9/11 and the Sins of Division

Like the books that fall off shelves into my hands when I’m in book stores (and, yes, that really does happen to me), the universe has been sending me urgent messages about the nature of wholeness. Whether it is my feeling of being an integral part of creation while on a walk in the woods, or hearing someone talk at the grocery checkout stand about how great it is to see people come together after a tragedy, or the minister who talks about the admonition to “Love one another,” or the rabbi who indicates that the waters were divided, but this was pronounced “so,” not “good”… or a whole train of other messages, heard and unheard—well, I guess you could say I’ve had the spectrum of “together” and “apart” on my mind.

Everything that is a part of creation is one great, growing expanse. I’m being simplistic, I know; this is a huge generalization. But it is critical for the survival of at least our little terrestrial ball that we embrace this generalization. 

There are so many people out there who talk about “original sin” – usually to blame it on womankind. Adam and Eve… the snake and the apple… but, at the heart of that story is the dichotomy between need and togetherness, separation and alienation. Here’s the thing, if we are going to look to the origins of negativity, or perhaps better understood as its challenges, we must look to “creation” itself. And while I’m couching this meditation within a tiny bit of biblical exegesis, I don’t want to lose people who reject religion. All of us are part of the same story, whatever the story is; it is all a matter of perspective, and we are all peoples of myths, whether we attend temples of some sort, follow post-Enlightenment philosophies or post-modern existential/secular ways of thinking. As I tell my kids, “All words are built on all words; this is the basis of evolution and creativity.”

And so, I present this unorthodox set of notions, on this day of days, which commemorates a terrible event in our modern history.

In the mythological creation story from Genesis, Divine Entirety suddenly felt alone. This conscious awakening could be thought of as the primary point of alienation. Alone and in the dark. “Let there be light.” What does the light do, but make a sense of isolation all the more apparent?  

What to do? Well, what to do is to do, or to make. Identify raw materials from within the sea of integrity, and separate them out from one another; dividing materials into kinds makes them easier to use. (Just think of the world as an assembly project from IKEA or a never ending LEGO construct…) Once the materials are organized, they can be combined and recombined, molded into what you want, what you need. This is the essence of the creation story in Genesis. The world was created, then seen to have some flaws, and so was reinvented. Over time and many interventions, the thing that was created (and perhaps objectified) forgot its true origin, forgot its original language, forgot its purpose, forgot that it belonged to and had individuated from a singular source.

Seen in this light, it could be said that the primary flaw in creation was/is the act of division, and that this flaw is a natural aspect of ongoing creation, and the original commission of Creative Energy. Alienated Being desires intimate togetherness, and so creates more being(s) to accommodate that desire… and yet, the product can only promote more longing that leads to more separations, more creations… more divisions and differentiations, more exposures of an insuperable design flaw.

Divisions and differentiations, “devices and desires”, these are primary motivating energies, I should say. These primary motivating energies drive all of our actions in daily life, as well as our politics. In societies, we grow within community units that during our formative years comprise the whole world to us. Maturing into “adulthood,” our sense of what the whole world is pans outward. We discover that many of our decisions are made for us, and we sometimes find ourselves at the mercy of divided waters and diverted streams not of our own making. There are many distractions and manipulations controlling everything we do.

Truth is, all people are The People. All existing or created divisions between people are false, illusory divisions; at the most basic level, we all have the same needs. I have often stated, “That there are so many of us is for only one reason, so that we can help one another.” Certainly, this is the message of the Golden Rule, in all the different ways we see it expressed throughout world history. 

On September 11, 2001, we experienced what could be called a “Great Sin of Division and Discord” in the event and aftermath of terrorist actions that resulted from a magnitude of hate, death and destruction not seen before on our shores. This day continues to be a day of mourning and remembrance for the loss of so many lives, of so much potential for good, so much purpose. This day also continues to be an open, unhealed wound, perpetuated by systems of injustice that are politically motivated in order to consolidate money and power—actually to rob people of their personal assets and agency in order to feed the greed of powerbrokers.

