A Responsibility to Awe

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A Responsibility to Awe Page 5

by Rebecca Elson


  chooses its value when it is named. This is an effect of the mind.

  Logic is to language as geometry is to the universe.

  The reason for something is not in the state from which it emerged,

  but in the end it serves.

  There is a great rift between the self and the external world. The

  self is not part of the universe to be explained.

  ...

  Dark Matter

  Seeing, like that, only purple

  You would understand your world

  From a few iris,

  A few bolts of silk,

  And emptiness.

  And knowing the gravity of iris

  You might postulate stems,

  Though green were unimaginable

  And seeing the silk fall in folds,

  A body, though flesh could not be thought.

  And speaking in purple

  You might acknowledge still

  The universe outside of sound.

  ...

  23? October (Sunday)

  The collapse of the Wave Function as We Know It

  I suppose it occurs to everyone eventually

  That simply by considering the beginning of everything,

  The wave function of the Universe

  We must whip it into such a state

  (Our thinking being inescapably of us

  And more irresistible than we imagine)

  That it collapses, finally into the unique heap

  From which we inevitably and necessarily

  Have already emerged

  ...

  31 October Problems in Cosmology

  Origins

  As a flower might invent

  Some memory of the smooth

  Husk of seedhood

  So we imagine seeds of galaxies

  Shaken in the dark soil soul of space

  In the unconscious Universe

  Let there be substance

  Moving neither mass nor light

  Sufficient to flatten space

  And curb infinity

  And close itself in one

  ....

  A summary of contemporary cosmology

  ...

  We conceive ourselves to inhabit no special part of a Universe which has a kind of geometry, which may be infinite, which is everywhere the same, thinly spread substance some of which has collapsed into points of mass which throw off light, much as abstractions collapse into words. The vast, the dark, the unconscious universe, which is most of it, we cannot see but we suspect its presence from the way it makes things move. And everything is flying away from everything as space itself expands outward from a universal point of origin (which is by definition everywhere) in an explosion which could have been silent, there being no outside medium to transmit sound, and no listener. (Though we cannot know this, we imagine our universe to have hatched like a shark from a solitary, unguarded egg, unobserved in an ocean which we are not supposed to imagine, but cannot help it.) And since light travels at a constant speed, we can see all of this, like a memory, or think we can, by looking deep into space. We have always invented the universe in our image, animistic, ecclesiastical, mechanised, anthropic. We live now in the epoch of self-recognition. We are the dawning of the universe upon itself.

  We observe the universe, predict it, calculate it, expose it to rationality, we ask it carefully phrased questions. We ask the reason for the universe, and look for the answer in the state from which it came, not the end it serves …

  1994

  1 January [Scanno]

  Head full of languages

  Auguries

  A shrouded mountain, rain

  Return to Frattura Vecchia

  House full of noise and smoke

  Filling the mind

  Sucking at the stuff of the mind

  You might run out into a wet field

  Or up a plane of white snow

  Wind whipping spindrift from the ridge

  But no, we sit, we eat, we sleep

  We are reduced to the most basic

  Of what is human

  In comfort still, and discomfort

  From what suffocates

  We walk in the dark down roads

  The headlights of cars

  And the lights of houses spilt in the lake

  And last night eruptions of sound

  Eruptions of light from the cups of houses

  For the sake of another voyage, and the sun.

  Does the earth feel itself to have reached

  Again the same point in space?

  There is no reaching a point in space.

  Nothing stays the same.

  Just the slow falling of snow

  On the eve of anniversaries

  Six months since a hot afternoon

  Coming like the Earth to the same

  Point in space

  And finding a different season

  And different people

  How basic are our needs

  How we come and go to a table of meat

  And warm ourselves at the flames

  Of burning trees.

  We destroy, we destroy

  We destroy to live

  We live to destroy

  A school of fish

  A pair of hens

  A pair of rabbits

  A tree with its moss

  Ourselves

  Consumed

  And the lake boiling with lights

  No more dark silence

  No more peace

  On the television, people dying

  No answers

  Can we believe ourselves

  To be all one?

