The Poet E.E. Cummings Once Described The Moon As "the Lily Of The Heavens". Our Word Lily Comes From
The Poet E.E. Cummings once described the moon as "the Lily of the Heavens". Our word Lily comes from the Greek word Lilium which could mean "Pure", the Greeks called the flower Leirion meaning "True". The painter, Claude Monet very famously painted a collection of over two hundred and fifty impressionist art pieces of water lilies, that specific genus is called Nymphaea, which has the root of the Greek word Nymph, meaning bride. Some now use that word in relation to beauty. A large portion of Monet's paintings were created after the death of his wife, during and/or post-world-war-two. And some of these paintings as well were composed while he had cataracts. The products of the clouded vision of his eyes. I have been lucky enough to witness some of the paintings myself, some here in Indy, while we had them on exhibit during Newfield's "Monet and Friends", or on their permeant exhibit in Chicago, or in Cleveland or where have you. I think it's something so beautiful that we get to interact with art on these levels where our human experience is so contextual and subjective. Just so particular to us as singular individuals. Like you probably will view George Hitchcock's Calypso in a totally different light than I will. I will see it as a piece of art depicting a woman, mourning and grieving the loss of her lover Odysseus. Longing, Pining, Loving. You might just see it as a painting of a sea nymph, a "water lily" one might say now that you know some other words. But art is also objective, and out-of-context sometimes too. Monet states in his own observation and intention of his works “it would produce the illusion of an endless whole, of water with no horizon and no shore”. That is to say like the reach of their intention is finite, but our interaction and interpretation of it is in-finite. It is not definite. An “Endless Whole”. You might know that I, as an individual, I don't view grief/love, joy/sorrow as separate things. They are the same coin, and they buy into this great experience called life. And in contradiction to that, they are probably not too dissimilar as well to “water with no horizon or shore”. Monet probably painted these painting and thought of his wife, Monet probably painted and thought of the war going on around him. E.E. Cummings probably wrote his poems at about or around the same time Monet was painting his collection. While also(!) George Hitchcock was painting "Calypso". Isn’t that beautiful? The Rendering of Associations. I'd like to call it. If we use some entomologic arguments here based off of what I’ve told you in this ‘dissertation’ (jokingly, basically), one might be able build off what Cummings wrote as "the Moon, the true pure beauty of the Heavens.”. Like what have I spent the last five-hundred-some-odd words writing about here. Painters and Paintings? Poetry? Love? Loss? Have I been writing this to the Moon, or is it to you maybe? Or this to one particular special person right now that I think about in my reflections of the moon, or flowers or water? These ‘Illusions’ as Monet might describe or in my case here an allusion of a seamless image. “The Rendering of Associations of The Endless Whole of Life.”
More Posts from Thewritingchild and Others
C'mere sweet child a hard truth is that sometimes you will write whole chapters for a person in your life, but all you will ever be is only scribbles in their margins. An after thought, an editors note.
I had a pretty terrible day yesterday. I woke up in the middle of the night, and my brain was like "Why don't you make a self portrait but make it plum?" So I did. And this is what I landed on. I made this after a terrible day in a terrible year, where I have felt lost and confused. What I've learned while making this is that Identity and Narrative are things you have to give to yourself.
I believe we are apt to see the truth as lies. Lies sometimes are alluring, sweeter to the ear, or easier to believe. We trick even ourselves, justifying them and enabling them. Pain and Anger are the greatest among the liars. They hurt us, so we doubt the truth. We define our Identity by our Truths. I will share with you what I have thought, felt and learned. Love, the complete commitment to the well being and happiness of yourself, another person or people without any condition or modifier. Integrity, the practice of being uncompromised in one's values and actions. Kindness, it is a behavior defined by consideration and concern. It is gentle, and it is generous. We become the truths we believe in. We accept the lives or the lies we agree with. We can choose, more importantly You can choose these things. But do not do this partially, or reluctantly, you have to accept it wholly. It is a challenge and it takes time. I am still learning. But if you allow them to they will change you.
Do you think that Eurydice ever forgave Orpheus? I know I would. I can't help but think we all would look back. Maybe it's just the way we are born? Already gripped and snatched into worry, fear, anxiety and uncertainty. But Apollo gave his Son the gift of a Heavy Heart. And the Courage that comes with it. Even Eurydice made the mistake to be distracted and wrapped up in the clouds, only to be bitten by what's on the ground. But how could you not be? The songs of creation that made even trees dance and boulders sing, the beats were to her name. Eurydice. A Muse to the Highest Order and Element. Orpheus was always meant to lose. Because his Love for Eurydice would always compel him to look back, and his Failure only Proves that. I could Forgive them.
"Yet then again," This was a phrase commonly muttered by my now deceased Grandmother Pat. She used it often as either contradiction or conjecture. It was her verbal crutch that tethered her thoughts together. "Still even in addition to what has already been mentioned" I guess is much more a mouthful than the previous statement. But I keep on thinking about that Yet. How it could also mean "by now or then". Then "Afterward" and Again "Once More". I wonder if she knew all the while she was also saying a secret comfort to us, something that was analogous to Love and how it is omnipresent in our Lives. Love is "Here and There, Now and Then. Afterwards, Once Again."
If you have a limited world you become content with mediocre often times worthless things.
As got out of my car and bolted for the front door I prayed I wouldn't drop my keys because it was just pouring rain. Every inch of me was already covered by the time I got the door open. I realized I was laughing as I went to go shut it. I thought of you and your smile as I slid down the door frame and god do I miss you.
I had this thought occur to me today. They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I suppose tho that a Katydid cannot sleep when a Lark sings. Something may be beautiful to you, but it may be damning or dangerous to another.
We are empty vessels and the hollow casks. Our spirit is the kindling and love is our fire. Burning blazing brilliant. Most other things are cheap substitutes for the kindling of our fires. They are meager, and fleeting. Dying. Love is eternal. So, so are our spirits.
If you sift through and break yourself down to it's smallest parts. What would they actually look like honestly? I think some of us would automatically respond, positively. And insincerely. Not honestly.
I think it would all do us well to better inspect ourselves.
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