Simply

Phew. I really haven't posted in a while - a while being an entire college semester. Though I now post with less frequency, I'd like to think that my posts have come a long way from a few years ago, when I would post little content just for the sake of getting something up on the blog. I think I finally realized that I write on this blog for myself, not to supply a content hungry audience with empty banter (though I do really appreciate the few of you that check this out from time to time!). Anyway, enough about my lack of content. Being home has reminded me of the beauty of solitude and quiet, a solitude infrequently found amongst the Vassar College campus (as beautiful as that wonderful place is). My friend Rob recently reminded me of my past love for poetry, a love he ignited with his reminder.

So, On Solitude

I stood there waiting
Waiting not for a what
But who
Who stood there with me
Out upon this black, empty space?
The only guidance
Two thin yellow lines
Straight, forever
Was this my destiny?
I seemed to think so
My body so content
Peaceful, almost
A light descended upon my face
I slowly looked
Ah, simply the moon
A light descended upon my chest
Ah, simply a car
A light descended upon my being
Ah, simply God
Simply?
What is simply, who is simply, why is simply?
Implying ineptitude
Denying beauty
This is not simple
This is truth
I stepped aside from the car
A sage
In a suburban wasteland
All because of simply?
Well, my friend
Simplicity is truth.

I Am Therefore I Think

"Cabbage, car, plague germ, star: we're all kith and kin. Not, my sun-eyed love, "Cogito Ergo Sum" but, in our distinguished family, we can think because we are..." -Nazim Hikmet

Just a little quote to think about from Nazim Hikmet, from poetry which he composed during his time in prison in the mid 1940's. Its funny to consider the great, elegant minds that end up locked up in prison for the majority of their lives. The solace and elegance that Hikmet and other "prison poets" demonstrate (such as Nelson Mandela - one of whose poems and life was recently the focus of the Hollywood flick Invictus) is truly remarkable in the face of adversity. I hope that I would be able to equally come to peace with my circumstances if ever faced with something as trying.

A little off topic, but another example of this can be seen in an even more popular demonstration - that of Armando Galarraga, a pitcher in Major League Baseball for the Detroit Tigers. Recently, he pitched a perfect game against the Cleveland Indians, which is probably the single most prestigious, difficult, and, well, "perfect" single game achievement in baseball, and possibly even any other sport. A perfect game occurs when a pitcher retires the minimum amount of batters possible in a game - which is twenty-seven (9 innings x 3 outs per inning). This can only happen if: 1)The pitcher allows no hits, 2)The pitcher's team commits no errors, 3)The pitcher does not give up a walk. This is quite the feat, especially considering the pitcher is facing a major league lineup with some of the best athletes and baseball players in the entire world.

There have only been 20 perfect games pitched in Major League Baseball history (21 if you count Galarraga's), a history that dates back over 100 years into the mid to late 1800's. Each baseball season, there are 162 games played (with slightly less games played throughout the course of history) - an attest to how truly rare and impressive the perfect game is. Considering that there are 30 teams in ma jor league baseball (about 24 teams dating back to earlie r times), I'll use this equation to calculate the probabilit y of a perfect game occurring:

150 games (approximately) times 24 teams (approximately) times 130 seasons (approximately - again, I'm not looking up exacts, but the result will be close enough) divided by 20 perfect games. (150 x 24 x 130) / 20 = 1/23400, or .0000427. That means that, out of all the games that have been pitched in major league history, 0.0042 7% of them have been perfect games. Needless to say, that's a ridiculously minute number, and one that would put a pitcher in the Major League recor d books forever.

Now that I've established how amazing the pitching of a perfect game really is, I'll present Galarraga's case in this article on MLB.com. I would check out the video too - It gives a better representation of what happened. If the article isn't working or you don't feel like checking it out, basically what happened was that Galarraga had a perfect game going with 2 outs in the ninth inning. Jason Donald, the Indian's batter, hit a groundball to the first-baseman's right - so Galarraga had to hustle over to first to cover the base. It seemed like a routine play, a little close, but routine. When Galarraga stepped on first base, it appeared history had been made, with the Detroit crowd erupting with excitement and joy, with passion and pleasure at the rarity they had just witnessed.

But wait a second.

Jim Joyce, the first base umpire, had done the unthinkable - he had called Donald safe. Galarraga, though, took what had just happened with extreme class and humility, and a sportsmanship which I have never seen before. Rather than throw a fit or get in Joyce's face, Galarraga reacted in disbelief - but then simply smiled. He smiled and appreciated what he knew he had just accomplished, despite some petty call. I think Joe Posnanski, in this article, put it best: "And when my young daughters ask, 'Why didn’t he get mad and scream about how he was robbed?' I think I will tell them this: I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s because Armando Galarraga understands something that is very hard to understand, something we all struggle with, something I hope you will learn as you grow older: In the end, nobody’s perfect. We just do the best we can."

