Youth’s Confession

I have a confession to make to you,

I’m not a grown up yet, I still rely 

On other people, parents and friends who

Bolster me up when I’m blue, and don’t lie

About things because it isn’t loving,

I confess that I still cry about dumb

Things more trivial than playground shoving

And laugh in those instances when someone

Tells a poorly constructed knock-knock joke,

I wonder if this immaturity

Is perpetual, like and iron yoke,

Or if those more mature than I keep

The truth under the radar and make their own

Confession that they too don’t yet feel grown.  

The Value of History

I like old things. Not exclusively and not indiscriminately but in general I find that the age of something is proportionate to the fascination it provokes in me. Age, of course, isn’t the only thing that matters though. The preservation, historical context, and subject matter itself are also key elements of intrigue as well. The story of an object or character is really what holds me. For instance, this old wine, is really interesting to me and this blog, is super wonderful because it is chock full of old stuff that people all over the world are finding. It has the latest news on the oldest stuff. 

This is also why I adore museums. They are full of stories and objects that have stories and tell stories. The micro-miniature statues at the Jurassic Technology Museum and the lower left dentition from a grey whale at the Natural History Museum and the stone wall reliefs from Nineveh at the British Museum are all pieces of the crazy variable and beautifully patterned story of the world. Something about touching a 65 million-year-old turtle shell puts you in touch with ideas of greatness beyond what you are currently experiencing day to day. Becoming so near-sighted in vision, so that all of the history and futurity fade into what happened last week or what will happen tomorrow, is one of the limitations (promoted by our fast-paced technological culture, I might add) of my mind that I continually strive against. 

William Blake’s Ancient Bard suggests this kind of vision to the reader, modeling for them a timeless wisdom that is not limited by categorical comparisons or titles. There is a great deal of freedom in this view, a lot more room for human emotion and the imagination. It opens doors into innovation and invention that otherwise remain closed. Obviously there is no sure knowledge of the past and an even foggier understanding of the future and I’m certainly not a prophet, but there is something valuable to be gained by holding all of these perspectives in tension; if only the wonder of discovery. 

Psalm 104