Monday, March 20, 2023

Small Planet... (purpose wants no praise)



They told me I'm a bright star.
But what do astronomers know?
They don't feel the pressure inside:
The weight of being a fire-tide,
The coming collapse, and
The big black hole.

If I pull my neighbors in spiral-tight,
or let water on their pink-rock skin
Turn silver-gray and crystalline,
Or flare their plush plants wilt-brown thin,
What do the astronomers feel?
A little lens-light around
Their retina-wheel.

I don't bulge large inside this dance
For love of hearing, “Oh beautiful light!”
I persist because this is my face—
Gathered together out of dust and grace—
To know of nothing, but to burn
in place. Because it's right.

Anything more is a lab-coated dream:
Logging and tracking, then to say what “should be.”
But where is their child? Nowhere near their lips.
Their lover? Loosing memory of their finger tips.
Were they born to squint at my light like this?
No, NO, no—they were born like me:

To form, catch fire, and then (with bright cores)
be. Not know, not say (those gases
burn away, small planet) … be.

8 comments:

  1. The first stanza of this poem really caught my attention when I first read it. I really like that metaphor of seeing the brightness of a star but not the pressure inside; I’ve never heard that before, but it’s very fitting. I can really relate to that now, especially with a lot of the pressures recently that come with my current transition in life (applying for colleges, making big decisions, etc.). I also felt like the weight was collapsing on me in a similar way with other things like violin playing, which is something that is a massive burden on me that can’t be seen from the outside because I practice when no one is watching. Tomorrow I have a performance where I have to play a solo piece at a Rotary Club, and hopefully people see me as a bright star, but they will never see everything that happened behind the scenes to make it possible. I suppose that’s one specific interpretation that relates to my current situation, but I can see what the broader poem is about. The title especially struck me. I see it as the idea that we just keep burning because that’s what we just have to do, and there is really nothing we can do except move forward. This is our sole purpose, so we don’t want praise nor criticism as it will make no difference. I thought the whole idea of astronomers was interesting--that they don’t really know what’s happening inside, and that they can imagine all sorts of theories and potential scenarios but that has no effect on reality. It almost seems like it’s criticizing those who criticize in vain and “squint at my light” when they are really the same because we’re all stardust.
    The picture for this poem is my favorite I have seen yet. I noticed how the astronomer (Galileo?) is looking (“squinting”) directly into the person’s glowing eye, able to see the light but probably unable to see anything deeper than that. The color in general and blend/overlay modes are also very cool.

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    1. Thanks ~ I spend a looot of time tweaking the colors and levels on these collages until they feel like something (connected, having depth and movement) to me. I'm glad it lands with other people too ... although I'd be compelled to do it even if there wasn't an audience, lol. #MetaComments

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  2. To me, this poem reads as a resistance to structure and objectivity. The speaker seems to want to focus more on their emotions and primal sensations rather than looking for explanations from the great intellectuals in society. The speaker characterizes scientists as unemotional and detached (they are distant from their lover and child and have few emotional reactions) in their thirst for knowledge. The speaker appears to argue we should just let ourselves “be” rather than trying to question and explain everything, and that the categorizations scientists create are not able to capture the nuances and complexity of human feeling.

    The poem reminds me of the ideas presented in existentialism: that there is no greater structure or objective meaning to life, so each individual must create their own meaning in life. The poem opens with, “They told me I'm a bright star. / But what do astronomers know? / They don't feel the pressure inside.” The speaker refuses to let external forces define him. He places his internal emotional experience above the objectively factual research done by scientists, because the scientists don’t actually know how it feels to be him.

    The accompanying image shows a person looking through a telescope which leads directly into another person’s forehead. This seems to correlate with the existentialist ideals I discussed above by promoting subjectivity over objectivity. I think the image could symbolize that the search for an objective truth and knowledge (represented by the scientist using the telescope) is fruitless, and will always lead back into the mind of the individual (represented by the head in the sky). By making the individual bigger than the scientist, the image makes the argument that the individual is a greater source of truth and knowledge than those who try to impose an objective structure to explain the world.

