hatred of chaos
falsenesses of memory
bridges of delight

Remembering also
the memories of these things, and the deep magic
wrought upon them by the falsenesses of memory:
the shell become a jewel, the sand become a desert,
the waves become the ineluctable hatred of chaos,
the weeds and mosses become as bridges of delight
wonderfully windswept, archangelically designed,
fairylifted and void-defying, between
one fever of darkness and the next; whereover
nimbly I send my messengers, and they return, swiftly,
with that fantastic nonsense which feeds the soul.

From Landscape West of Eden as printed in Selected Poems by Conrad Aiken, Oxford University Press. 1961.

In just this one fragment of the 44 page poem Landscape West of Eden, Conrad Aiken uses grand words and phrases like:

memories of these things
deep magic wrought upon them
falsenesses of memory
the shell become a jewel
the sand become a desert
the waves become the ineluctable hatred of chaos
the weeds and mosses become as bridges of delight
wonderfully windswept
archangelically designed
fairylifted and void-defying

All combining into fantastic nonsense which feeds the soul.

In the New York Times Review of the poem, written on May 5, 1935, Mr. C. G. Poore starts his review with, “WHEN Gertrude Stein became a national institution she incidentally gave readers courage to say they could not understand what they were reading. The custom has spread.“

But Mr. Poore closes his review with these words: “We admire Mr. Aiken’s Integrity, but we just do not understand what he is talking about. The fault is with us; poems about angels obviously should not look for understanding to earthly creatures.”

The fault is with us.

Poems about angels obviously should not look for understanding to earthly creatures.

Is that not fabulous?

regardless of wars
rumours of wars and the rise
and fall of nations

The Ojibways are probably the most numerous of the tribes that roam the vast Hinterland north of the fifty-first parallel; and regardless of wars, rumours of wars, and the rise and fall of nations, oblivious of the price of eggs, champagne, and razor blades, they wander the length and breadth of the land, which, with the one proviso of game being in plenty, is at once to them a kingdom and a paradise.

They overcome with apparent ease the almost insuperable difficulties incidental to a life in this land of violent struggle for existence.

By a process of elimination, the result of many generations of experience, they have arrived at a system of economy of effort, a reserving of power for emergencies, and an almost infallible skill in the detection of the weak points in Nature’s armour, that makes for the highest degree of efficiency.

From The Men of the Last Frontier by Grey Owl (Archibald Belaney) (1888-1938), Charles Scribners and Sons, New York, 1932.

What is the price of civilazation?

Take into regard of wars, rumours of wars …

the rise and fall of nations.

Pay attention to the price of eggs, champagne, and razor blades.

Stay in one place with the one proviso there is a Meijer or a Walmart filled with plenty.

This is at once to us, a kingdom and a paradise?

Something got lost in translation somewhere.

unfaltering faith
there is treasure, can find it
heart of every man

A calm and dispassionate recognition of the rights of the accused against the State, and even of convicted criminals against the State … a desire and eagerness to rehabilitate in the world of industry all those who have paid their dues in the hard coinage of punishment … and an unfaltering faith that there is a treasure, if you can only find it, in the heart of every man—these are the symbols which in the treatment of crime and criminals mark and measure the stored-up strength of a nation, and are the sign and proof of the living virtue in it.

The Home Secretary Winston Churchill speech at the house of commons in July 20th 1910 on treatment of crime and criminals

… an unfaltering faith that there is a treasure,

if you can only find it,

in the heart of every man.

Mr. Churchill was speaking on the subject of prison and prison reform.

I put this to our border.

There was this time when this country had this big statue with the words:

… Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!

An unfaltering faith that there is a treasure, if you can only find it, in the heart of every man.

There was this time when …

we must hate ourselves
the way we seek heroes from
the worst among us

Reading the interesting Guest Opinion Essay, The Unabomber, Me and the Poisoned Myth of the American West by Maxim Loskutoff (NYT June 9, 2024), a fiction writer whose novel “Old King” is about Ted Kaczynski and the American West, I was stopped cold by his line, We must hate ourselves, I thought, reading their posts, for the way we seek heroes from the worst among us.

Boy HOWDY but look at the ballots of the elections coming up.

If there is any agreement is that few people like the choices.

Yet we choose those who we must choose from.

We must hate ourselves for the way we seek heroes from the worst among us.

We are in charge here if only we would act like it.

Mr. Loskutoff writes, “We are all fed myths about our homes, whether it’s Montana as the last best place to hide or New York City as the cultural capital of the world.

But these are just stories, often relying on outliers like Mr. Kaczynski.

Our hometowns are far more complex than these mythologies, but seeing them as they really are — and loving them in all their tragic beauty — leads us away from destruction and isolation, to community and stewardship, a form of deeper purpose.”

As Mr. Lincoln once said, “We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country.”

Until that happens, we must hate ourselves for the way we seek heroes from the worst among us.

Again repeating Mr. Loskutoff:

Our hometowns are far more complex than these mythologies,

but seeing them as they really are —

and loving them in all their tragic beauty —

leads us away from destruction and isolation,

to community and stewardship,

a form of deeper purpose.