Healing will not come until we acknowledge civil unity to be of primary importance. In the days following September 11, 2001, there was a sense of unity, even if tinged with anger over losses and against “foreigners,” and even through a profound sadness in the knowledge that it always seems to take a tragedy (flood, hurricane, war, forced migration, and the like) to bring people together— as if we cannot achieve unification by any other means. We huddled together in our grief.

Territorialism, nationalism, tribalism, ghettoization… these are all false constructs, designed to make people think in terms of scarcity and fear, rather than in more holistic terms, such as a recognition of abundance that is able to fulfill need wherever it exists. 

I’m grateful to Rabbi Jay LeVine for his discussion, yesterday, of a famous quote of the Prophet Amos, who states that feast days and hymns of praise and blood offerings are not the sacrifices desired by the Divine Source. Instead, “Let judgment run down as waters, and righteousness as a mighty stream.” Rabbi LeVine said of social action that we must think of ourselves as drops of water, which join in puddles and pools, and rise with the rain to flow with power and might. Likewise, there is no more powerful agency in the world than people joining to work together, to help one another. 

In short, I suggest that togetherness and inclusion are the balms to heal a broken world. Today, I hope for you and for me, for all of us, that September 11^th be remembered as a call for unity to the common goal of being for each other in goodness, truth and equity. 

Let all that who are joined toward such goals never be put asunder.

© 2018 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Todtnauberg by Paul Celan - a translation

Arnika, Augentrost, der Trunk aus dem Brunnen mit dem Sternwürfel drauf, in der Hütte, die in das Buch - wessen Namen nahms auf vor dem meinen?-, die in dies Buch geschriebene Zeile von einer Hoffnung, heute, auf eines Denkenden kommendes  Wort im Herzen, Waldwasen, uneingeebnet, Orchis und Orchis, einzeln, Krudes, später, im Fahren, deutlich, der uns fährt, der Mensch, der's mit anhört, die halb- beschrittenen Knüppel- pfade im Hochmoor, Feuchtes, viel. (Frankfurt, 1. August 1967) Arnica, eyebright, the drink from the well with the star-carved-die on it, into the Hut, into the book —whose name did it take before mine?— in this book, the penned line about a hope, today, for the thinker's coming word from the heart, forest peat-sward, uneven, orchid and orchid, singly, crudeness, after, while driving, explicit, he who drives us, the man, he also hears it, the half- trod log-paved trails on the high moor, cloy-clammy, very much.

English rendering © 2017 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

This poem by Celan, this very difficult poem, is a poem about place, about person, about the potential for healing and about hope unrealized. The brilliance of this piece is its economy (69 words), with at least half the words being each so pregnant with meaning that reams of commentary have been written on them.

I undertake my own variation at great risk—many, many more informed people than I have attempted to render this poem in English. My attempt is particular to me, owing to the presence and symbolism of plant life, and the fact that this poem is an entry in Celan’s internal diary.

This poem is a single-line sketch of the 1967 meeting Celan had with the philosopher Martin Heidegger at his Todtnauberg cabin retreat called “der Hütte.”

For just the barest background, Celan and Heidegger were engaged in intellectual dialogue between the years 1952 and 1970; Celan had a great deal of admiration for the work of the philosopher, discovering similar views on “truth” and “language”, “time” and “being”, and how “language speaks.” But Celan also had a great deal of ambivalence toward Heidegger because of his affiliation, collaboration with Nazism, while Rector of the University of Freiburg, for which he seemed reluctant to express public – or private – regret. For Celan, the German-speaking Jewish Romanian survivor of a labor camp, whose parents were deported and died at an internment camp, this “fact” of Heidegger’s complicity with Nazism created an insurmountable gulf, despite mutual admiration and shared dialogue, despite Heidegger’s support of Celan’s work.

Shortly after giving a Der Spiegel interview, and following Paul Celan’s July 24, 1967 lecture at Freiburg, Martin Heidegger took Celan to see his cabin at Todtnauberg. Celan signed the famous guestbook, the two men engaged in a brief conversation, followed by a short walk and a drive back to town.

Brevity is key. The poem is all too brief; in fact, it seems rushed.

