Adonais: Spring Beckons

. . . and time reckons.

"I don't want to alarm you, but . . . ."

What you say to your kayaking-buddy when you're in 80 feet of salt water and your paddle contacts something moving beneath your boat.

(I think those were my words, but I kind of can't remember.)

______

P.S.  A friend wanted more . . . wanted the "end" of the story:

My kayak-buddy then had caught a lingcod, a predator fish, so I prefer to think that that lingcod had followed the last fish caught, had bumped my paddle, and then was caught himself.

Any other stories--and I have many in my head-- would cause anxiety.

So, happy ending for the kayakers.

(I really felt a moving body under my paddle: fish, seal, shark, other?  Mostly likely, a seal.  You tell me.)

_______

P.P.S.    So, the lingcod was 24 inches long, and at the time I figured he'd followed the hooked rockfish my pal Jeff was reeling in, but now I'm thinking I felt a seal or sea lion, most likely, following the rockfish instead.  (I've watched seals chase hooked salmon and bite off all but the head just before I could reel in the fish completely, for example.)  We hadn't seen any seals for hours, so we didn't think first about seals.  A shark is also possible, but I'd rather go with the seal.  I felt something solid but flexible, muscles shifting beneath skin, but that's describing the feeling I had while holding a paddle.

Shark Dream

Early this morning, I had my very first shark attack dream.  I've been diving since 1978, and I've had plenty of shark dreams, dreams in which I watch sharks swim from shore, dreams in which I seem to swim with sharks deep underwater, dreams menacing and dreams awe-inspiring, but dreams getting attacked . . . first time.  In the dream, I was out on a kayak with a friend, and we were going to free dive.  Somewhere up north--Sonoma or Mendocino coast.  We anchored our boats to kelp, and we got ready to enter the water, planning to drop down into the kelp forest.  For some reason in the dream--for I would never dive in this manner--I dropped my fins and mask & snorkel overboard, and then I swam down to the equipment in the dreamily-overly-clear water.  As I swam down, I could see some sort of body mass and some sort of movement in the near distance, but without my mask, I could not see clearly enough to make out details.  I certainly felt nervous.  At the bottom, I donned my mask and cleared it a bit, using only a little of the air in my lungs, and pulled on both fins as I looked about, spinning slowly to cover the 360 degrees.  There, swimming away, was a large shark.  As I slowly moved upward, trying to kick slowly, easily, calmly, sending out the vibes of functional-fish, not of awkward-fearful-prey, I could see the shark turn and circle and then rush for me.  Of course, I woke just before that open mouth closed on my body . . . .

And, of course, I had to get up, walk around, and drink some water before I could shake loose of that final moment.

"The Other Worlds": Life's Largest Riddle

The Other Worlds is an excellent mythopoeic novel by a dear friend, Christoph Greger.  Christoph's own humble way of introducing the book to the world is worth quoting: "Hey all you cystic fibrosis lit fans, Ren fair geeks, and/or mythopoeic/modernist bildungsroman junkies -- here's something that might be of interest."

This fine novel deserves deep interest, presenting classic character-in-crisis; entertaining and evoking in the tradition of Yeats, Morris, Dunsany, de Lint, and Windling; and offering entry into multiple worlds, this one we share and those others 'beyond the fields we know'.  The setting and the style are distinctly contemporary; the themes and dilemmas, definitely timeless.  Life's largest riddle--mortality--met by mystery, measured by memory, and beset--or aided?--by magic waits at the heart of The Other Worlds.

Read this book.

Conflagration

Last night's surprise street scene.

Face Your Inner Fish

Face your fears?

Face your fish.

Frogfish:
stoneware; blue and brown glazing.

Captain's Log

Feeling Like The Captain:

I've felt like Captain Jack Sparrow for days now, having spent enough hours on the water last Thursday and Friday -- those bright, surgy days -- to absorb those rhythms and motions! I love that feeling.

By feeling like Captain Jack, I mean feeling wobbly and tilty and one with the sea.  He had the Black Pearl, and I have Sofia

 Log Jam:  While kayaking last Thursday, I was startled by a shape in the water, by a long brown shape, that I took to be a mature sea lion that I was suddenly much too close to.  Not a harbor seal, for the shape was too too long and broad, but a sea lion, and at close quarters, a full-grown sea lion could do plenty of defensive damage.  That brown shape was just a log, however, a carved-off tree-portion about six or seven feet long drifting in the cove.

