Читать книгу In the Same Place - N. Thomas Johnson-Medland - Страница 6

Sustaining two seemingly opposing ideas at one and the same time is not simply an indicator of the existence of a neo-cortex, it is a keen marker that the thinker is human and a mature human at that. Being able to think locally and non-locally in terms of entities, ideas, states, and such is very high up there on the evolutionary brain scale.

The developed mind and heart and person—for that matter—can be identified by their ability to sustain complexity. As we grow and develop we are able to do more than one thing at a time and this includes thinking, feeling, hoping and performing. It is just a benchmark of growth.

I do not want to venture toward what number of chronologic years and or what psycho-social level (i.e., developmental years) are required as a numeric milestone for what it means to be mature. Primarily, because this is a volume of poems on place and not on neural development or even neural linguistics. A volume of poems concerning place.

Suffice it to say, if you can hold the notion that place has everything to do with meaning, and its opposite—that place has absolutely nothing to do with meaning—as simultaneously possible and true without exclusion, then you could surmise a mature human neo- cortex is your default operating system. And, therefore in kind, if you could hold that meaning has absolutely everything to do with place; and, also that meaning has absolutely nothing to do with place, then blah, blah, blah. . .neo-cortex. . .blah, blah, blah . . .operating system.

That being said, the concept of locale and or where a thing is, has so much to say about what a thing is. If a thing takes place “here,” there is some sort of residue of the “hereness” of that thing that has smeared itself onto the surface of that thing’s meaning. The same is then true about the “there” in which a thing may have taken place in or not. “Hereness” and ‘thereness” impact a thing’s “suchness.”

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There is some real value in finding a locale—a space that we can call the here and now—and fight for it, defend it, and win it over and against all forces that wish to take it and make it “there” or “then.” It gives us the chance to call a thing “mine” or “ours.” The true mistake; however, would be to not acknowledge that “this too shall pass”; most likely, within the twinkling of an eye. We grasp, we gain, we hold, and we lose.

Things change quickly. When you are very, very close to the center of the change and when you are at a good and healthy distance from the change it may look like the change happens slowly. But, it is purely relative. Because, if you are farther away it looks as if it happens quickly. And, if you are far enough away, it does not even appear that change occurs at all. Such is the mystery of time and place.

So, “here” and “there,” “now” and “then” are all ways of expressing place (both in time and space). They all make a difference in how the suchness of a thing is and is perceived. It may be the here and now of the earth or spaces on it, but it might also be the here and now of the interior character of who you are.

Space and time are not just terms and functions of the bigger/larger objects in our lives, but intricately woven into the cells that make up our spleen and the neuro-transmitters that carry our sense of truth and integrity (or some other thing that carries that—which we have not yet figured out how to find or name just yet). The Mercurial and Hermetic principle that everything above operates on similar principals as the things below (inside as well as outside) holds true in this conversation as we might expect.

We impact where we are—in space and in time. Where we are in space and time impacts us as well. From a distance or a different vantage point, none of this seems true. Close up and at other places all of this seems true. This is what we can sustain when we are growing.

All of this being said, I suppose the journey this collection is meant to set us on is the journey of exploration to see how we are woven into and among the where and when of who and what we are. Push and test the connections and the spaces in between to see how the one is or is not showing itself to be the other. Get a sense of what influences and in which direction.

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When we go back home we can feel a flood of emotion and suchness that makes us feel as if no time has elapsed. We readily pick up old ideas, notions, beliefs and ways of inhabiting our skin. We feel to be our old self. Likewise, when we set out to new places and times in our lives we take pieces of who we have been into those places and that impacts them.

I think we sense the reality of these ideas in simple ways like how going to the ocean can make us feel different than we do when cooped up in our homes during the snowstorms of winter. Or, we can feel the difference when we stand at the foot of Half-Dome in Yosemite National Park and stare up, as opposed to catching crayfish in the trickle of a stream along the road and under the culvert back home. Place impacts us and we it.

We need to overlay the idea of time on top of this because we can sense changes in the impact of place when we compare them to other times. We have all felt how small and colloquial our childhood home feels when we are grown up and come back to visit after a long time away. We know how returning to places of college experiences we do not always feel the same as we did when we were there before. Times and places seem to be somehow different then we have held them to be in our memory. Place matters. Time matters. Place impacts us and we it. Time impacts us and we it.

But, it is not just that simple. The antithesis is also true. We impact them as well.

There is some corrective sameness about returning home that cools us down and eases our inner disconnection with our sense of self over time. But, we also bring our newness back into that oldness in a way that shapes it as well.