The botanical surroundings, at first, breathe hope into the encounter. Arnica Montana, that bright yellow asterid, dots the landscape surrounding the cabin; so, too, eyebright, another asterid—this one’s flower is shaped like two lips. Arnica, a balm for bruises; eyebright has been used for centuries to quell eyestrain, to bring a return to visual clarity, or to relieve inflammations of the upper respiratory system. The only caveat is that eyebright grows as a semi-parasitic plant in conjunction with various grasses and other plants.

There is a tapped spring, right alongside the cabin, a source of life and renewal. A cube, carved in the shape of a star, adorns the top of the post that houses the waterspout that feeds water into a long stone trough. The poem doesn’t really indicate a cube, however—the word choice indicates that carved block is like a die. So, chance may be at work; the meeting may not be by chance, but the visitor may be taking a gamble. Even so, the scene continues to seem benign and full of potential. The visitor takes a refreshing drink of the pure mountain water.

And then he is brought into the cabin and invited to sign the guestbook, this book that has taken many names before his. Do the names of other Jews reside in these pages? The visitor cannot help but associate this taking of the name and documenting of his name; perhaps in two ways—on one side, in the Book of Life, juxtaposed on another side against the meticulous records Nazis kept with regard to atrocities and thefts against the Jewish people.

The visitor recorded this line in the guest book:

“Ins Hüttenbuch, mit dem Blick auf den Brunnenstern, mit einer Hoffnung auf ein Kommendes Wort im Herzen. Am 25. Juli 1967 / Paul Celan.”

“In the book in the cottage, with a view of the well star, with the hope of a word to come in the heart. July 25, 1967, Paul Celan.” 

In whose heart was the hope of a word, at that moment, I wonder?

In the poem, clearly the word is desired by the visitor of the thinker, the philosopher. This is a kind of pilgrimage.

But the poem does not even hint at discussion. The time in the hut seems but no time at all, and they are back outdoors, walking briefly over the damp ground, one orchid beside one orchid. The mountain orchid has been used medicinally for centuries in Europe to ease gastro-intestinal complaints; the Chinese use orchid medicine to improve eyesight and boost the immune system. More to the point, in this poem, the plants consist of a double bulb, very like testicles in shape; one German word for orchid is Knabenkraut (boy’s weed). Celan refers to orchids in other poems. I am not sure if Celan would have been aware of Zen symbolism of orchid as “poet” and “thinker”, but I will gamble on that. The poet walks alongside the thinker, but they are not joined as brothers; instead, they are just as contained and separate as they were when they arrived at this locus. Further, the ground is uneven, so they are not on the same footing, at the same level.

The pilgrimage fails to ford the chasm, despite the appearance of benignity and healing.

The visit further dispels any notion that such a transcendence of their differences can take place, with unfortunate words being uttered during the car ride back to town. It is unclear who uttered the words, but the visitor claims the driver to be a witness who can verify, leaving the implication towards the thinker, speaking without thinking, perhaps.

As they drive back to town, the occupants of the car pass by and through wooded areas, partially logged, with log covered foot trails, perhaps owing to the moistness of the landscape. The living pines stick up straight, the logs lining the path are likewise straight, like cudgels, in the soggy, peaty ground, dispelling the artifice of the semiotic presence of the benign, the healing, and the hopeful. Now, it seems as if the ground is swollen with rot; this meeting is no longer an idyll with an idol. The idol has proved himself not to be worthy – or, the pilgrim has not brought forth the purpose of his quest.

While others tend to translating “Wort im Herzen” into English more literally as “word in heart,” I chose “word from the heart” because I understand the point of the meeting to be a pilgrimage, in search of a means by which to transcend the gulf of differences into brotherhood, if the thinker could but offer a heartfelt word of some kind. Instead, the meeting seemed perfunctory, and whatever discussion exchanged is either insubstantial (at the cabin) or “crude” and “explicitly so” on the way back, in the car.

The encounter that inspired this poem did not end well; but the two men continued to communicate with one another, even if the communications were somewhat strained, until the end of Celan’s life.

