The thrush, garden, and theme of "what might have been" are very reminiscent of Burnt Norton, but I didn't catch it initially. Is this intentionally in conversation with Eliot or just a happenstance?
My friends and I are going to be working through and discussing Four Quartets some time soon, which i’m really looking forward to haha I’ve already started re-reading it in preparation. I’m glad I caught on to your reference (albeit a little late)!
I took Eliot somewhat differently, and saving for the fact that you’re happy with the present whereas Eliot’s speaker is not, I think you’re mostly of one mind with him. His thrush’s deception (that there is some other way things could have been) is something Eliot knows he should resist. He compares the temptation to ruminate on a speculative vision of the past to Odysseus’s men on the Island of the Lotus-eaters. I can’t remember the specific lines, but Eliot borrowed from Augustine’s reflections on past, present, and future in Confessions. According to Augustine, the past doesn’t exist (how much less the past that “could have been”?); there is only the present.
That's interesting. I admit to not being an Eliot scholar the way I want to be, but I do think there is one major point of disagreement that I have with his perspective. Even while recognizing that his perspective makes for great poetry, I find it easy to love the now that is while remembering the past that was, without wondering what might have been. I also disagree with Augustine, for that matter. I see the past more as a concrete monolith that can't be chipped away. Even while our full vision of it chips away, it itself stands unalterable. I love that the monolith exists. I love it in all of its bulk and many particles and strength. And I also love that the now is becoming part of the same monolith, even as I look forward to what possibly could be part of the monolith in the future. The thrush, in my case, does not deceive. It only sends me away from longing for what will never be.
I'd love to be a fly on the wall during your discussions of the Quartets! Sounds fascinating and valuable.
Great poem (and reading), Mark. Yes indeed, gardens are ideal environments to be planted. (Doors provide possibility maybe, but they're also pretty stale.)
Thanks, James. Maybe I should be less of a try-hard with my readings ... this one was a one-take dinner-is-ready rendition. Maybe instinct reveals truth more than refinement. Stale doors! Love the comparison to bread. Some bread's just not worth eating.
No, I like your recitations! Poetry's such an auditory experience that I appreciate hearing a poem as the writer himself intended it to be heard. Sometimes I wonder about certain sections, and so it's great to hear the audio to get a better feeling for intent. The tone, too, is usually unique among writers, so I enjoy getting a sense of that, too.
"The bird sang out, the bird
that calls and sends away;
it only called to close the door."
I love it.
Thank you, Liv.
Great poem. I loved the line, “your view that side of everything.” Something about this one!
Thanks, Consuelo!
So beautiful. And that last line!
Thank you, Margaret Ann!
The thrush, garden, and theme of "what might have been" are very reminiscent of Burnt Norton, but I didn't catch it initially. Is this intentionally in conversation with Eliot or just a happenstance?
You got it! Yes, very much in conversation, even in rebuttal to his longing for what might have been.
My friends and I are going to be working through and discussing Four Quartets some time soon, which i’m really looking forward to haha I’ve already started re-reading it in preparation. I’m glad I caught on to your reference (albeit a little late)!
I took Eliot somewhat differently, and saving for the fact that you’re happy with the present whereas Eliot’s speaker is not, I think you’re mostly of one mind with him. His thrush’s deception (that there is some other way things could have been) is something Eliot knows he should resist. He compares the temptation to ruminate on a speculative vision of the past to Odysseus’s men on the Island of the Lotus-eaters. I can’t remember the specific lines, but Eliot borrowed from Augustine’s reflections on past, present, and future in Confessions. According to Augustine, the past doesn’t exist (how much less the past that “could have been”?); there is only the present.
That's interesting. I admit to not being an Eliot scholar the way I want to be, but I do think there is one major point of disagreement that I have with his perspective. Even while recognizing that his perspective makes for great poetry, I find it easy to love the now that is while remembering the past that was, without wondering what might have been. I also disagree with Augustine, for that matter. I see the past more as a concrete monolith that can't be chipped away. Even while our full vision of it chips away, it itself stands unalterable. I love that the monolith exists. I love it in all of its bulk and many particles and strength. And I also love that the now is becoming part of the same monolith, even as I look forward to what possibly could be part of the monolith in the future. The thrush, in my case, does not deceive. It only sends me away from longing for what will never be.
I'd love to be a fly on the wall during your discussions of the Quartets! Sounds fascinating and valuable.
There’s certainly a lot that can be said. Anyway, your poem is wonderful in its own right! Worthy of the poem it is in conversation with.
You're very kind.
Great poem (and reading), Mark. Yes indeed, gardens are ideal environments to be planted. (Doors provide possibility maybe, but they're also pretty stale.)
Thanks, James. Maybe I should be less of a try-hard with my readings ... this one was a one-take dinner-is-ready rendition. Maybe instinct reveals truth more than refinement. Stale doors! Love the comparison to bread. Some bread's just not worth eating.
No, I like your recitations! Poetry's such an auditory experience that I appreciate hearing a poem as the writer himself intended it to be heard. Sometimes I wonder about certain sections, and so it's great to hear the audio to get a better feeling for intent. The tone, too, is usually unique among writers, so I enjoy getting a sense of that, too.
This speaks peace.
I’m glad, Mom!
You beautifully capture the essence of life.
Thank you, Donna.
The power of your reading really brings this one to life. I particularly like that you're "in a garden far from doors".
Thank you, Kilby. No better place to be planted!