It is odd like that. I get a real strong alchemical sense that our desires themselves somehow shape the way we perceive the places and spaces, the times and the eras of our being and having been in and among them. Like anything else in life, we have the choice to turn base lead into gold, if but we would so choose.

* * *

In common, less abstract terms, it matters where and when you grow up. It somehow impacts you. And, from a different place—perhaps further away in time and space—it really looks as if it has no impact. You have changed as you move further away in time and space. Both seem true.

I think of the number of times that walking in the woods helped me calm and soothe my inner anguish and angst. It has always been a place of peace and awe for me. That feeling has built up enough over time so I may go to the woods anytime and it will help me settle and find my core. Always. This speaks to the amount of meaning I have allowed the wilds to have for me and the amount of meaning I have allowed my me to add to being in the wilds. It is reciprocal.

And, perhaps that is what place and its corollary time really beg from us. A collaboration. Place and time impact us and we them. We are called and call them to interact with us and we them. Place (and therefore time) weave themselves into us and we them. This mingling and cohabitation allows for residues of each and the other to hunger and call for each other when they are together and even more so apart.

The little pieces of hometown, or of bitter anguish from a hard life call to us like magnets. Always seeking to attract more of what we had so we may feel whole and at ease again. And too, we are sometimes pulled toward the opposite—a simple recoiling against the harshness of what we knew and have now come to call dark matter in our lives.

Pushed and pulled by time and space, we will never find our meaning in who we have become unless we are able to determine if it is the time and space that calls us to them or pushes us away from them. Called because of the fondness; repelled because of the shame. But, called and repelled, none the less.

So, I guess I am back at the place where I started more or less.

Place (and therefore time) matters. It shapes us and impacts us and we it. Figuring out how it shapes and is shaped is what we spend our days learning about ourselves and our environs—whether we pay attention and understand it or not.

We have a neo-cortex to help us sort through the complexity and the layered shading of these ideas and notions, using the dappled sense of meaning to survive beyond what we would have without a neo-cortex. It helps us hold similar and opposite things in contention at the same time—seeking a balance and synthesis.

And then there is this. All of what I have said above operates for stages and states in our lives as well (sort of the inner versions of space and time).

I like the sense of place that comes from identity. Let’s say: I am in a peaceful place right now—at this point in my life. This portion of the journey is settled and calm. My life is luxuriantly at rest. Then I hit a bump and end up in a situation that is agitating and unruly. I become restless and anxious.

I can stand where I am at this point in my life—in a portion of life that is good, and experience a ripple on the surface of that place. I can hold opposites within.

I love this part of life—the way an inner space can become a place from which to journey from. These notions are really place, but not necessarily a spot to set up a chair and hang out. We may live in these places or in and out of them, but they inhabit us and we them in the same way we do a cave or a Highland’s vista. And, time—particularly felt as duration in these instances—is clearly woven into the inner landscapes.

“Over there” is about hope. “Over there” allows us to dream. “Right here” is what we’ve got. “Right here” is as it is now.

Seeing those places in the hillside, or on the beach, or along the river brings possibility. They are far enough away that we can believe life would be different there—we would be different there. So, there is a lot of therapy bound up in far off and future spaces, places, and times. We have the distance to imagine difference.

Bringing “that” and “this” together is our landscape. We knead these differences into our poems to reveal truth. We sprinkle our pile of words with “what is” and “what could be” so people can make sense of here and there. Place unfolds in meaning as words are given to describe its texture and depth. Without words we would be lost for understanding and design. We could not craft brave new worlds out of what we have in front of us—what we find pleasant.

And so, it is not just the place of place that is vital and integral to human health, and growth, and homeostasis. It is the words we give to describe and assign meaning to place that also bear out much of the import of place and space.

How we hold place and how we hope to mold space is tied up in our sense of here and there; of now and then. We define places in our lives and are defined by places in our lives. As with all the rest of life, place lives on the razor’s edge; somewhere betwixt and between the duality of oneness and the conjunction of opposing forces. Having full and rich meaning all its own; and only being what it is believed to be by each.

How some thing in us reaches out through our whole; and, connects with all that is on the horizon is a determined search we set ourselves out on—all of our days. Often we do not know we are venturing. The mystery of that place and this, keep us ever pushing onward to find a resolution to some deeply hidden question that lurks in the recesses of our “me.” The question about identity. And, since identity is always happening in space and in time, it seeks to know the worth of them as well. Am I that? Is that me? Is there correlation? Does now, or then have sway on me?

These are the genuine human tools that seek to aid us in finding consciousness and “I-ness” in our short journey on this dirt. These poems try a bit to figure all of this out. They are yours.