Comment 3 of 27, added on May 4th, 2007 at 12:50 PM.
“Oneness with Emily.”
By: Danielle Martin
“Art imitates life. Life imitates high school.”
~ Brad Cohen
“Literature has always had its circus side, its freaks and its frivolities
- and maybe that's all part of it, and no bad thing if it draws people
towards what is most worthwhile.”
~Alain de Botton
To understand the symbolism of nature, whether it is spring, winter, fall,
summer, you, literature, poetry, or anything at all, we must first
understand that everything we know will either change or grow. This is the
essence of our beings, and indeed, of the entire universe. It is entwined
with our need to create art, to write lilting sonnets, noble verse, or
proficient lessons for all to assimilate. The breadth of nature is
contained within our bodies, like miniature reflections of the universe. We
are meant to be in union with nature, not in conflict with it, and we learn
to seek their lessons in ourselves first before we can see the great
picture. We must seek after what the Japanese refer to as, “Shin-shin,
shin-gan,” or “The mind and eyes of God.” Only then will we be able to
comprehend the enormity and true significance hidden in the ways literature
and art impact and combine with our everyday lives. This idea that poetry
cannot be interpreted properly by the uninitiated is well-documented in
Emily Dickinson’s poem, “I taste a liquor never brewed.” This poem shows
her incredible high on nature and her need to be as one with nature. She
goes on to report that the reader who seeks understanding of the poem must
also be at one with the universal process or they will never understand
either.
Literature is something that seeks after the divine in all of us. Like an
intimate etude between master and pupil, the author wishes to impart
something to us, to teach us a grand lesson formerly hidden in our own
souls; the master shows us the grand potential inside us, and then we bring
it out. The law of the universe is growth, or change, and this is how
literature reflects everyday life. It doesn’t fight nature; it works with
its difficulties, rejoices with its pleasures, laughs at its ironies, and
dances with it as conjoined partner. In its very essence, art is nature,
and nature is art. The two lose their distinction from one another when
viewed this way. Seeing them as one, and allowing their enchanting
resonances to fill our minds and hearts, we attempt union with them when
indeed, we are already there. We just need to realize it first.
This is what literature means to me in the way it sings to my life. It is
the only way I know to describe it. I started writing at a very young age,
around 7 years, and have never stopped. It has been a constant companion
and wise teacher. It is a friend that has never let me down, a confidant
when I needed one, and a great love, true and deep. After all, "A poet is,
above all else, a person passionately in love with language” (W.H. Auden).
Emily Dickinson talked about this immersion of the human poet into the
universal psyche in her legendary poem, “This was a Poet—It is That.” Let’s
break the poem open and see what we can find, shall we?
This was a Poet—It is That
Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings—
And Attar so immense
From the familiar species
That perished by the Door—
We wonder it was not Ourselves
Arrested it—before—
Of Pictures, the Discloser—
The Poet—it is He—
Entitles Us—by Contrast—
To ceaseless Poverty—
Of portion—so unconscious—
The Robbing—could not harm—
Himself—to Him—a Fortune—
Exterior—to Time—
First of all, notice the title. Four words are capitalized, the first one,
which is understandable, but also the words “Poet,” “It,” and “That.”
Accordingly, we see that this is a very pointed description of what a poet
is, what being a poet meant to Emily. The word “Poet,” being emphasized,
along with the word “That,” say that a poet is “That,” or what will follow
in the description. Maybe Emily was also showing her unique language in
communicating with this universe, thus the unusual punctuation and
capitalization. As she was a spiritual shamanistic guide for us, she
clearly says in other words from other times, “A privilege so awful / What
would the Dower be, / Had I the Art to stun myself / With Bolts of Melody!"
(505).
Remember that we are talking about secrets hidden inside all of us, not
just a few of us. "Poetic creation still remains an act of perfect
spiritual freedom. Poetry remakes and prolongs language; every poetic
language begins by being a secret language, that is, the creation of a
personal universe, of a completely closed world." ~Mircea Eliade
Miss. Dickinson goes on, restating her title in the first line, then onto:
“Distills amazing sense.” This can be seen as amazement at how much poetry
has taught her, but in a practical way. The fact that it distills sense,
this wonderful act of creating, says to her that it comes slowly, and that
it remains a purifying process where falsehood is stripped away leaving
only truth.
