Critics and Sages
Posted: Thu Oct 21, 2004 5:43 pm
Poetry can be beautiful. Human beings have the potential to experience language as aesthetic joy; and language can – in rare instances – transmit a deep quality of experience from the writer to the reader. This last may be attacked by various schools of literary theory, and that’s fine. If it ain’t true for you, it ain’t true.
Sharing poetry should be an occasion for joy. A celebration of our very humanity in the medium of language. A sacred rite.
Too New Age for you? OK – I’ll recant everything I ever said. You see, words can trap you, if you take them too seriously. They’re just words! It’s just thoughts. My thoughts, your thoughts – it doesn’t matter. Reality is infinitely greater than what language has to say about it.
Reality IS. It’s not for or against. Still, the Philosopher will never befriend the Zen Master, because ”nothing upsets the parson so much as the presence of a saint in his parish.” Truth is not a system of thought, just as theology does not equate God. The free soul couldn’t care less if she contradicts herself. And she doesn’t necessarily hold to the modes of expression most revered by a particular culture or sub-culture. ”How poetry should be written” fails to impress.
When language is used to express spiritual experience, it can operate both within and outside of the boundaries established by tradition and dogma – the authorised ways of speaking about Ultimate Reality. Those who recognize the unbound nature of that reality typically do not limit themselves to the official language. Consequently they may prefer poetry to theology.
Now, since language is dualistic and limiting in its nature, giving expression to such experience requires that one must try to break free of language. This, of course, is ultimately impossible. Consequently, some mystics claim that silence is the only true utterance. But as Katagiri Roshi said: ”You have to say something.” So mystics typically adopt one of two strategies: the apophatic or the cataphatic. Apophaticism is the via negativa, the route by which you you let language turn on itself, through paradox and negations. This is done to try to bring the reader to the realization that ”God” transcends the mind/logic/language – that the reality of which they speak is ”wholly other.”
Those focusing on the feeling-qualities of spirituality, on the other hand, will likely use cataphatic language. This is language that is overflowing, abundant, rich in metaphor, attempting to pour the sacred out onto the page.
To people with no experience of the mystics’ truth, their writings will often seem like sentimental drivel, utterly devoid of any coherence or rationality. The irony is that the lesser here condemns the greater. Knowing only the world of thought, rationality passes judgment on trans-rationality, thinking that it is pre-rational.
That’s why the critic will never befriend the sage.
But then again, sometimes it happens.
Sharing poetry should be an occasion for joy. A celebration of our very humanity in the medium of language. A sacred rite.
Too New Age for you? OK – I’ll recant everything I ever said. You see, words can trap you, if you take them too seriously. They’re just words! It’s just thoughts. My thoughts, your thoughts – it doesn’t matter. Reality is infinitely greater than what language has to say about it.
Reality IS. It’s not for or against. Still, the Philosopher will never befriend the Zen Master, because ”nothing upsets the parson so much as the presence of a saint in his parish.” Truth is not a system of thought, just as theology does not equate God. The free soul couldn’t care less if she contradicts herself. And she doesn’t necessarily hold to the modes of expression most revered by a particular culture or sub-culture. ”How poetry should be written” fails to impress.
When language is used to express spiritual experience, it can operate both within and outside of the boundaries established by tradition and dogma – the authorised ways of speaking about Ultimate Reality. Those who recognize the unbound nature of that reality typically do not limit themselves to the official language. Consequently they may prefer poetry to theology.
Now, since language is dualistic and limiting in its nature, giving expression to such experience requires that one must try to break free of language. This, of course, is ultimately impossible. Consequently, some mystics claim that silence is the only true utterance. But as Katagiri Roshi said: ”You have to say something.” So mystics typically adopt one of two strategies: the apophatic or the cataphatic. Apophaticism is the via negativa, the route by which you you let language turn on itself, through paradox and negations. This is done to try to bring the reader to the realization that ”God” transcends the mind/logic/language – that the reality of which they speak is ”wholly other.”
Those focusing on the feeling-qualities of spirituality, on the other hand, will likely use cataphatic language. This is language that is overflowing, abundant, rich in metaphor, attempting to pour the sacred out onto the page.
To people with no experience of the mystics’ truth, their writings will often seem like sentimental drivel, utterly devoid of any coherence or rationality. The irony is that the lesser here condemns the greater. Knowing only the world of thought, rationality passes judgment on trans-rationality, thinking that it is pre-rational.
That’s why the critic will never befriend the sage.
But then again, sometimes it happens.