27 January 2007
At one time...
At one time, I imagine, the prostitute acted as the priest, hearing confessions. (And the courtezan confessed and cleared the consciences of the cardinals...) To whom do people now confess? Perhaps I posed the wrong question: where --and when--do we not confess and prattle on?
15 January 2007
Spannungsbogen
Spannungsbogen
In the world that is Frank Herbert's Dune there are, to name a few, the ruthless Herkonnen, the feminine Bene Gesserits, the Arrakeens--and the Fremen.
Now, the Fremen have a quality called spannungsbogen. A word for "the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing." A kind of restraint or discipline. An anti-impulse...
But to coin such a word speaks to a cultural value. Do we have such a word in English for this kind of self-control?
In the world that is Frank Herbert's Dune there are, to name a few, the ruthless Herkonnen, the feminine Bene Gesserits, the Arrakeens--and the Fremen.
Now, the Fremen have a quality called spannungsbogen. A word for "the self-imposed delay between desire for a thing and the act of reaching out to grasp that thing." A kind of restraint or discipline. An anti-impulse...
But to coin such a word speaks to a cultural value. Do we have such a word in English for this kind of self-control?
12 January 2007
Moi et les Québecois: Thoughts from the Thruway
Friday, January 12, 2007
There's nothing like a good drive that can, in one stretch, quell new term anxieties or embrace a profound solitude. And, while I mean no disrespect to the Garden State Parkway (we need it, we use it…), I do not consider it the kind of driving that clears the head. But, it is the connective tissue to the New York State Thruway, which, as I've recently discovered, can do the job.
Perhaps driving suggests flight, and escapism, but for me, it ensures focus. For while driving I cannot create distractions, i.e. browsing on Amazon.com, TNT ruruns, or a cleaning fix. Believe me you—I am easily distracted and could reign as Queen of Procrastination. And my job requires a lot of take-home prepping and planning—to think without interruptions or distractions (or "invented tasks", a.k.a. procrastinating). So, I found that while heading north on 87 my thoughts could see themselves through a logical, sequential process. They were much like the white dots that separated my lane from the Québecois trucker's lane: thoughts could be consistent and sequential--a lot like lane dividers. (And there are the orange lines that you must pertly observe lest you hit those alarming butt-massaging grooves! )
When I lived out West, I loved driving through southern Colorado to New Mexico, or westward into Utah. And we, my friends and I, never thought twice about driving 300+ miles for the weekend. Or even alone. I must admit that I never did care much for those high altitude serpentine climbs into ski country. I'm an open plains-big sky driver, if such a category existed. Don't get me wrong, I love the mountains, but with the mountains came the bumper-to-bumper weekend forays. There was one road in and one road out.
But the plains? There is always a horizon. High clouds were indulgences. The sighting of hawks and kestrels…To be able to see out...
We adapt. I've adapted to--and developed affection for--my environment. I can still see hawks in the Catskills. And, while these parts are heavily forested--you're enclosed and enveloped, I feel less claustrophobic than I did 4 years ago…
And if I want to see the horizon now, I just drive to the sea...
There's nothing like a good drive that can, in one stretch, quell new term anxieties or embrace a profound solitude. And, while I mean no disrespect to the Garden State Parkway (we need it, we use it…), I do not consider it the kind of driving that clears the head. But, it is the connective tissue to the New York State Thruway, which, as I've recently discovered, can do the job.
Perhaps driving suggests flight, and escapism, but for me, it ensures focus. For while driving I cannot create distractions, i.e. browsing on Amazon.com, TNT ruruns, or a cleaning fix. Believe me you—I am easily distracted and could reign as Queen of Procrastination. And my job requires a lot of take-home prepping and planning—to think without interruptions or distractions (or "invented tasks", a.k.a. procrastinating). So, I found that while heading north on 87 my thoughts could see themselves through a logical, sequential process. They were much like the white dots that separated my lane from the Québecois trucker's lane: thoughts could be consistent and sequential--a lot like lane dividers. (And there are the orange lines that you must pertly observe lest you hit those alarming butt-massaging grooves! )
When I lived out West, I loved driving through southern Colorado to New Mexico, or westward into Utah. And we, my friends and I, never thought twice about driving 300+ miles for the weekend. Or even alone. I must admit that I never did care much for those high altitude serpentine climbs into ski country. I'm an open plains-big sky driver, if such a category existed. Don't get me wrong, I love the mountains, but with the mountains came the bumper-to-bumper weekend forays. There was one road in and one road out.
But the plains? There is always a horizon. High clouds were indulgences. The sighting of hawks and kestrels…To be able to see out...
We adapt. I've adapted to--and developed affection for--my environment. I can still see hawks in the Catskills. And, while these parts are heavily forested--you're enclosed and enveloped, I feel less claustrophobic than I did 4 years ago…
And if I want to see the horizon now, I just drive to the sea...
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