"Beauty Is Truth. Truth, Beauty"

If I had begun this a few years ago, it would have been much simpler. For I would quickly launch into a discussion of Edgar Allen Poe’s essay on prose and poetry; mention the triangle (adding love) that drives much of the sub-plot of Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge; and discuss, perhaps including a photo, the commemorative ornaments sold by the Library of Congress featuring John Keats’ quote that titles this post.

At another time I would have talked about the significance of simple things in William Carlos William’s focused descriptions or William Blake’s suggestion that eternity could be glimpsed through intense observation.

I might have even (and I’ll give you a bit more here) relayed Eric G. Wilson’s melancholy view in his book, Against Happiness, that his connectedness with “rhythms that drive” the earth and all life, “their sweet contracting and expanding,” “this unique and unrepeatable possibility” is beautiful not only because it is fleeting, but because of its authenticity.

And that comes closest so far to what I intend to develop.

Truth and Beauty

I know, I know.
But I have a feeling this is going to be the focus of my next several posts so why not declare it?

In the mean time. . .

Behind It All

Just a short little quotation I ran across today from a much longer poem.


from "Auguries of Innocence" by William Blake


To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,
And Eternity in an hour.

“Living, Loving Quietly”

Ray LaMontagne has got to be the Bob Dylan of our current times.

Examine lyrics (easily located on the Web) from his Trouble album or from Till the Sun Turns Black to find a singular insight.

When I first read the title, “Till the Sun Turns Black,” I was turned off by its depressing idea, but the French horns coupled with his signature guitar grabbed me, and I was drawn into their soft lyrical simplicity.

I listened repeatedly. To the music. To the words. To the acoustic guitar with its constant assuring rhythm. To the strings and timpani building with the emotion and pain of his voice. To the horns as they enter and frame the last verses.

Then I wondered which verse was mine? Who was I in the song?

“young and pretty . . . blooming, laughing”

“old and lonely walking”

“corporate man winning”

“working classes trudging”

But it didn’t matter for the life activity of each would recycle “till the sun turns black.” Was my life like this? Too very often, yes. I prayed that I would no longer let it be.

I don’t believe we’re cast here to the earth in a cruel way – unable to be what we’re supposed to be – unable to function or experience the world – unable to make sense of it – unable to cope – unable to know – unable to be.

But so often my energy is focused on myself. What I’m doing, what I need, what I want. What I must accomplish. Do I notice who surrounds me, give them what they might need or want? I prayed that I would know how.

No matter whom we are, how different we are, what we have known in our lives, we all breathe the need for hope. Ironically, as the song ultimately suggests, it is the “wise man simply living, loving” that in my opinion can break the monotonous march to the end supplying in “every breath he takes, eternity.”

"To Meet the Night in Ways that Bring the Dawn"

This has been a most difficult post to complete.

Perhaps due to the number of quotations I could not bear to lose.

Or because it is based on one meaningful to me for most of my life.

Though it hasn't brought me or anyone I know out of difficult times, it reminds me how to keep from them.

“to meet the night in ways that bring the dawn”[1]

a book title

and poem

a poet reading from his work

sits among us sharing lines

composed for his individual students

their talents encouraged

personalities affirmed

and hardships acknowledged

“to meet the night in ways that bring the dawn”

when circumstances force

dark nights of the soul

I know morning follows evening

"but evil thought and deed

suffering so apparently growing

power subverting greater ideas and causes

turns me under like a wave—flipped

sand-stirred, churned in the break

without surface or boundary"[2]

“. . . it is necessary that [the soul] be placed in emptiness and poverty and desertion on all sides, and be left parched, void, and empty and in darkness.”[3]

to meet the night

do not be caught off guard

in ways that bring the dawn

be assured of its passing

persevere toward and welcome solution

“Moses drew near to the thick darkness

where God was.”[4]

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[1] To Meet the Night in Ways that Bring the Dawn, Ross L. Mooney

[2] “Ignorance Is Not Innocence,” Jennifer Elliott Jackson

[3] The Dark Night of the Soul, St. John of the Cross

[4] Exodus 20:21 and used in Losing Moses on the Freeway, Chris Hedges