19
NOV
2019

Scratching the itch – postponing the premonitory urge – seeking the angle of repose

We want to “fit in” — our intersubjective urge leads us to find (maybe sometimes invent) shared qualities with those around us.  We sing together, hymns, anthems of our age, anything…

Most nights (during my mid-sleep-cycle awake time) and mornings,  I groom my previous day’s notes. Often there is a premonitory urge, a trying to scratch the obsessive Tourette’s itch of solving the mystery, of wringing order from chaos, and of damping down (more likely postponing) the urge before it intrudes on my keeping faith with public commitments.  Sometimes it’s like a haunting melody that I can hear in my head but not express out loud.  (some strokes leave the patient thinking clearly, but unable to express themselves –sound a bit like Cassandra)

So I search–like the poet Franz Wright (as Langdon Hammer (2006) put it) “as if there were a word just out of reach, beyond the words on the page. He calls that goal   /  some radiantly obvious thing I need to say, though quite what that might be escapes me at the moment, as it always has, and always will.”   And somehow that word is the lynch-pin, the keystone, the single drop of sand that triggers the cascade that  restores the stillpoint of all the aggregated particles (thoughts, feelings)–an angle of repose…  There is always the possibiity that the lost word is THE word… a tipping point, like the LOGOS that engendered the universe–the word from which all words flow (and seek to return? –sounds like … Sefirot)  

 


So, there is an intersubjective urge– BUT, recalling one of Garrison Keillor’s birthday poets in today’s The Writer’s Almanac: poet Sharon Olds  said: “…All that wanting to seem normal in regular life, all that fitting in falls away in the face of one’s own strange self on the page. […]”

 

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