  Faces of crystal casting

  The same light

  Blowing bubbles in the dark

  On the first day of another year

  Numbered from the birth

  Of this man who hangs

  In effigy above our bed

  These are the connections of things

  The way they make signs

  The way they speak

  The way we discover the forms

  Of bodies and faces and even birds

  In the soft substance of a bone

  Osso di seppia e suo spirito

  To ask forgiveness for the destruction

  To leave something behind

  Touched by the urge to create

  To climb high white mountains

  To breathe, to sleep

  To dream of flight

  To dream

  ...

  9 February

  Faint blue galaxies

  Fainter and fainter like candles,

  Like fireflies in meadows

  Blinking on, and extinguishing themselves

  Morphological

  Dreaming of a certain galaxy

  A certain juxtaposition, galaxy with starburst

  With companion

  Star with long spikes

  Ghost of a star

  Itemised, categorised

  All in a day’s work

  Amid intercontinental communiqués

  Barging with our spyglass

  Into this, someone’s private piece of space

  (And these handsome cats

  Coming and going up and down the garden)

  Like loud tourists

  Would you look at that, spectacular

  There’s a beautiful galaxy in the corner of the field

  With a companion

  Caught in some private act

  Why do we delight so in detail

  Not just galaxies, but a storm of galaxies

  Like snowflakes in the vortex of a streetlamp

  Don’t ask, just look, don’t look

  Saying how distant we believe these things to be

  1 March [St Louis Airport, Departure Lounge]

  Knowing that you have not always

  Looked beautiful in public

  Thoughts on applying for an American visa:

  How could they dare erect such a
structure

  Surmounted by a great bronze bird of prey

  And ask you to wait outside the door

  With arrogance and inhumility

  Protecting their greed

  With a show of strength,

  Of rigidity, like a game of soldiers

  They take themselves so seriously

  Asking you to wait outside the door

  No bench, only the wet stone steps

  And the grey London sky

  And the great bird of prey

  Arriving in St Louis

  And to think, this morning we were by the low Thames,

  The seagulls feeding on its banks

  We were by white rows of houses

  With wrought railings

  Where people come & go closing the door quietly

  Going to work with discrete steps

  And here, fluorescence, everything a strange shade

  And named with self-consciousness

  As if nothing could take it away

  The precious flight of quick departures

  From the realities of this earth

  It is all for us, this is how it must be done

  The neon bud sign and the television

  And the cocktail bar

  And the lights probe into the deepest

  Layers of your face, your lines,

  Your weary colour-skewed skin

  And you remind yourself

  You have not always

  Looked beautiful in public.

  ...

  10? April [Palo Alto]

  Weeks pass in the land of freeways, malls

  Temperance of beach

  And the handsome gulls with their weightlessness The handsome, weightless gulls

  Baby Nora comes and goes in dreams

  A presence in the bright air

  We wake each morning to a blue sky

  This was March:

  Slow walking down suburban streets

  In an unaccustomed heat

  Goose bumps from a new sun

  Smell of pine, of eucalyptus

  And nausea, another chicken roasting

  And saying this will pass,

  This too will pass

  All of this will pass

  ....

  Five steps to a used car:

  1. A fat blond guy in thongs

  Locked the keys in the Honda Accord

  Living with his mother, ulcers, you know

  A bit much really

  Small box by the freeway

  Left at the Seven Eleven, nowhere

  Left the lights on, ran the battery flat

  Big swaying boat of a car

  No good sign

  2. Al the live butcher selling his Capri

  Low, white, spoky hubcaps

  Blue inside and slung back

  And leaking oil expensively

  Says the Turkish mechanic

  Trying to sell us his own Plymouth Colt

  Instead

  And the Hispanics like these cars

  They say.

  3. A VW bug from a fat

  Lady whose mother

  In law only drove it

  To the mall

  4. A Hyundai from a sincere

  Man-and-son in a too

  Clean shop/garage in a

  Place that looks like nowhere

  He looks at you wide-eyed

  Blue eyed wishing well

  Every possible aspect of life.

  5. A Mazda, from a Romanian

  Immigrant with a sleepy

  Daughter, in a complex

  In San José, at least a

  Meat market full of orientals,

  A good price.