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Despite this pessimistic reading (really the only choice available), I suggest that implicit in the poem is the endless potential for healing, if the all important (magical?) word will be spoken. The potential for the positive and the healing is always alive, always rich, always supported. The fact that healing and transcendence were not experienced here was a matter of choice, both on the part of the thinker and on the part of the poet. Place was not the primary factor, neither was the timing. Overloaded expectations may have been a factor, as well as courage or lack thereof, toward articulating a question. Certainly, an inner struggle and perhaps a crisis of identity factored into this outcome.

Perhaps I chose to explore this poem on this day is to suggest that brother/sisterhood is always a worthy goal, and always possible – if one can bridge the chasms of ethnicity, class, race, religion, criminal record, victimhood, guilt, shyness… loneliness. And this may be at some cost, but it should never be at the cost of personhood and self-value/self-respect.

Pristine water still wells from the spring; the arnica and eyebright, the orchids still grow and bloom; the turf and the trees provide fuel and shelter. We humans pass through this land of potential, and don’t often enough use the good of what is provided. We opt instead to avoid, or worse utter the unmindful word, and tend toward the destruction of what is good.

My thought and prayer for you, for me, for all of us this day: Positive potential greets you, everyday; don’t be afraid to engage it. Don't let unrealized hope close the book on your quest.

Song IX from Nine Songs: The Mountain Spirit - a translation

By Qu Yuan[i]

There, in the cleft of the mountain[ii],
see the Spirit[iii], arrayed in wild fig[iv] and dodder vine[v],
beaming her enchanting gaze and lovely smile.
“Don’t you find me beautiful?”
Pulled by a red leopard[vi], followed by wild cats,
her magnolia[vii] chariot draped with olive branches[viii],
she is arrayed in orchids[ix] belted with wild ginger[x].
“My love left me on the mountain to gather herbs.
Living deep in a bamboo[xi] grove, we never see the sky.
The way up the mountain was long and difficult;
it is too late to return.”
There, at her summit throne,
she stands, at her feet a wreath of clouds[xii].
As the sun sets, light likewise retires;
the east wind blows up, spreading a holy rain.
“I awaited the return of my love until it was too late to descend.
Now that winter is coming, what shall bloom to clothe me?
I gather lingzhi[xiii] from the mountainside,
where vines grow in a tangle over tumbled boulders.
Left by my inconstant lover, desolation bars my return home.
Though you did not come back, perhaps you gave me a thought.”
She, Mountain Spirit, fragrant with pollia[xiv] flowers,
drinks from a stone-basin spring[xv], shaded by pine and fir.
“You thought of me, my love, but you hesitated.”
Thunder drums, “tian tian”, rain darkens.
Monkeys cry, “jiu jiu”, and wild cats howl all night.
Winds whistle, “sa sa”, the trees moan “xiao xiao.”
“Longing for you, lost love, I sorrow and suffer.”

Translation © 2017 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen

Reading through an enormous number of translations of this poem, I was struck by two primary aspects, each of which seemed to leap out at me, but to be overlooked by most translators rendering the text into English: The gender of the Mountain Spirit and the presence of herbal/plant medicines that indicate, among other things, the passage of time within the overarching theme of abandonment.

As audacious as it will seem to some, I have undertaken to offer yet another rendering, with a very short commentary and notes. At the outset, I must stress that my intent is to offer more context for the English language reader; I don’t expect that my effort has necessarily resulted in beautiful poetry.

The impression I have is that the Mountain Spirit is most definitely a woman, abandoned by her lover in the wilderness of the mountain. Unfamiliar with the terrain, she nevertheless becomes a part of it, and what plant knowledge she brought with her sustains and clothes her throughout the year. She is a shaman, and a powerful one. Many of the plants she uses support longevity and virility. While this is a poem about alienation and separation, the obvious passage of time does not age this soul. She follows the seasons, yet is timeless. She rises to the summit, and is cut off from the cares of the world below. She may still bemoan the loss of her love, and nature seems to join in her emotions. Does she collude with the mountain to bring on a storm to match her mood?

I leave the transliterated Chinese syllables for the sounds. There are many doubled sounds throughout this poem, lending to the music of it. 