Now, having been surprised by that log, that shape, I back-paddled furiously and avoided any collision.  Which would have been the right action, particularly if it had been a marine mammal.  Still, I am struck by how much my startled response came before any rational sense of "Hey, that might be a sea lion, so avoid hitting the creature"; and, from reading and teaching Laurence Gonzales' Deep Survival, I am well aware of the dynamics of amygdala trumping hippocampus, of emotional reaction before rational decision, but still I would like to have not been so afraid of a shape.  Haven't I trained for these situations?  Haven't I paddled and visualized enough to respond more thoughtfully?  Or, at least less fearfully?  Was this a failure of grace?   Or should I appreciate how much my core self, the body/emotional self, worked to take me out of (perceived) danger?

Graves: "Heroes of the Nursery"

THE BEACH

Louder than gulls the little children scream 
Whom fathers haul into the jovial foam; 
But others fearlessly rush in, breast high, 
Laughing the salty water from their mouthes-- 
Heroes of the nursery. 

The horny boatman, who has seen whales 
And flying fishes, who has sailed as far 
As Demerara and the Ivory Coast, 
Will warn them, when they crowd to hear his tales, 
That every ocean smells of tar. 

--Robert Graves

Robert Graves' "Apple Island"

APPLE ISLAND

Though cruel seas like mountains fill the bay,
Wrecking quayside huts,
Salting our vineyards with tall showers of spray;

And though the moon shines dangerously clear,
Fixed in another cycle
Than the sun’s progress round the felloe’d year;

And though I may not hope to dwell apart
With you on Apple Island
Unless my beat be docile to the dart —

Why should I fear your element, the sea,
Or the full moon, your mirror,
Or the halved Apple from your holy tree?

— Robert Graves

Dougie MacLean: "Ready For The Storm"

READY FOR THE STORM

The waves crash in and the tide pulls out

It's an angry sea but there is no doubt 

That the lighthouse will keep shining out to warn the lonely sailor

And the lightning strikes and the wind cuts cold through the sailor's bones, to the sailor's soul

Till there's nothing left that he can hold except the rolling ocean

CHORUS

But I am ready for the storm, yes sir, ready

I am ready for the storm, I'm ready for the storm

Oh give me mercy for my dreams

Cause every confrontation seems

To tell me what it really means to be this lonely sailor

But when the sky begins to clear and the sun it melts away my fear

I'll cry a silent weary tear for those that need to love me

CHORUS

The distance it is no real friend

And time will take its time

And you will find that in the end it brings you me, the lonely sailor

And when you take me by your side you love me warm, you love me and

I should have realized I had no reason to be frightened

CHORUS

--Dougie Maclean

A favorite song, like so many of the great Scotsman's creations.

Four Anchors: sculpture mix; jade glazing.

A Novel Mirror

"The Antiquary was, indeed, uncommonly delighted; for, like many other men who spend their lives in obscure literary research, he had a secret ambition to appear in print, which was checked by cold fits of diffidence, fear of criticism, and habits of indolence and procrastination."

--Sir Walter Scott, from his novel The Antiquary.

Linda Gregg's "All The Different Kinds Of Years"

ARRIVING AGAIN AND AGAIN WITHOUT NOTICING

I remember all the different kinds of years,

angry, or brokenhearted, or afraid.

I remember feeling like that 

walking up the mountain along the dirt path

to my broken house on the island.

And long years of waiting in Massachusetts.

The winter walking and hot summer walking.

I finally fell in love with all of it:

dirt, night, rock and far views.

It's strange that my heart is full

now as my desire was then.

--Linda Gregg

(My pal Meredith sent me this poem years ago for my 45th birthday.)

Shakespeare: "Cabined, Cribbed, Confined"

MACBETH:
Then comes my fit again. I had else been perfect,
Whole as the marble, founded as the rock,
As broad and general as the casing air.
But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in
To saucy doubts and fears.—But Banquo’s safe?

--Shakespeare's Macbeth 3.4. . . .

"Oh Malachi Malarkey" (Poetry)

OH MALACHI MALARKEY

When the ropes of reason slacken
When the veils of prudence thin
Then intuition beckons
Then souls fit skin to skin

Hope can be so brittle
Clay not fired to the core
Well-thrown bowls roughly handled
Scattered shells along the shore

Now there's a measure in the offing
Now the surges swell with pride
Say, is this canny craft a coffin?
Say, may your reach not fall too shy

Oh, Malachi Malarkey
Oh, Sophia Sophrosyne
Heed the reefs not yet charted
Seek that green isle beyond design

--MD



(the latest attempt to play with verse and not just savor, not just quote)


If I manage to compose enough poems for a collection, I'm thinking of calling it "Shore Leave," as this post was originally entitled.

Shadows of the Past: Advice

"Think harder; write better."
--from one of my favorite professors to the English 47B class as a whole; he was a tad frustrated with the first essays we had handed in . . . .

"Don't indulge your natural diffidence."
--from a professor after a mock-interview back in the graduate school days; spot on, by the way.