  18 April [Santa Cruz]

  Dark art of life

  Planting seeds, future harvests

  The body numbs the mind

  So much utopian

  Climbing the high hill

  Fog on the bay below

  A boy in the high grass, drumming

  What don’t see [sic] is old people

  Struggling, so much attention

  To the blind dull stuff of happiness

  And what is beyond, righteousness

  And bureaucracy and hygiene

  A bit unmoved these days

  Contented in an impermanent way

  Waiting for the body to repair

  Sometimes you wonder if you

  Shouldn’t push harder, faster,

  Or not push at all, just let.

  Nothing much springs from this

  Moist earth of utopia

  This abundance of opportunity

  And all the contented people

  Wandering the streets and beaches

  And the dolphins swimming up and down

  And everything highlighted,

  Drawing attention to itself

  And people overdoing causes

  Which don’t concern them,

  Have already been done

  Singing old songs only

  Or songs which sound old

  Incriminating past heroes,

  Procreating, too easy life

  Under a hot sun,

  Boy in the grass

  Beating a drum

  Looking out over the bay

  The fog, the blue,

  The harp of Monterey.

  What image comes to mind

  In the grey, in the blue

  Weightless sky small bird

  Humming at the flowers of the

  Lemon tree so close you could

  Grab him out of the buzzing air

  Long legged wave birds

  In the surf edge

  Improbable legs running

  And elegant beaks probing quickly

  In the foam

  How the water goes away

  Into the sand inevitably

  What is this part of life

  Floating in a California house

  Going to the beach

  Sleeping weightless, floating

  Bumping into things, but not hard

  Forgot the stars, which are no closer

  Look at the earth

  Nature by day

  Cities by night

  All the interstates of our earth

  And the continents rimmed

  In the temperate zones

  With life

  And even here on Earth

  *We sleep in a kind of weightlessness

  Bumping gently against the stuff of dreams

  Space walkers

  And one small screw alone

  In orbit, in freefall

  And who knows, eventually

  It may fall through the atmosphere

  Glowing for a moment

  *And someone, somewhere

  *May wish on the small screw

  That got away

  For such is the stuff of shooting stars

  ...

  7 May

  How to poeticise the computer terminal

  How science is done

  One night, bumping against a kind of subjectivity

  Like this: first an airport, departure lounge

  Then a tram with naked women,

  Pale, round fleshed, some of them wounded

  Then a land where whatever you imagine happens

  First, invasions, then a bolted door

  Another bolt, and another, each an act of concentration

  Knowing you are creating the enemy from your own terror

  And that this is hell, the land of subjectivity

  And that dreams are not things that arrange themselves

  But rather, spaces that exist, like rooms, inside your mind

  That you can drop into, and if you have been there before

  You know where the doors are

  So, grabbing three small bags of seeds

  And taking off my sandals

  I began to run, down and down the spiral staircase

  And out onto the other plane

  Of prepared beds

  Hi
gh above the ground.

  ...

  Acts of Science

  What we mostly do is neither so noble nor so difficult,

  Making mechanical reductions of received light,

  Our daily efforts rising like a dry noise,

  Like so many frogs on a summer night

  Picking apart the density of space

  To discover, eventually, our own purpose:

  More continuance than curiosity.

  Always, we find ourselves at the divergence

  Of two paths, travelling out.

  Otherwise, our questions

  Would already have been answered.

  ...

  10 June

  Can cosmology soothe the soul?

  Does cosmology comfort the soul?

  Two dogs running in the surf

  A seal plunges from a rock

  The surf never resting

  A deep cave, not even shadows

  Heaps of dark weed

  A lost sweater

  How the waves come in fingers

  Playing the sand

  ...

  20 June

  Sunlight in a bamboo forest

  And water, and quiet

  Slow in the making these days

  Climbing hills, the grass dry now

  The sky blue

  A long snake lying across the path

  Moving as if unseen

  How little time it takes them

  To reclaim this hill

  To the snake, only grass

  No view of the bay, and the white boats

  Which have become our familiars

  And the air cool like spring

  And perfect in a way.

  ...

  28 June

  NYT 26 April 1994

  The quest begun by philosophers in ancient Greece to understand the nature of matter may have ended in Batavia III, with the discovery of evidence for the top quark, the last of twelve subatomic building blocks now believed to constitute all of the material world ...

  The Twelfth Quark

  Wandering the shore of inquiry,

  Of faith in the irreducible,

  We come upon a twelfth footprint,

  Barely legible,

  And feel our theories close upon themselves,

  And we sit down and announce,

 

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