Aaron's post below brought to mind two things. The first is a series which I've been watching lately by BBC called Planet Earth. It is perhaps a mix between a nature documentary, a travel show, a poem, and a great work of art. It reflects the vastness of our universe and the wonders of our planet. The most striking aspect, however, is that the simplest scenes give you a deep awe and joy. Whether it be an African Elephant roaming miles to an oasis, the sea cresting on the Antarctica coast, or a antelope escaping, it is a series worth watching.The second is a poem which I would like to share with you. It is one of my favorites because it describes so aptly this wanderlust or the deep seeded desire to see beauty in unknown places.
Tell Me a Story
by Robert Penn Warren
[ A ]Long ago, in Kentucky, I, a boy, stood
By a dirt road, in first dark, and heard
The great geese hoot northward.
I could not see them, there being no moon
And the stars sparse. I heard them.
I did not know what was happening in my heart.
It was the season before the elderberry blooms,
Therefore they were going north.
The sound was passing northward.
[ B ]Tell me a story.
In this century, and moment, of mania,
Tell me a story.
Make it a story of great distances, and starlight.
The name of the story will be Time,
But you must not pronounce its name.
Tell me a story of deep delight.
3 comments:
As much as I've enjoyed traveling myself, and as much as I've learned from it, I must say that I think that many of us are prone to think that travel is some sort of panacea for our ignorance and other personal maladies. Sometimes we expect some sort of spiritual high from it but are disappointed when the high evaporates. Other times we presume we are so cultured because we have "seen the world," even though we have not understood a thing we have seen.
The medicine we really need--on occasions--is a good strong dose of German pessimism, as contained in Gottfried Benn's poem "Reisen" (Traveling).
I'll translate it later if I have time, but the rough gist of this poem is that you can escape your home but you can't escape yourself.
Gottfried Benn
REISEN
Meinen Sie Zürich zum Beispiel
sei eine tiefere Stadt,
wo man Wunder und Weihen
immer als Inhalt hat?
Meinen Sie, aus Habana,
weiß und hibiskusrot,
bräche ein ewiges Manna
für Ihre Wüstennot?
Bahnhofstraßen und Rueen,
Boulevards, Lidos, Laan –
selbst auf den Fifth Avenueen
fällt Sie die Leere an –
ach, vergeblich das Fahren!
Spät erst erfahren Sie sich:
bleiben und stille bewahren
das sich umgrenzende Ich.
How did you hear of Gottfried Benn? From a quick look at his works, he does seem very pessimistic. I wonder what he would have thought of the idea of travelling in "Parzival", or even in the "Odyssey", as a kind of defamiliarization that lets you look at yourself more clearly, from different perspectives.
I think I first heard of Benn when somebody gave me a collection of German poetry as a gift, and "Reisen" was in there.
In any event, Benn is very pessimistic. Actually, the more accurate word would probably be nihilistic.
I prefere his later poetry. His early poetry is, I suspect, sometimes meant to shock more than anything else. He also wrote mainly in confusing free verse early on. But, in his later poems he tended to write in more traditional forms, and while he retained the same basic attitude, he refined his sentiments somewhat. For instance, one of his main themes later in life was the fragility, and perhaps ineffectiveness, of beauty. "Reisen" is a good example of that theme.
As for your question on traveling, Therese, I think he would have said that looking at himself wasn't worth the trouble. I'll try to dig up a poem for you that points to that.
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