Sunday, November 27, 2016

A Minute Meditation


The white blossoms of pear trees and the slashes of red earth in the grasses, the brown rivers high and roiling.  The sky is the very blue of serenity, and the horizons are so far away as to exceed the reach of vision.  But here, just here, is a small bird hopping.

-- N. Scott Momaday --
from Again the Far Morning:  New and Selected Poems


This quotation is from the section of the book titled "Notebook."   There are a number of entries in the section, some of which I recognize as related to poems in this book, but I don't recognize this one.  However, it is one of those statements that cause me to read and pause and reread and reread again, but I am never sure why. 

Is the bird simply a distraction or is Momaday making a point here,  one which I'm missing?


22 comments:

  1. One small human + one small bird alone together within the vastness of nature. I have had similar experiences. Meaning? Do such experiences have meaning? I don't know.
    Thanks, Fred, for the minute meditation. I think, though, I will need more than a minute.

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    1. R.T.,

      A time for the large and a time for the small?

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    2. The paradox boggles within our limits within limitless nature and time itself.

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    3. "I will need more that a minute": funny, Tim, tx... i surmise the variation in distance is cited for poetic reasons, but also to indicate something of the importance of relativity: things in the distance seem that way because of how our eyes are built; near and far relate to each other as they do because of our sensory apparati...hmmm, he says; in that case why do scientific experiments verify what our senses tell us? se dice: quien sabe... makes for nice poetry, though, tx...

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    4. R.T.,

      I'm not clear as to what paradox you are referring to.

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    5. Mudpuddle,

      I'm not clear here: are you saying that things that appear to be in the distance really aren't any farther away than that bird, but that they only seem that way because our senses are deluding us?

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    6. i'm not clear, either... but i've had the experience, in the desert, of not being sure of the relative size of what i was looking at, especially in death valley, once, when out on the salt pan, it was hard to tell whether the Black Mountains were small and close or large and far away... we know we live in a very large universe, and that appearances can be deceiving... measuring things helps to determine what is "real", but what does that actually say, if how we perceive is warped in a way different than we can know...?

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    7. Mudpuddle,

      I live in Tucson, Arizona, so I know what you mean. It's difficult to judge distances when there is nothing to judge the size of the object-large or small, close or near--and it's exacerbated by the clear air, especially during the cooler months as we tend to think objects that are clear, sharp, and distinct are closer than those that are blurry or indistinct.

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  2. I agree. The smallness but vivaciousness of the little life seems a contrast to the enormity of the scene.

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  3. Brian Joseph,

    Yes, movement is a powerful stimulus, a holdover, no doubt, from our hunting background--something moving may be something to eat or something that may eat us.

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  4. Paradox: how can we within our limitations and limited minds hope to understand the unlimited and ineffable? Yet we persist in the effort.

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    1. R.T.,

      But, how do we learn our limitations unless we "persist in the effort"?

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    2. I suddenly recall a lyric from _Man of La Mancha_ -- to dream the impossible dream.

      Shifting gears, I think this might be an answer to one of the questions I posed in my blog this morning: Q: why do people write? A: a persistent desire to put words to the otherwise unlimited and ineffable.

      But now I am babbling. Forgive me.

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    3. R.T.,

      Why do people write? I think it was Stephen King who said that he writes to find out what he thinks. There have been times when I surprised myself by what I wrote.

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    4. one of the eternal questions: how many people am i?... and is there a "real" I? probably why zen monks spend their time squatting in the ever present now... i like what i commented on Tim's last post, although i'm not sure which one of me it was that wrote it...

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    5. Mudpuddle,

      Eternal or perennial as some call it. I'm on one side of the fence in that I believe there's only one me and it is real. I have a cup in front of me; sometimes it holds beer, sometimes iced tea, sometimes hot tea, sometimes coffee, and sometimes water. The cup remains much the same while the content changes. The cup is the important part of me and it is real and it is one.

      This is what I believe; others may disagree and they should feel free to express their opinions.

      On issues such as these, debating is fruitless, and the best we can hope for is that the other understands our opinions but not necessarily agree with them.

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    6. well, sure... i'm not out to proselytize in any way, shape , or form; things related to the discussion pop into my head and if others might be interested, or some times not i fear, they then come out through my fingertips...

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    7. Mudpuddle,

      I think that's the way many of us function: we see or read something that reminds us of something related and out it comes. It's my belief that we all have the same need to communicate, but the what and the when and the how are what differentiates us from others.

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  5. Oops! My blog disappeared. That was a mistake. My impulsiveness and my careless keystrokes within Blogger led to the erasure. However, you do not get rid of me that easily. The blog lives with a slightly new name and address. Here is the first offering:
    http://beyond221bbakerstreetredux.blogspot.com/2016/11/the-triumph-of-caesar-by-steven-saylor.html
    Onward!

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    Replies
    1. it's the internet demons, always peeking out from behind web corners and tweaking the electrons...

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    2. Mudpuddle,

      Tweaking those fingers also.

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