A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake, to luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not "work the lake out." It is an experience beyond thought. (John Keats, Bright Star)I love the sensation of being fully immersed in literature. The feeling of breathing poetry. Of sliding between words. Of existing in spaces, in the pauses created by punctuation. Of rolling a word around in my mouth to see how it tastes. Of weighing a turn of phrase in my hands, allowing my fingers to brush against the edges of words, to catch on the corners and glide along the curves. I love it when I feel as if my pores ooze literature. When my first response to any situation, anything I am told, is to quote a poem or cite a novel. This is when I feel most alive. This is when I feel the most like me.
Showing posts with label lake. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lake. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Immersion
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Death by Cold

Winter Landscape, with Rooks
Sylvia Plath
Water in the millrace, through a sluice of stone,
plunges headlong into that black pond
where, absurd and out-of-season, a single swan
floats caste as snow, taunting the clouded mind
which hungers to haul the white reflection down.
The austere sun descends above the fen,
an orange cyclops-eye, scorning to look
longer on this landscape of chagrin;
feathered dark in thought, I stalk like a rook,
brooding as the winter night comes on.
Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice
as is your image in my eye dry frost
glazes the window of my hurt; what solace
can be struck from rock to make heart's waste
grow green again? Who'd walk in this bleak place?
It is May 29th and it is snowing. I just love Alberta weather (note the intense sarcasm). I am a naturally chilly person most of the time and my parents' house isn't exactly the warmest place in the world so I have been freezing cold all day. I'm decently warm right now because I am sitting on my bed wrapped in a fuzzy blanket with my laptop producing heat. I've basically been drinking tea non-stop all day in an effort to stay warm. My hands are still cold though. The snow/rain combo thing and the cold have made me kind of...I don't know exactly how to describe it. I just get into my own head and things become kind of...off. It's kind of like being upset about something without knowing what you are upset about. If you've lived with me you probably have witnessed these moods multiple times and know what I'm talking about. Some days I just get into this mental space and can't quite pull myself out. Now this isn't always a problem, but when it is compounded by bad weather or something not working out or tons of stress or something, it can become downright unpleasant, especially for those around me. Anyway, that is kind of the head space I am in today. Whenever I get like this I have the urge to read Sylvia Plath. I know that may be disturbing for some people, but honestly it isn't. She just has an incredible ability to capture raw and intense emotions in words. So, I picked up my trusty copy of The Collected Poems: Sylvia Plath, which I hunted for for quite a long time before finally finding a copy in Munro's in Victoria (a GLORIOUS bookstore), and "Winter Landscape, with Rooks" seemed appropriate for today's weather and my mental state. I love the line "Last summer's reeds are all engraved in ice". There is something about it that seems appropriate for a May snowstorm. And "feathered dark in thought" seems to capture the brooding quality of my state of mind right now.
I took this picture on choir tour a couple of years ago. We stopped in Waterton, but because it was still the end of April it was still cold enough for there to be some snow around and the lake to be all icy. These were the sweet ice formations along the shoreline. I think they are pretty awesome.
I hope all of you who are Albertans are staying warm in this freaky weather!
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
La belle dame sans merci





