our senses are limited. We can only exist under a number of experiences, and the intensity of the experience is a gauge for its importance.
Here is the conclusion of Pater's Renaissance:
http://www.subir.com/pater/renaissance/conclusion.html
In her blog, Sam points out Pater's belief that all art aspires to the condition of music. Seems interesting to think about after the blog I posted previously about my experiences with music. Everything connects....

'Good poets borrow, great poets steal'

I came away from the class presentation today thinking about the T.S. Eliot quote mentioned and was able to write a few words connecting my Capstone class to my Critical Theory class. I thought I would share what I produced for todays blog.

‘The Anxiety of Influence: The Anxiety of Criticism’
I came across a long heralded quote today in my literary Capstone class; ‘Good poets borrow, great poets steal’. T.S. Eliot’s words seem to highlight the very section I will be discussing; pages 5-9 in ‘The Anxiety of Influence’ by Harold Bloom. Throughout the introduction, Bloom suggests that while other critics have argued that poetic influence, or ‘borrowing’, is absolutely detrimental to the work of the poet and allows no room for natural passions or creative originality, he believes that poetic influence does not make poets less original. Rather, ‘[poetic influence] makes them more original, though not therefore necessarily better’ (7).
Bloom’s work attempts to dismantle the existing truths about poetic influence and the weight placed on the influence of existing poetry on poetics and artists. On page 5 in the introduction, Bloom claims that ‘poetic history […] is held to be indistinguishable from poetic influence, since strong poets make that history by misreading one another, so as to clear imaginative space for themselves’. Blooms suggestion in the first pages of the introduction is reminiscent of the aforementioned Eliot quote. Great poets steal ideas from other artists, but not necessarily the idea specific to that artist, therefore creating an entirely new space in literary history. Everything that is only exists as an extension of everything that was.
Of course, Bloom only concerns himself with ‘strong poets’. Strong poets realize if they lack the strength to overcome the anxiety of influence, like Oscar Wilde. According to Bloom, ‘weaker talents idealize; figures of capable imagination appropriate for themselves’ (5). Influence is something that exists within the realm of creativity, and just as Bloom suggests that every disciple takes away something from his master, he focuses on that fact that it is almost impossible to be wholly original.
Pages 8-9 in Bloom’s introduction discuss the element of wisdom in poetic influence; who has it, who lacks in it, and who are condemned or strengthened by it. Bloom’s argument for ‘The Anxiety of Influence’ is that strong poets are condemned to certain amount of ‘unwisdom’, the creative minds protest against the element of death and loss of time. Artists are able to create and in that realm of creation often lose touch with the reality of death, time ending, and new time beginning again. Geoffrey Hartman, as referenced by Bloom, states that ‘art fights nature on natures own ground’, a premise for the introduction and the book as a whole.
Artists dismiss the idea of death and loss just as some critics dismiss the idea of poetic influence having little positive effect on the originality of the poet. Perhaps Bloom is trying to point out that while artists often dismiss the affects of time and reality, opting to create their own sense of reality, literary critics like to dismiss the idea that originality can exist alongside poetic influence. Most importantly, Bloom emphasizes that originality has to exist alongside poetic influence, because it cannot exist any other way.

Red Into Grey and Tumble Down - East Coker Presentation

Above are the images from our East Coker presentation! My group includes Sam, Tai, Taylor, Amy, Doug, Kari, and myself... interesting group of characters!! For our presentation, we agreed on blowing up the pages of East Coker and each giving a cyclical discussion of our section, and I think it turned out well! We each brought in images we thought would aid in our discussion and further explain the deeper meaning locked within the pages of The Four Quartets.

I was so nervous when I got up to present that I nearly knocked over the poster board...twice! I know we all felt like 50 minutes wasn't enough and we had so many more things to discuss, but I think we did the poem a little bit of justice in discussing it's cyclical patterns and the element of life in death and death in life and the way one entity in life lends itself to another entity.

Well done, group! The posters turned out well and the images from the presentation are pretty neat. I am lucky to be a part of such an amazing crew!

Soul Music

So, my pursuit of getting through 'The Dead' is not going so well. Actually, every time I pick it up I find myself putting it down to find something more stimulating. When I did the same thing this afternoon, I began to ask myself a question:
What IS it I do find diamonds in? When are the moments in my life when I find those small (or large) diamonds? Where do moments of epiphany lie for me, most often?
The answer to that question is simple; in music. Music has constantly been a source of awe and inspiration for me; I got to music when I feel sad, happy, angry, hopeful... there really isn't an emotion I can't heighten, intensify, or downplay with the right music. I'm something of a music junkie, which is my dad's fault.

Ever since I was a small girl, I have been listening to the sounds of James Taylor, The Beatles, Tony Bennett, Frank Sinatra, Harry Connick, Jr., all the classic rock greats, and even The Beach Boys. These artists remain among some of my favorites because memories always come flooding back for me when I hear their music. My dad used to be a singer, but suffered from terrible stage fright. He has one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard live, and I used to be able to catch him singing when he didn't think I was around. I would hide at the top of the staircase and listen to him singing along to the 'Singers and Standards' station. He instilled a love of music in me that no one can ever take away.

There is one particular night I will never forget, involving music and my dad. Every night before I went to sleep, I used to put on the Donny Hathaway version of 'A Song For You' before I went to bed. It made me very calm before I went to sleep and helped me rest peacefully through the night (on most occasions). One night just when I'd started the song, my dad walked in and was surprised I was even listening to the tune. It was originally sung by Leon Russell, and my dad admitted it was lyrically one of his favorite songs. He started singing along with the music coming from the stereo, and it put me in a trance! I felt tears come to my eyes and I just sat there staring at him and crying and feeling very lucky to have my family. It was one of the most epiphanical moments of my life, though I can't even explain the epiphany that had come to me. It was something I shared with my dad, just me and him, and I will never forget it. Here are the lyrics to that song:

I've been so many places in my life and time
I've sung a lot of songs I've made some bad rhyme
I've acted out my love in stages
With ten thousand people watching
But we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

I know your image of me is what I hope to be
I've treated you unkindly but darlin' can't you see
There's no one more important to me
Darlin' can't you please see through me
Cause we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

You taught me precious secrets of the truth witholding nothing
You came out in front and I was hiding
But now I'm so much better and if my words don't come together
Listen to the melody cause my love is in there hiding

I love you in a place where there's no space or time
I love you for in my life you are a friend of mine
And when my life is over
Remember when we were together
We were alone and I was singing this song for you
We were alone and I was singing this song for you

These days, I feel most uplifted when I'm listening to soul music, from old soul to the newer artists in the neo-soul category. Artists like Maxwell, John Legend, Jill Scott, Amel Larrieux, Anthony Hamilton, and many others give me peace every single day, and I think there is something to be said for being able to have those little moments every day. Life is never easy and peace is sometimes hard to find, but in music I can always find some sort of serenity. It gets me through.

The Uncovered Dead Diamond

'The Dead' by James Joyce. Woofta. We were supposed to read this little number and come up with some sort of 'diamond' to present to the class, something we found in the reading to be particularly epiphanical. Well, I procrastinated and went to the first round of these 'diamond' presentations without actually having found one of my own, thinking it would be easier to find one after hearing what other people had to say. Well, it's not any easier. In fact, I don't feel like I can find one at all.

For one, I can't find anything someone else hasn't already mentioned, and I don't want to mention something someone has already mentioned. Also, I have been having quite a difficult time getting through the text as it is. What a BORING piece of literature! I know, I know... literature is never boring, only people are boring. I don't want to be boring! I have to find some way to get through 'The Dead'. That's the next assignment I'm giving myself.