Galarraga's case is an example of how beautiful a human reaction can be on the highest of competitive levels in this world. His actions (or, perhaps, lack of action) is one of my favorite sports moments of all time. Like Hikmet, it is amazing to see what some human beings can do in the face of adversity.

Corn Syrup

Where the amber flows into the clear inside these paper walls
There exists no chemical reaction.
Icebergs slide down a snowy slope,
A misty oblivion, allowing the solid to flow.
Nothing complicated, nothing thats supposed to induce awe,
Yet the mind's eye makes it so,
That beautiful gift of capacity
Consciousness.
Friend, why do you stare so?
I simply stand here and drink my Diet Coke.

William Butler Yeats - The Magi

OW as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,

In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones

Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky

With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,

And all their helms of silver hovering side by side,

And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,

Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,

The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

Religious Allusion and Societal Criticism in William Butler Yeats’ The Magi

The Magi employs masterful use of symbolic language to reveal religious allusion within the context of a societal commentary. William Butler Yeats, the author of the poem, was an Irish poet apparently deeply fascinated with the spiritual, the religious, and the occult. Yeats wrote The Magi during the tail end of his career (1914 – Yeats passed away in 1939), which may explain the seeming reminiscent tones toward the “ancient faces” presented in the poem (line 4).

Yeats begins the poem by immediately establishing that his experience is an abstract one. While this abstract nature originates in the experience of the speaker, Yeats points to an objective truth inherent in the way in which he describes the “old men in the sky” (the magi). He describes their clothes and and their state of mind in a way that objectively judges the motives of the magi. The juxtaposition of “stiff, painted clothes” and “pale, unsatisfied ones” is not a mistake on the part of Yeats, but intentionally a judgement of the material grasping of the “ancient faces” in the sky (lines 2, 4). The trend to criticize the material continues immediately following, as Yeats then follows “faces like rain-beaten stones” with “and all their helms of silver hovering side by side.” The speaker establishes here a sense of correlation between the worn down and the glimmering, metallic hat.

Despite the prescence of the lavish hat and colorful clothes, the subject of criticism remains detached from the delusional beauty of these material things. The hat “hovers” instead of crowns, the clothes are “stiff” instead of flowing and comfortable (lines 2, 5). Even more importantly, despite the presence of these very material things, the ancient faces “appear and disappear”, not holding a strong physical appearance despite “...all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more…the uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.” The ancient faces are trying their hardest to grasp and hold onto the material yet are failing, not only in their own quest but in failing to maintain both their own happiness and their own presence. This failure most likely points to Yeats’ criticism of the attempt to maintain a firm hold in the realm of the physical world through the pursuit of material goods. The quest to be immortal only ends in unhappiness for eternity, an immortal state surely contrary to the original intent of the pursuers.

Within the poem, Yeats’ tone passes from truthful, nostalgic, transcendent and heaven-like to falsely hopeful, rough, turbulent, and hell-like. This may point to Yeats attempt to degrade the status of the magi due to their groveling for things and failure to recognize the true beauty inherent in the world (as shown by “the blue depth of the sky” in line 3). Yeats’ presents a sharp contrast not only through the change in style in his poetry as shown by the revealing of the true nature of the magi but additionally through the biblical tones established throughout the work.

The first of these occurs in the title itself, “The Magi.” The Magi were the three “wise men” who visited Jesus as a newborn child, presenting him with three gifts (as they truly believed he was the messiah). The “ancient faces” in the story appear to be manifestations of the Magi to the extreme – rather than being the bearer of gifts to Jesus, they are the takers away of gifts, the purely physically grasping. Yeats solidifies this possibility through his use of the line, “being by Calvary’s turbulence unsatisfied” (line 7). Calvary, in its capital form, literally points to the place at which Jesus was crucified. This solidifies Yeats’ view of the “ancient faces”, he has denounced them as not appeased by the ultimate act of saving – Jesus’ death and resurrection. He shows that despite their unhappiness, they still yearn for the “bestial floor” of what seems to be earth (line 8). The men in the sky, the materially obsessed, simply cannot let go of what they once had, what the livelihood of their physical clothing once brought forth. The description of the earth as a “bestial floor” indicates that Yeats believed that much of his contemporary society emulated the behavior of materialism as exhibited by the “pale unsatisfied ones” in the sky. Labeling them as ungrateful for Jesus’ saving grace and unwilling to give up physical gifts as the Magi did is the ultimate disownment.