“From ordinary Meanings.” This says that everyday life is absorbed through
the act of writing and then, taken with the previous line, we see that
mundane existence is what brings profound truth to the poet! She
capitalizes “Meaning,” which accentuates, again, what poetry is all about.
Meaning is its primary goal.
“And Attar so immense.” Attar is a perfume or essential oil obtained from
flowers or petals. She is describing how “Meaning,” comes so sweetly after
it has been distilled, or factored, through the mind. It leaves a peaceful
feeling so overwhelming that it is like living in a fragranced soul for all
eternity.
“From the familiar species.” Is a reference to humans, however it should
not be seen as a insignificant line. In the world of the poet, all lines
have meanings deep and connected with grand lessons. For instance, the fact
that she uses the words “familiar,” and “species,” says so much.
“Familiar,” is a word that can mean to be thoroughly conversant, or in
symbiosis, with something. Here, she says she is conversant with the
“species,” or human beings. This implies that, although she is in tune with
humans, and has much in common with them, she feels her sense of
understanding separates her from others who do not take the same journey
into the mind. As you may know, Emily was a recluse for many years, and
this line says that she knows that, and also says, in a subtle way, why.
“That perished by the Door.” This is my favorite line, as it is referring
to the door to enlightenment. I once wrote that people so often, “Lay down
their roots at the entrance to enlightenment.” Both lines mean the same
thing: people get to the door but rarely cross it. Instead, they settle for
an unrealized life with safe explanations and imposed limitations. Emily is
saying that this familiar species perishes by the door, but she is also
implying that she has opened it and stepped through. Read Aldous Huxley’s
“The Doors of Perception,” for more insight.
“We wonder it was not Ourselves, Arrested it—before.” These two lines go
best together for analysis, as they should. This is a touching, humble
sentiment that practically weeps her understanding of how she “perished at
the door” to enlightenment at one time. But it has been so long ago, she
has forgotten what it was like to think ordinary anymore. She gained
penetrating knowledge of life, and now can never go back to simplicity. At
one time, her progress had been “arrested,” and so she takes pity upon
humanity that “perishes by the door.” I find these lines heartbreaking, for
I have always known I was on a path that many would never follow, and that
they had paths I could never follow either. I believe Emily knew the same
thing.
“Of Pictures, the Discloser—The Poet—it is He—Entitles Us—by Contrast—To
ceaseless Poverty.” How touching these words are! Taken in full, we see
that the poet sees images in full disclosure, life comes in detail, and
shows us clearly the other side of life. We understand the ego’s desires
and are void of such things as wanting more power for selfish gain, or more
money for material goods. We seek the deeper realization that life is meant
to be lived in union with, not in conflict with, time and nature. Poverty
here probably didn’t mean her own financial situation as much as it meant
to live a life empty, and open. She carries nothing with her inside that is
an obstacle to her growth anymore; she lives a life of selfless sacrifice
for understanding. While time and totality contains all the answers, and is
rich in knowledge, we as human beings must be in poverty, or devoid, of any
pre-conceived ideas in order to fill up with timeless wisdom. When we carry
around limiting ideas we stop growth and stagnate towards change.
“Of portion—so unconscious. The Robbing—could not harm—” The average person
has a portion of what they think is understanding. But the truth of their
own existence lies in their unconsciousness. To take it, or rob it from
them, would do no harm because they would only become self-aware. If they
become self-actualized then it becomes, to “Himself—to Him—a Fortune.” This
use of the male pronoun “he” is seen earlier in the poem and refers to the
poet. With the robbing of the mind, the person now in poverty, he, or she,
amasses a great fortune of wisdom! And, they lose all plurality with the
universe and singularly unite even body and soul with time itself, their
minds aware and conscious. Thus the last line, “Exterior—to Time.”
So, how does poetry call upon life for its inspiration? It listens to
itself, the dance and sway of the human mind, the fragrance of the flowered
soul, the gentle hand of goodness. These are the things that live within
each of us; all of us are unique and yet completely the same, one reality
blending into the other simultaneously.
Poetry and literature do not reflect life, they are life.
Danielle Martin from
United States
g90dxN wow, awesome blog.Much thanks again. Fantastic.
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