Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Poetry for Your Reading Pleasure
To Mrs. Reynolds' Cat - by John Keats
Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy’d? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears—but pr’ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me—and upraise
Thy gentle mew—and tell me all thy frays,
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists—
For all thy wheezy asthma—and for all
Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off—and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft, as when the lists
In youth thou enter’dest on glass bottled wall.
___________________________
Keats was inspired to write this beautiful sonnet by an old cat owned by a friend's mother. The poet inhabits the world of the aged feline as if he were a curious young cat eager for tales from the alley of life. His humane tenderness cannot help but shine through, though, and his praise of the cat's fur, soft despite the hardness of life, brims with compassion. The aged feline may have entered life on a wall designed to hurt and discourage passage with its broken glass, but the cat has made it over the wall—of time, of age, of maids doling out a mauling—and triumphed with its fur no less lovely for the wear.
John Keats lived a brief life, from 1795 to 1821, but his status as one of the great English Romantic poets has long outlived him. Schooled to be a surgeon, and on course to success in the field of medicine, Keats abandoned his studies for poetry when in his early twenties. His struggle with ill health began shortly thereafter, traceable to the young poet tending to his brother Tom, who had tuberculosis and would die of it (as eventually would John). Keats also suffered from the weight of family responsibility and financial problems, and his early poetic efforts were not well received. Despite these troubles, the young man managed to write some of the best-known and most beloved poems in the English language. He is also renowned for his letters, which include correspondence with the woman of his dreams, Fanny Brawne, and offer insights into his poetry as well as a philosophy of poetry itself.
The world's loss of Keats at such a young age was tragic, and his knowledge of impending death heartbreaking. Nonetheless, there is a beauty to many of his poems that transcends sadness, and his belief in "the truth of the Imagination" has never lost its vital significance.
I hope you have found this week's poem to your liking! I wish you all a holiday season full of beauty and imagination. Cheers from Pretty Gonzo!
Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroy’d? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears—but pr’ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me—and upraise
Thy gentle mew—and tell me all thy frays,
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists—
For all thy wheezy asthma—and for all
Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off—and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft, as when the lists
In youth thou enter’dest on glass bottled wall.
___________________________
Keats was inspired to write this beautiful sonnet by an old cat owned by a friend's mother. The poet inhabits the world of the aged feline as if he were a curious young cat eager for tales from the alley of life. His humane tenderness cannot help but shine through, though, and his praise of the cat's fur, soft despite the hardness of life, brims with compassion. The aged feline may have entered life on a wall designed to hurt and discourage passage with its broken glass, but the cat has made it over the wall—of time, of age, of maids doling out a mauling—and triumphed with its fur no less lovely for the wear.
John Keats lived a brief life, from 1795 to 1821, but his status as one of the great English Romantic poets has long outlived him. Schooled to be a surgeon, and on course to success in the field of medicine, Keats abandoned his studies for poetry when in his early twenties. His struggle with ill health began shortly thereafter, traceable to the young poet tending to his brother Tom, who had tuberculosis and would die of it (as eventually would John). Keats also suffered from the weight of family responsibility and financial problems, and his early poetic efforts were not well received. Despite these troubles, the young man managed to write some of the best-known and most beloved poems in the English language. He is also renowned for his letters, which include correspondence with the woman of his dreams, Fanny Brawne, and offer insights into his poetry as well as a philosophy of poetry itself.
The world's loss of Keats at such a young age was tragic, and his knowledge of impending death heartbreaking. Nonetheless, there is a beauty to many of his poems that transcends sadness, and his belief in "the truth of the Imagination" has never lost its vital significance.
I hope you have found this week's poem to your liking! I wish you all a holiday season full of beauty and imagination. Cheers from Pretty Gonzo!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Cat Quote of the Week
There are two means of refuge from the miseries of life: music and cats. — Albert Schweitzer
Thursday, December 9, 2010
From the Photo Album: A Buddhist Shrine in Chicago
A few years ago, I visited the Windy City and came upon a small Buddhist temple in Chinatown. I believe it was associated with a Buddhist peace fellowship, although I'm uncertain about that. What I do know is that I wish there were such an island of peace amid the hubbub in my corner of the world. The place was astonishingly beautiful.
The highlight of the shrine is shown below—it's a statue of the Bodhisattva Kuan Yin in a thousand-armed aspect. I was practically speechless when I first saw it. Kuan Yin is beloved for compassion, and this is the face of compassion indeed!
I love how Buddhist offerings tend to include fruit. That seems so right and meaningful, and reminds us how precious the fruits of the spirit are.
My final photo for now shows a statue of Kuan Yin in a more traditional aspect. Very lovely, if not quite as magnificent as the first statue.
I hope you have enjoyed this week's little installment of "From the Photo Album." The holiday rush is upon us, so please be careful out there! Season's Greetings from PrettyGonzo!
The highlight of the shrine is shown below—it's a statue of the Bodhisattva Kuan Yin in a thousand-armed aspect. I was practically speechless when I first saw it. Kuan Yin is beloved for compassion, and this is the face of compassion indeed!
My final photo for now shows a statue of Kuan Yin in a more traditional aspect. Very lovely, if not quite as magnificent as the first statue.
I hope you have enjoyed this week's little installment of "From the Photo Album." The holiday rush is upon us, so please be careful out there! Season's Greetings from PrettyGonzo!
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Poetry for Your Reading Pleasure
The Naming of Cats - by T.S. Eliot
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
______________________
As a matter of note, T.S. Eliot (1886–1965) wrote Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, on which the popular musical Cats was based (and the source of the poem above). Eliot is a major 20th century modern poet probably best known for his poems The Wasteland and The Hollow Men. His Four Quartets are among the best poems ever written in the English language.
The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that's particular,
A name that's peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum—
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there's still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.
______________________
As a matter of note, T.S. Eliot (1886–1965) wrote Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats, on which the popular musical Cats was based (and the source of the poem above). Eliot is a major 20th century modern poet probably best known for his poems The Wasteland and The Hollow Men. His Four Quartets are among the best poems ever written in the English language.
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Cat Quote of the Week
How we behave toward cats here below determines our status in heaven. — Robert A. Heinlein
Thursday, December 2, 2010
From the Photo Album: Tober Nault — An Irish Holy Well
Thursday is photo day at Greetings from PrettyGonzo. Hope you enjoy!
The photos here were taken at Tober Nault, a holy well in County Sligo, Ireland. I've been to Ireland three times, and have explored many of the rich antiquities of the Irish landscape. Stone circles, ancient dolmens (and court tombs), Celtic high crosses, and passage graves such as Newgrange all rate high on anyone's list of those antiquities. But few people seem to realize that Ireland has many holy wells, and most of these are centuries' old. Holy wells have pre-Christian origins, and, clearly, in Ireland the Christian worship at wells has pagan Celtic roots.
I've visited over fifty holy wells in Ireland, some in disrepair but the majority still in use (at least judging by the offerings at them). Each well had something unique about it, and I was able to observe their use by people on several occasions. Tober Nault is one of the best known wells, has a history that can be dated back to ancient times, and must be one of the most peaceful places on Earth.
I've visited over fifty holy wells in Ireland, some in disrepair but the majority still in use (at least judging by the offerings at them). Each well had something unique about it, and I was able to observe their use by people on several occasions. Tober Nault is one of the best known wells, has a history that can be dated back to ancient times, and must be one of the most peaceful places on Earth.
I hope you have enjoyed these photos! Happy Holidays from PrettyGonzo!
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