Disaster(ous) Logo(s)

blogos

It’s about the process, not the result… the journey, not the destination…

… even though a satisfying outcome would still be ideal.

Ithaca

When you set out on your journey to Ithaca,
pray that the road is long,
full of adventure, full of knowledge.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the angry Poseidon — do not fear them:
You will never find such as these on your path,
if your thoughts remain lofty, if a fine
emotion touches your spirit and your body.
The Lestrygonians and the Cyclops,
the fierce Poseidon you will never encounter,
if you do not carry them within your soul,
if your soul does not set them up before you.

Pray that the road is long.
That the summer mornings are many, when,
with such pleasure, with such joy
you will enter ports seen for the first time;
stop at Phoenician markets,
and purchase fine merchandise,
mother-of-pearl and coral, amber and ebony,
and sensual perfumes of all kinds,

as many sensual perfumes as you can; visit many Egyptian cities, to learn and learn from scholars.

Always keep Ithaca in your mind.
To arrive there is your ultimate goal.
But do not hurry the voyage at all.
It is better to let it last for many years;
and to anchor at the island when you are old,
rich with all you have gained on the way,
not expecting that Ithaca will offer you riches.

Ithaca has given you the beautiful voyage.

Without her you would have never set out on the road.

She has nothing more to give you.

And if you find her poor, Ithaca has not deceived you.

Wise as you have become, with so much experience,

you must already have understood what Ithacas mean.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

Revisited Revised

Another catastrophe, one we never imagined,
sudden, precipitous, falls upon us,
and unprepared — there is no more time — carries us off.

How can I make myself not read this allegorically? How can I make myself not take this literally?

Is this poem timeless, or has history rendered it time-less?

This was around the time Cavafy had given up on symbols.

Myth, to him, is “depoliticized speech” … poetry with no context, the personal detatched from the political. Could this be right???

His poem has a personal tone, a tone of defiance. Defiance, but not complete disregard for an audience. Not disregard the sense that the audience has to empathize.

He must overcome the trappings of myth, precisely through the very trappings of myth: language, poetry, abstraction, allegory.

Only then can his work be set free. But freedom never comes. Freedom is besides the point.

Finalities

Τελειωμένα

Μέσα στον φόβο και στες υποψίες
με ταραγμένο νου και τρομαγμένα μάτια,
λυώνουμε και σχεδιάζουμε το πώς να κάμουμε
για ν’ αποφύγουμε τον βέβαιο
τον κίνδυνο που έτσι φρικτά μας απειλεί.
Κι όμως λανθάνουμε, δεν είν’ αυτός στον δρόμο·
ψεύτικα ήσαν τα μηνύματα
(ή δεν τ’ ακούσαμε, ή δεν τα νοιώσαμε καλά).
Αλλη καταστροφή, που δεν την φανταζόμεθαν,
εξαφνική, ραγδαία πέφτει πάνω μας,
κι ανέτοιμους — πού πια καιρός — μας συνεπαίρνει.

Κωνσταντίνος Π. Καβάφης (1911)

Finalities

Amid fear and suspicions,
with agitated mind and frightened eyes,
we melt and plan how to act
to avoid the certain
danger that so horribly threatens us.
And yet we err, this was not in our paths;
the messages were false
(or we did not hear, or fully understand them).
Another catastrophe, one we never imagined,
sudden, precipitous, falls upon us,
and unprepared — there is no more time — carries us off.

Constantine P. Cavafy (1911)

• Before reading and attempting to comprehend Maurice Blanchot’s The Writing of the Disaster, I would have taken Cavafy’s words at face value (as much as I can bring myself to take poetry at face value).
• However, after reading Blanchot, I revisited this poem and realized that the words had changed. Or was it I that changed? How did I change myself?
• Growing up with Cavafy’s poetry, I was taught by my Greek literature teachers to appreciate the beauty and eloquence of his poetry. I tended to absorb the words but not their meaning.
• But there is so much more. More than I can express or convey, without the fear of distortion.
• How do I force myself to escape the burden of representation?
• Poetry passively acts as a means of approaching the disaster. Approaching but not quite. This is not a paradox.
• The disaster is in Cavafi’s writing. The disaster carries him off as it exists within him. And yet, he is outside of the disaster, just as he is outside of his poetry.
• What stuck with me the most about Cavafy from my high school days is that he was thought to be GAY.