"Be wary of that tendency to idealize, to see the best qualities and to be oblivious to all others."
--note to self, echoed by a therapist

I'm finding myself reflecting on the advice, the possible wisdom or useful statements, that I've encountered or confronted.  These three stand out, though I have no doubt forgotten even better advice that I have failed to benefit from; to those advisers who meant well for me, I wish I'd been paying closer attention.

(I think that last piece of advice was/is meant to be applied to myself by myself too.)


P.S.  A good friend who was there corrects me:
'And, I think it was: "Think harder, write better, be smarter."'

To Em--: Shark-Dream (& Of Fear)

I
Em--
I'll do a quick description of this latest shark dream/nightmare:

I was free diving up and down in the ocean, but the visibility was great and there were all sorts of people diving with tanks and doing stuff, odd stuff, like grilling fish underwater with cars anchored in the water, parked, floating, and such.

In the dream, I swam all the way down to the bottom here, and people were impressed and I was happy with that, but I really needed to head up, and I paused to accept a bit of underwater-grilled salmon from one of my students this term, an older fellow who was the nicest guy AND had faced great adversities, and I swam up and pulled myself onto the roof of this floating car, anchored with a giant chain to the bottom, but floating, sort of, with the car top at the surface.

I pull myself out and sprawl across the top of the car, enjoying my grilled salmon. (Underwater grilling?) Then, the shadow of a large shark--tiger shark, I think, but definitely not a great white shark, but big and aggressive and commanding--swims below. I can't really see very well from the car top, and I'm lying down and putting my face in the water trying to see the shark, worrying about all those tank divers and my student, etc, but the car keeps tipping and I'm worried it's going to lose whatever air is holding it up in place and that it will sink, and the shark is circling around and around.

I keep having to shift position, and I can't keep the shark in sight, and I am wondering if I should swim to somewhere else, but I'm the only free diver and I'll be silhouetted, and ... and ... and... I'm pretty worried, but I'm worried about everyone else a bit more than myself (which is a good feeling) and then

the shark is pushing against the leg I've got hanging off the side of the floating car, pushing against me, not biting, but maybe he's grabbing at someone below, so I'm beating the shark's body where I can reach it, beating and beating with my clenched fist, and I reach for my small dive knife, and

I wake up gasping.

A fairly usual night of dreaming for me.

II
Oh Em--,
I'm not that cool, though I aspire to be. I'm a bit afraid of being afraid. And, so far in life, I hope that I've stepped up as needed, not let fear get in the way.  (Maybe I'm not remembering the failures right now, but still hoping to not let fear take over in the future.)

I know that my imagination can be so strong that I have to ignore it or overpower it sometimes, and yet I also try to stay true to my intuition. Case: if it's feeling sharky out there, what do I do? Resist the over-imagination or respect the intuition? Can I tell which is which?

If I've been relaxed up until the sharky thoughts start coming in, I tend to respect the anxiety. I'll keep diving or paddling and keep checking the vibe. Finally, if I can be a little relaxed and yet still feel the sharkiness coming, I'll go in to shore or I'll not dive over the side. That's been an issue two or three times, and once I was solo in a very remote place, so it seemed wise to respect the feeling.

If I am imagining too much on the drive to the site, or I've been watching Jaws or something, I'll work harder to resist the fear. I'll push further just to test myself. Unless I've psyched myself out completely. Then, I'll do 20 or 30 minutes and head in. Only happened twice so far, ever.

Most of the time, I have no thoughts or just one or two thoughts of sharks, I knock wood on my head, and I keep diving or paddling.
--MD

Non-fiction: two passages from the correspondence I've had with a friend, lightly edited.  Gist--or roughish notes, in both cases.  I'm posting now not to lose the material, essentially, for I know I'll come back here and want to edit and revise for more accurate vision, more attentive assessments.  

William Dunbar's "Lament for the Makers"

LAMENT FOR THE MAKERS

I that in heill was and gladness
Am trublit now with great sickness
And feblit with infirmitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Our plesance here is all vain glory,
This fals world is but transitory,
The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The state of man does change and vary,
Now sound. now sick, now blyth, now sary,
Now dansand mirry, now like to die: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

No state in Erd here standis sicker;
As with the wynd wavis the wicker
So wannis this world's vanitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Unto the Death gods all Estatis,
Princis, Prelattis, and Potestatis,
Baith rich and poor of all degree: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He takis the knichtis in to the field
Enarmit under helm and scheild;
Victor he is at all mellie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

That strong unmerciful tyrand
Takis, on the motheris breast sowkand,
The babe full of benignitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He takis the campion in the stour,
The captain closit in the tour,
The lady in bour full of bewtie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He spairis no lord for his piscence
Na clerk for his intelligence;
His awful straik may no man flee. --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Art-magicianis and astrologic,
Rethoris, logicianis, and theologis,
Them helpis no conclusionis slee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In medecine the most practicianis,
Leechis, surrigianis and physicianis,
Themself from Death may nocht supplee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