See my notes, below, for information about the medicinal properties of the plants mentioned in the poem.

I owe a debt of gratitude to the 2008 annotated translation of this poem by Feng Xin-ming in a simplified Chinese script version with annotations. I must  have dug around and found more than fifteen renderings of this poem, each with a slightly different perspective. None explored or referred to the medicinal aspect of the plant life.

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[i] Qu Yuan was a poet of the Warring States Period (467 BC - 221 BC) Qu Yuan is remembered as a patriotic poet, statesman, diplomat and reformer in ancient China. The traditional Dragon Boat Festival, held on the fifth day of the fifth lunar month commemorates his death by suicide. (As an aside, I happen to live in an island community that takes a great deal of interest in the Dragon Boat Festival.)  

[ii] Mountains are venerated in China, each has a resident god. In ancient times, it was believed the spirits of the dead lived in the mountains, and young girls were “married” to the mountain. Mountains create weather.

[iii] The gender of the Mountain Spirit is ambiguous. There is a general tendency, when translating this piece into English, toward conforming the text to either a Confucian or a shamanistic interpretation/convention. In either case, the emphasis is on creating a duality, yin/yang, between a god and goddess (perhaps mountain and river) or shaman and human. Most of the translations I have seen vary the gender of the speaker throughout the poem between male and female, artificially suggesting a conversation between two individuals. I have opted to have the reader be a participant-as-observer in the story the author tells; as such, I have the entity, to which I assign female gender, direct the spoken words to the reader. This may solve the ambiguity, while preserving the sense that there is interaction between two individuals. Not being a proper scholar of Asian poetry, I own the possibility that my approach may be problematical, if not downright incorrect.

[iv] 薜荔 bi` li`: ficus pumilis, a member of the fig family. Also known as creeping fig, throughout Asia, the fruit and leaves are galactagogue and tonic; they are used in cases of impotence, lumbago, rheumatism and anemia.

[v] 女萝 nv' luo': custcuta chinensis, the twining dodder herb. It is commonly used as an anti-aging agent, anti-inflammatory, pain reliever, and aphrodisiac.

[vi] Leopards are rare and elusive, so their appearance and disappearance is associated with changing seasons. In China, whereas lions are associated with the sun, leopards are associated with the moon.

[vii] 辛夷 xin­ yi': magnolia liliflora, the flowering magnolia shrub.  The flowers and unopened flower buds are analgesic, anodyne, carminative, febrifuge, sedative and tonic. The main effect of this herb is to constrict blood vessels in the nasal passages; it is most often taken internally to treat sinusitis, allergic rhinitis and catarrh. The flowers are harvested in the Spring, and can be used fresh or dried.

[viii] 桂 gui`: this is 桂花 gui` hua­ , osmanthus fragrans, the miniature olive shrub. In traditional Chinese medicine, osmanthus tea has been used to treat irregular menstruation. The blossoms are associated with the Chinese Mid-Autumn Festival. Osmanthus used as a flavor for wine, confections and teas, is symbolic of reunions.

[ix] 石兰 shi' lan': cymbidium virescens, an orchid.  Blooming in the Spring, this orchid is used in Korean folk medicine to stop bleeding and promote urination, as well as for skin issues, such as insect bites.

[x] 杜衡 du` heng': asarum forbesii, a pungent variety of wild ginger that grows in moist, shady forests and valleys at elevations below 3000 feet. In traditional Chinese medicine to relieve pain, induce fever, promote sweating, as a diuretic, and to lower blood pressure. Prolonged use of the plant gives the body a fragrant aroma.

[xi] In China, bamboo is symbolic of the summer season, simplicity, humility, flexibility, and integrity, equanimity. Bamboo is used in Chinese medicine to speed healing and reduce infections. Bamboo is also used for divination.

[xii] Clouds are a union of yin and yang, mean good fortune, suggest intercourse, and also hint at wu-shamanism.

