FWIW, "or engaged On the shady side of a square at midday in Voluble discourse, knowing each other too well to think There are any important secrets, unable To conceive a god whose temper-tantrums are moral And not to be pacified by a clever line Or a good lay: for accustomed to a stone that responds, They have never had to veil their faces in awe Of a crater whose blazing fury could not be fixed; Adjusted to the local needs of valleys Where everything can be touched or reached by walking, Their eyes have never looked into infinite space Through the lattice-work of a nomad's comb; born lucky, Their legs have never encountered the fungi And insects of the jungle, the monstrous forms and lives With which we have nothing, we like to hope, in common." - W.H. Auden, 'In Praise Of Limestone' Cheers, CR --- On Tue, 7/5/11, Peter Montgomery <[log in to unmask]> wrote: This suggests the possibility that the electric heat is not experiential in the ordinary sense. Perhaps it is a creative perception as with the poet of LG. It is something immediate and intense. It changes everything in a flash. We all have such moments, don't we? Perhaps with different characteristics, and more or less in tents. P. ----- Original Message ----- From: David Boyd To: [log in to unmask] Sent: Monday, July 04, 2011 11:48 PM Subject: Re: electric heat, deep lane in East Coker Might be worth observing - this part of England is hardly tropical, or anything at all like it, so the 'electric heat' would have been very unusual indeed. There were big heatwaves in England in 1930 and in 1932, but nothing unusual around 1937, when Eliot is supposed to have visited his ancestral village. Of course, he might well have been there prior to 1937 and have been recalling the place being in the grip of a heat wave. The English climate is typically cool and wet, but yo-yos between very soggy and sultry extremes - see for example this place, around 20 miles away from me as crows fly. http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-1383099/UK-drought-Borrowdale-Cumbria-Britains-driest-place-rain-month.html On 5 July 2011 01:51, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote: btw the vision of a mystical void -- silence prufrock's pervigilium gerontion wasteland east coker ----- an abiding perspective CR --- On Sun, 7/3/11, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote: "electric heat" vis-a-vis "deep lane" cf. Frost "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, And sorry I could not travel both And be one traveler, long I stood And looked down one as far as I could To where it bent in the undergrowth; ... ... ... Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." ----- mystic madness "And when the dawn at length had realized itself And turned with a sense of nausea, to see what it had stirred: The eyes and feet of men -- I fumbled to the window to experience the world And to hear my Madness singing, sitting on the kerbstone [A blind old drunken man who sings and mutters, With broken boot heels stained in many gutters] and as he sang the world began to fall apart ... "Falling towers Jerusalem Athens Alexandria Vienna London Unreal" nil nisi divinum stabile est; caetera fumus "O lord, have patience" "In my beginning is my end". ----- Thanks, CR --- On Sun, 7/3/11, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote: however the subtlest so far lost in a sultry haze unless one looked both before and after CR --- On Sat, 7/2/11, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote: Voilà! T. S. Eliot Reading 'The Love Song Of J. Alfred Prufrock' http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NhiCMAG658M "We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown." Cheers, CR --- On Sat, 7/2/11, Chokh Raj <[log in to unmask]> wrote: pourquoi pas when the world gets on the nerves of a person endowed with a mystical sensibility that is radically poetic we have it :) CR --- On Sat, 7/2/11, Peter Montgomery <[log in to unmask]> wrote: Vis-a-vis just about anything. P. ----- Original Message ----- From: Chokh Raj To: [log in to unmask] Sent: Friday, July 01, 2011 4:57 AM Subject: Re: electric heat, deep lane in East Coker Vis-a-vis the endless ordeal of "heat and silence"? CR --- On Thu, 6/30/11, Peter Montgomery <[log in to unmask]> wrote: "Dawn points" get the point? P. ----- Original Message ----- From: Chokh Raj To: [log in to unmask] Sent: Thursday, June 30, 2011 6:55 AM Subject: Re: electric heat, deep lane in East Coker I'm intrigued by the mystical dimension of the passage, a poem by itself, till now overlooked as a piece of mere description. And I reach out to where Dawn points, and another day Prepares for // heat and silence //. Out at sea the dawn wind Wrinkles and slides. I am here Or there, or elsewhere. In my beginning. Thanks, CR --- On Thu, 6/30/11, Peter Montgomery <[log in to unmask]> wrote: The beginning of the passage contains the end. The end of the passage is the litle people. They are at the deep end of the deep lane, the insisting lane. Peter ----- Original Message ----- From: "Peter Montgomery" <[log in to unmask]> To: <[log in to unmask]> Sent: Thursday, June 30, 2011 1:22 AM Subject: Re: electric heat, deep lane in East Coker > Note this whole passage is a package leading one into a trance in which one experiences the little folk. > > Note that Tim's deep lane is a repetition. > > What is the symbolism of the dahlias? > > Are there devices used in conjuring a trance which use electricity? > > The van creates a kind of separation from normal consciousness into the > trance. > > The sultry light is not ordinary. It is absorbed, as is one's consciousness. > > I think the deep lane is a symbol for the experiencer's consciousness as > it is taken over into a deep trance. I think static electricity is a very good > possibility. > > There is potency in the imagery. It is wound up and ready to strike, ready > to zap, and the little people are the end product of the zap. > > This is just my first percolation. No doubt more to come. > Note this is just a standard approach to such analysis. > I don't much agree with doing it this way, but if that's > what's happening then I will try to be nice and join in. > > Here is the whole passage. Surely it is small enough > that its wholeness can be absorbed.: > > In my beginning is my end. Now the light falls > Across the open field, leaving the deep lane > Shuttered with branches, dark in the afternoon, > Where you lean against a bank while a van passes, > And the deep lane insists on the direction > Into the village, in the electric heat > Hypnotised. In a warm haze the sultry light > Is absorbed, not refracted, by grey stone. > The dahlias sleep in the empty silence. > Wait for the early owl.