I see that makaris amang the lave
Playis is here their padyanis, syne gods to grave;
Sparit is nocht their facultie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He has done petuously devour
The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour,
The Monk of Bury, and Gower, all three: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

The good Sir Hew of Eglintoun,
Ettrick, Heriot, and Wintoun,
He has tane out of this cuntrie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

That scorpion fell has done infeck
Maister John Clerk, and James Afflek,
Fra ballat-making and tragedie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Holland and Barbour he has berevit ;
Alas! that he not with us levit
Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Clerk of Tranent eke he has tane,
That made the aventeris of Gawaine;
Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill
Slain with his schour of mortal hail,
Quhilk Patrick Johnstoun might nocht flee: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He has reft Mersar his endite
That did in luve so lively write,
So short, so quick, of sentence hie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

He has tane Rowll of Aberdene,
And gentill Rowll of Cortorphine;
Two better fallowis did no man see: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

In Dunfermline he has tane Broun
With Maister Robert Henrysoun;
Sir John the Ross enbrasit has he: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

And he has now sane, last of a,
Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw.
Of quhom all wichtis hes pitie: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Good Maister Walter Kennedy
In point of Dedth lies verily;
Great ruth it were that so suld be: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Sen he has all my brothers sane,
He will nocht let me live alane;
Of force I mon his next prey be: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

Since for the Death remeid is none,
Best is that we for Death dispone
After our death that live may we: --

Timor Mortis conturbat me.

 --William Dunbar (1460?-1520?)


From The Oxford Book of English Verse, 1250-1900,
edited by Arthur Quiller-Couch.
Oxford : Clarendon Press ; London.

Shakespeare: "If It Were Done When 'Tis Done"

Light -- and dark -- reading.

"The Sea In The Head": Two More From Kennelly's "Islandman"

When will we permit the sea in the head

To flow as it will?

The moon has laws but no theories.

It sends out a cold, golden call

And hangs in suspense for the answer

We fear to give.

I would release the sea in the head.

I would let it live,

Pour through the brain's darkest caves,

Out through the eyes,

Touching the distant skin of other 

Minds and bodies.

Who will say which is more real --

My hands on the sea,

The strange flesh or the hurt roar

That is part of me?

Who will say which is more felt --

Loneliness

Or the desolation written on stones

When the sea withdraws?

I have learned to live both night and day

Uncertain of day and night.

This beautiful island is poised forever

In a dubious light.

--Brendan Kennelly,

Two poems from his "Islandman," a book or sequence of poems that  I've pointed to and quoted from before here and here.

Borrowed, with respect, from this volume:

Brendan Kennelly, Breathing Spaces: Early Poems, 
Bloodaxe Books: Newcastle upon Tyne, 1992.

"My Aim Is True": Novel Navigation?

Or, By Bluff and Blunder?
Or, Compassion As Compass?
Or, Pin The Tale On The Donkey?

I'll stop with the subtitles, the alternative guides, and move to my central concern.  Here are three quotations that I've probably offered before, but the last few days I've found them resonating alongside a certain ambition to craft a full-length narrative of mystery and adventure.

1.  "But I had learned long ago that resolution by itself is not enough; we are what we do, not what we think and feel."
--James Lee Burke, "Heaven's Prisoners"

Here I am quoting from memory, but this is a quotation that sticks with me, that offers a rather pitiless ideal, which draws me in even as I want to bring or find more compassion than those words offer. "Resolution" in the first part of the sentence definitely means "completion" or "finishing," not merely "deciding upon" or "resolving to do." I think this quotation will help me to set up the conflicts in the "novel" I'm attempting to outline/frame.

2.  Let's listen to my second-favorite ancient Greek poet:


I over-reached
And another
Bears the bother.

--Archilochos
trans. Davenport

I take that short poetic fragment with ruefulness, with regret in the tone, not triumph, though I can see the psychology that would exult in that way. I can see such, but save me and all of us from such, I say.


3.  And the last of the triad, for now:

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”
--Maya Angelou

Fourth?  Frankly, on reflection, I can see how all three of the quotations above spiral around each other, twining thematically into one threefold strand, and so further sayings may be called for.  Somehow, the supposed opening line of my absolute favorite ancient Greek poet's lost comic-epic also horns in . . . .

"He knew many things, and all of them badly."
Homer, from his lost Margites . . . .


I'm quoting from memory again here, but I think you can see I don't plan to tell a tale overburdened by seriousness.  And a fallible, flawed, but well-meaning character?  Who wouldn't like a bit of that?  I mean, aren't we constructed in that way ourselves, however we may aspire and resolve to do better?

And, that fourth selection just may be another way to say "Pin the tale on the donkey."