La belle dame sans merci
John Keats
O what can ail thee knight at arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake
And no birds sing!
O what can ail thee knight at arms,
So haggard and so woe begone?
The squirrel's granary is full
And the harvest's done.
I see a lilly on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew,
And on they cheeks a fading rose
Fast Withereth too -
I met a Lady in the Meads
Full beautiful, a faery's child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light
And her eyes were wild -
I made a Garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant Zone
She look'd at me as she did love
And made sweat moan -
I set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song -
She found me roots of relish sweet
And honey wild and manna dew,
And sure in language strange she said
I love thee true -
She took me to her elfin grot
And there she wept and sigh'd full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep
And there I dream'd - Ah! Woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and Princes too,
Pale warriors, death pale were they all;
They cried 'La bell dame sans merci
Thee hath in thrall.'
I saw their starv'd lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here
On the cold hill's side.
And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering;
Though the sedge is wither'd from the Lake
And no birds sing.
Has anyone else seen the movie Bright Star? I absolutely adore it, and have probably mentioned it on here before. The film tells the story of John Keats and Fanny Brawne and is a poignant and beautiful love story. After I first watched it I decided that I could happily fall in love with a poet. Now, I love poetry. There is something wonderful about luxuriating in a wonderful poem. You have to read poetry slowly, at least I find that the poetry I enjoy the most has to be read slowly. You have to drink it in in sips, not gulps. I haven't always loved poetry though. In fact, I almost used transfer credits to allow me to skip out on the second half of intro English (which, at King's, focuses on poetry and drama). However, I decided that I might as well take it just in case I decided to choose English as my major. That class was absolutely wonderful, and it made me truly fall in love with poetry. I wrote my first paper that semester on Walt Whitman's "To a Locomotive in Winter" and Emily Dickinson's "I like to see it lap the miles" and suddenly discovered how much I loved delving into a poem, looking at the words and turns of phrase and poetic devices. I know that not everyone shares this opinion; in fact, most of the people I know are of the "poetry is a waste of time" school of thought. However, thanks to a wonderful professor, who, incidentally, also is the person who convinced me to go into English studies, I have a profound enjoyment of poetry. Despite this love of poetry, I have never really been able to appreciate the Romantics. I don't know what it is. Perhaps it is simply because I have read the same poems over and over and over again and since I didn't love them in the first place they have come to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. So I was quite suprised when I finished watching Bright Star and emerged with a deep desire to read John Keats. Having the incomparable voice of Ben Whishaw reading the poems in the film (since he plays Keats) probably had something to do with it, but it is more than that. I bought the Complete Poems of John Keats and dearly love them. They are fantastical and dream-like, beautiful, thoughtful...in short, they are exactly the kind of poetry that one must drink in ever so slowly. And for that, they are wonderful.
One of the reasons I turn to poetry is to recharge my artistic batteries. Whenever I am feeling a bit uninspired or like I might want to take an office job after my undergrad rather than pursuing my masters I automatically turn to music and literature. I soak myself in art, particularly words. Poetry reminds me why I love words so much. This artistic "bath" is always enough for me to kick-start my own creativity. It makes me want to write, or photograph, or draw, or sing, or play piano, anything creative will do. That's one of the reasons I turned to a poem for today's post. Although, I had a lovely weekend filled with birthday celebrations for a dear friend, a lazy, rainy Sunday reading Mansfield Park and The Sound and the Fury while drinking tea, and an evening with my best friend who I haven't seen in ages, the idea of blogging and being creative was almost overwhelming. So, today I resolved to post something. And not just something mediocre, but something that I could feel truly satisfied with. Thus, I turned to poetry and music to inspire me...and voila! a beautiful (if I do say so myself) blog post.
In order to make up for my absence the past few days, I bring you a lovely, long post today. These pictures seem to capture the fantastical, dream-like quality of the poem I've paired them with. First up we have an image from Jasper, the day that my roommates and I drove out there for a picnic (I've posted images from that trip here and here). I did absolutely nothing to this picture editing-wise, that is just how the light was in that little nook of the trail. Absolute perfection. Next is an image from several years ago on a youth retreat at Camp Nakamun. It was early October so the trees were bare and there was just a grey quality to everything. I (obviously) made the image black and white and then I gave it a bit of a "glow" to give it the dream-like quality called for in this set of images. The third image is once again from our Jasper trip. The original image is in color and the blue sky is really intense, but because it was so shady in the forest the trees are all dark and shadowy. I felt like making it black and white gave it an almost eerie quality that was suited to the fantastical nature of this poem. Pretty much the same story goes for the next image as well. Finally, we have an image from a walk I took with a couple friends through the Edmonton River Valley in the fall of 2007. It was a really gorgeous day. This shadowy bit of a creek (no that is not the North Saskatchewan River) seemed perfect for this post. I upped the color saturation a bit just to intensify the dreaminess of it that much more. There you have it, a bona fide photography blog post!
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Gorgeous

The past couple days have been positively beautiful out. It is quite delightful actually. Unfortunately, I was inside all day studying for finals. Or rather, attempting to study since my actual productivity was questionable to say the least. Oh well. That is how it goes. At least there was sunshine streaming in and fresh air rushing in the open window.
I took this picture on a similarly beautiful day, a couple summers ago on the August long weekend. Cheryl and I went for a walk around her parent's house and ended up sitting by this little manmade lake thing as the sun was setting. It was a really lovely moment.
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