Wednesday, May 9, 2012

because they are so tightly tied

“Everyone who tells a story tells it differently, just to remind us that everybody sees it differently. Some people say there are true things to be found, some people say all kinds of things can be proved. I don't believe them. The only thing for certain is how complicated it all is, like string full of knots. It's all there but hard to find the beginning and impossible to fathom the end. The best you can do is admire the cat's cradle, and maybe knot it up a bit more.”

Jeanette Winterson, Oranges are Not the Only Fruit

I'm thinking also this morning of the poem as a knot of string, about the poem as string game, about its inexhaustibleness.

"For the fact that the poem is inexhaustible
And becomes one with the sum of all created things
And will never reach its last verse
And varies according to its writers..."

~ Jorge Luis Borges

And what about thinking of this string as the string that tied our wings, and that we discarded?

"All of us have wings, though we do not suspect it because they are so tightly tied. We are not meant to stay on the ground and peck at crumbs of personal pleasure and profit. We are meant to soar – to give our time and love freely to everyone around us. That is the essence of spiritual growth, and the whole purpose of meditation and the other skills of spiritual living is to free our wings and allow us to fly high."

~ Eknath Easwaran via Blue Mountain Center of Meditation

There is also the belief that a length of red string worn around the wrist will ward of evil spirits, the evil eye.

The string as symbol of how we are all connected, this comes up often.  Remember the part in Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, spoken by Rochester:

“Sometimes I have the strangest feeling about you. Especially when you are near me as you are now. It feels as though I had a string tied here under my left rib where my heart is, tightly knotted to you in a similar fashion. And when you go to Ireland, with all that distance between us, I am afraid that this cord will be snapped, and I shall bleed inwardly.”

Well, I have no idea sometimes where these posts will lead me.  And often the leaps from stone to stone, from thought to image to thought do not cohere.  In that way, this is very similar to a commonplace book - random bits and pieces.  That perhaps later will be stitched into something resembling sense....


  1. I like how you arranged the string. I also am glad, somehow, that you wound it up neatly. Rather defies what the first poet said.

  2. i am back here again to read this post....i don't know how many times i have read it....the only thing i know is that i will continue to read it again and again in the speeks so deeply to me...


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