    I find it interesting that the poem contains the words “loosing memory,” rather than losing memory. Though my first instinct is to assume it is a typo, I wonder if there is a deeper meaning behind this misspelling. Maybe it shows how it is not a complete, irreversible loss, but only a loosening grip. At the end of the poem, the speaker also says that even scientists were born to simply “be” and not to know or say. Through the use of the word “loosing” the speaker implies that not even scientists are above the lowest, most primitive of human feelings; they may be able to repress them, but they can never truly lose them.

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    1. It was, indeed, on purpose ~ the word "lose" is emotionally grey to me...overplayed, especially in the context of memories and forgetting. To me, letting loose a memory of finger tips, implies a more conscious act: opening the hand and letting the memory fall away because "Harold spends so many nights late at the office; it's clear he prioritizes his work with more passionate dedication than his family...so why should I hold onto this desire for him?"

      It's the difference between "your lover is forgetting you" (memory lost) and "your lover is letting you go, because you've kind of done the same to them" (memory loosed).

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  3. This poem reminded me of my educational experience. Although people around me don’t directly put pressure on me, I often feel the pressure of needing to keep up a certain academic standard just to show people that I can do it. That is why the title immediately resonated with me, like my purpose is to do well in school and therefore I don’t deserve any praise I receive for it (whether it be in the form of getting into college, from my parents or friends, and so on) because this is just what I have to do. The first two lines also reminded me of this feeling, that of being told I’m doing well but feeling overwhelmed inside and am therefore undeserving of praise. The line “I persist because this is my face” made this poem incredibly relatable—I’ve always felt the need to achieve and there has never been any other option, especially because I often feel like my other skills are lacking in comparison to my academic achievement.

    I really liked the comparison of observer versus object of observation in the final stanza. While the rest of the poem differentiated the two, the last stanza equalized the astronomers and stars by implying that they were both forced to be, whether they liked it or not. I also feel like the correlating collage shows this concept of similarity; the astronomer looks through the telescope toward the sky, and a face, which I thought might represent the stars that are being watched, looks back down on the astronomer. They are both observers in the end, which I thought was comforting in that it shows that people go through the same inner experiences of self-doubt, regardless of what side of the telescope you are on.

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  4. When I read this poem, I get the strong feeling that I, along with all other humans, are really just small insignificant specks being hurled through space and time on a slightly larger and slightly less insignificant rock known as Earth. The line, “to form, catch fire, and then (with bright cores) be” seems to me like a very existentialist way of thinking of human life, in that what we do cannot change the past, and that the future is not something that can be accounted for in the present, and that it therefore doesn’t matter until it happens. To simply be in this case is the idea that one should enjoy and live in the moment, and that the past should be of little to no consequence. The speaker seems to recognize that all those who have been in their life are exactly like them in that they are all made of the same material for the same purpose, which is to exist and nothing more. The collage looks to me as if it is an astronomer attempting to look out into the stars, but is blocked by a much larger being, which I see as a creator being that is responsible for the creation of humans to fulfill their purpose. When seeing this collage, I feel as if I am being watched by that creator being, but not in the way that they have control over my fate or destiny, instead more as if humans are an amusement to them that they created for the purpose of entertainment and to see what they will do with the small amount of time they have in this universe.

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  5. I loved the way this poem put meaning into humbleness and working hard. To me, it is wrong to do something strenuous or hard for praise. One should do these things because they enjoy doing them, because they are good at it, maybe they feel it improves their character. But always, the driving force should not be praise. I also liked the first stanza talking about collapse and the coming black hole. As a swimmer, I’ve seen many of my friends leave the sport after burning out. For years they improve at an astronomical rate, getting better and better and doing more and more outside of swimming as they grow older. However, at a point some of these people put too much on their plate, the rate at which they improved is not sustainable. They burn out. They stop improving at the same rate, and sometimes stop improving entirely. They get disappointed they are no longer dropping time and eventually quit because they feel the sport is no longer for them, just a waste of their time. The people who once praised them for their meteoric rise turn their praises elsewhere. I tie it back to the idea that you should keep your head down until you’re up, that you shouldn’t seek praise because you simply aren’t worthy of it. There is never time for praise, there is always the next step and you must always focus on improving yourself. To me, this poem represents everything a person should be, denying praise to the point of selflessness.

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    1. "denying praise to the point of selflessness." I'd pitch that, based on your explanation and experiences, it might be more in-line to say "denying praise so that you can focus on being yourself, for yourself" :)

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