[xiii] It is unclear whether this is “Three-Flowers” or “Thrice-Blooming” herb. The former does not suggest any reference that I can find, but various texts have suggested the latter. If that is the case, “Thrice-Blooming” is a fungus zhi, perhaps lingzhi or “spirit herb”, better known in the West as Reishi mushroom, revered in ancient China as a magic herb. I cannot verify this, but merely offer the possibility. This fungus is symbolic of longevity and immortality, and the name is mentioned in poems from the earlier Han and Wei periods. The character for ling is made of ideographs for rain, shaman, and praying, and zi speaks to its spiritual potency, and that it is used to prepare elixirs.

[xiv] 杜若 du` ruo`: pollia japonica, a herbaceous plant with longish leaves and white flowers. The rhizome of pollia japonica is used to influence lung, liver, kidney and bladder function, is sedative and carminative, and is used to treat colds and vertigo.

[xv] Springs are yin semantically connected to the concept “origin,” and associated with the moon and night. Water, in general, presents a paradox: One of the most powerful of nature’s forces, it is soft and yielding. Hence, the aphorism in Tao te Ching, “Weak overcomes strong; soft overcomes hard.”

The Right To Be Ugly

We live in a country that has many inalienable rights. Apparently, one of those rights is to be an ugly American.

People running live action video feed of another person's private activities. Woman destroys artwork because she thinks it demeans Jesus. Motorcycles and cars with tips welded on their mufflers, in order to drastically raise the decibel level and make your hair stand on end. Cars that block parking lot circulation so that their sole occupants can wait for someone to pull out of the parking slot closest to the entrance to the grocery store. Drivers who have their car stereo systems roaring at the highest volume and deepest bass rumble, so that everyone within a two block radius is forced to hear it. The garbage that is dumped on sidewalks, beaches and parks, sometimes within 8 feet of a receptacle. Runaway computer viruses that anonymously destroy equipment, while hijacking the victims' contact lists. The one-sided cell phone rants, where everyone else, standing in any line, anywhere, is a captive audience. Tailgating drivers, speeders, speed-weavers, stop sign runners, double-parkers, three-point-turners in school zones and those drivers who abandon their cars in passenger loading zones, despite the clear directives of posted signs. Bullies, bigots, bashers and trashers. This is, I hope you realize, only a partial list; you have your own list of minor to major irritants.

When did we become such rude, arrogant and narcissistic pigs?

The reason I ask this question is because the bad behavior seems to get worse as the days go by.  Celebrities, politicians and religious leaders lead the fashion trend and tend to model this behavior more than the average person; bad press is better than no press at all, I suppose. The constant need to fill 24 hours of network television on hundreds of channels heightens the visibility of the trend by creating an endless stream of trashy entertainment content, for our viewing pleasure or horror. Certainly, this all provides more that we can all natter on about. "Did you see what they did?" and "Did you hear what they said?" If you don't remember the 1998 film, The Truman Show, it is worth a watch now.

What is it all about? How about alienation?  In The Sane Society, Erich Fromm posited:

We consume, as we produce, without any concrete relatedness to the objects with which we deal; We live in a world of things, and our only connection with them is that we know how to manipulate or to consume them.

It seems as if we have moved beyond this to something even worse, a lack of concrete relatedness to the people who drift through our daily lives. Whatever the cause, there seem to be a lot of people who really only act and care about what they are doing in any given moment; consequences, intended or otherwise, don't seem to come into the thought process at all--it could be overstating to suggest that there might be a thought process involved. Meanwhile, there are other people who get their jollies from being intentionally irritating to every person within reach of their chosen mode of ugliness. What an alienable use and waste of inalienable rights and freedoms! What a waste of mind, body, spirit! What a waste of life!

I have to be honest and say that I really enjoy thoughtful people, people who think about and care about the consequences of their actions, people who are not out for everything they can get, people who will drive around the block just because they know it won't take any longer than making that dangerous three-point turn that will have them backing up into a crosswalk. I find it a blessing to be standing in a line, if it must be so, with people who are able to smile, pass the time civilly, and make a dull moment into something fresh.

If I have to live in a world that gyrates to the beat of thoughtless boobs, I say a prayer of thanksgiving for all of you thoughtful and beautiful people who redeem ugly moments, created by ugly people, with a smile and a relaxed "we're all in this together" attitude.