30 Days of Thanks: The Power of the Unknown

We are going to revisit Octavio Paz tonight, but first I want to tell you something about my grandfather.  On my mom's side.

My Grandpa Sandy was a brilliant man--an inventor, a philosopher, an environmentalist.  As a child, I asked him many questions.  Often he answered.  Just as often, he would look down, shrug his shoulders, and say, "I don't know."  He taught me that there is truth in not knowing, not shame.

Culture compels us to have an answer.  Culture compels us to be correct.  These compulsions stand in contrast to the realities of daily life--I would add stark contrast to the large questions we face as a society.

Why does poetry intimidate us?  Because we want so badly to be right.  To have a metaphorical box, and to pack our life experiences neatly into it.  To have our favorite sports team, or the guy we voted for, win.  To know the exact value of an item at the market.  To understand why someone we love must die.  To force every complex moment into simplicity. 

To have.  To know.  To force.  To understand.  These are strong concepts, and are the cravings of a strong people.  Yet our lives are not to be that way, and we must strive--if not struggle--to embrace that.

Poetry conforms to none of these desires, yet challenges us to open ourselves to the possibility that two people can read the exact same poem, and it can have an absurdly different meaning to each.

The Street

A long and silent street.
I walk in blackness and I stumble and fall
and rise, and I walk blind, my feet
stepping on silent stones and dry leaves.
Someone behind me also stepping on stones, leaves:
if I slow down, he slows;
if I run, he runs.  I turn: nobody.
Everything dark and doorless.
Turning and turning among these corners
which lead forever to the street
where nobody waits for, nobody follows me,
where I pursue a man who stumbles
and rises and says when he sees me: nobody.

-Octavio Paz, Puerta Condenada, translated by Muriel Rukeyser

What do I know in this moment?  What do I have, do I force, do I understand?  It is dark, and the stars are ablaze.  I hear the waves.  The breeze lifts my hair, there is a sea lion barking her frustration at the tuna in the nets, just out of her reach.  Dew is already dripping from the rooftop.  The man I love--who I have always loved, even before I knew him--is asleep beyond the glass of the door behind my patio seat.  On the surface, these are precious few things. 

Yet, take heed--for in truth, these things are everything.  Whether I choose to pause and notice or not. 

Do not be afraid to not know yourself, others, or the world.  Be not afraid of your shadow.

With baby Apolo.  xoxo