Monday, July 09, 2007

The Craft

William and Liam have both recently left interesting posts about the history of mysticism in Spain round-about the 13th century, a time when Jewish, Christian and Muslim mystics riffed off of each other's work in pursuit of the divinity. Much of what we know about of western mystical practices stem from this time and place. It was a time of rich flowering.

It's arguable, too, that much of modernism has been sort of a secularization of the mystical tradition, with its phenomenological and ontological interrogations of experience. But as the decoding process continues, our friends the Marxist critics will say, so does the acquisition of its fruit into market practice. Where once we had a guru and a disciple, or a maestro and an apprentice, now we have an executive coach nd his client.

This need not be as painful as it may sound. The coach often teaches the manager how to behave himself. Sometimes this benefits the employees.

Where once there was a mandala, now there is a pie chart, a target. Where once there were narrative frescos filled with mythic beasts and heros, now there is a performance chart.

Things ain't what they used to be, that's for sure.

I don't know anyone who has an executive coach, not that I know of, though most people I run with aren't executives. No mentors, no coaches, no Merlins or Obi Wans to guide us, we rely on our stupidity to keep us on our habitual course.


As if the river would kill us if we moved a little to the left or right.

Most of those Spanish mystics were likely not working full days either. There is a whole history of people living off of others' efforts.

Sometimes the workers would organize. Different versions of this were more effective than others. Notice that many UAWers are out of work and out of luck, but the Masons... don't they run everything now? And I believe the Masons started out as masons.


Along with the mystical, this economic pattern was another thing modernism tried to take on.


But what do I mean by "take on?"


In broad and simplistic strokes: Fauvism and Expressionism attempted to translate the unsayable in terms of emotional experience into form and color; Cubism broke vision down into composite parts in order to study it and its relationship to consciousness; Dada and Surrealism played with the shattering of belief systems and the construction of new ones, searched for buried treasure in chance operations and the unconscious; Abstract Expressionism attempted to trace the basic impulse of thought and emotion in a trail of paint, sound or language. I could go on. Anyone who has dabbled in mystic practices, whether it be ceremonial magick or Tibetan Buddhism, should see a relationship here. These are all ways to break out of one's current framework and experience life differently. In other words, they are ways to break with the isms of identification, everything from the way one sees depth and colors, to the "ego" or self-identity itself.

And of course, Marxism attempted to help us break free of our identification with a particular class, an economic class. A liberal democracy, as we supposedly practice in the U.S., was supposed to help as well, but its critics claim that its reliance on a capital-fueled engine to power itself inevitably stratifies class to near medieval levels.

I don't know whether to agree or disagree with that. All I know is most of us have to work, and because of that, work has to change. Over time, it demands more of us, and in the end is making us less intelligent. Powerful and stupid. Not a good combination.

But you can't wait around for someone to change work for you. No one has any interest in making your life any better, making you more intelligent and capable. Not really.


One reason why you and I may not be as successful at creating our own realities as Genet was, is probably because we are not as able at the craft, whether that craft is writing, dancing, or counting one's breaths in a lotus position.


I don't want to preach; these things in themselves will likely lead you nowhere in the long run, but they may provide you with momentary lapses which might help you form a different relationship to yourself, and even with your work. I say work, in particular, rather than something else, because it is often the context in which you need these lapses most, where you most likely need to be able to set yourself free.


And freedom, like all things, is imaginiary.


If only imagining it within yourself, with no witness besides yourself.


And once you can accomplish this, to believe it is true, you may begin to have interesting reactions from others around you.


But don't say a word.

3 comments:

cowboyangel said...

My interest in the mystics lies primarily in their relationship to language. That's what got me hooked. Someone like Abulafia sounds at times like a highly advanced poet.

It's the shamanistic connection, perhaps, between mystics and poets.

I do think modern artists are what we have left after we jettisoned "G-d." (That and sports.) Don't we worship and "follow" rock stars like people probably followed Ibn Arabi? Instead of learning the Koran, one learns the chords. In that respect, I guess the Velvets would be one of the main late-20th century schools of religion.

People need their utterances.

John Schertzer said...

William,
Interesting relationship between mystics and language, I agree with you.

First let's consider Zen, which emphasizes mostly the negative aspect of language as part of what gets in the way of our Buddhahood.

Second, consider the Kabbalah, in which language, not only language, but the alphabet itself (also as the numerical system) has a priveledged relationship with the divine.

In a similar way, in certain forms of Vedic mysticism -- and I'm thinking mainly of northern Shiva cults, claim that the phonemes of language, actually the sound of letters to be more accurate, has a special form of Skakti all its own, that can be used in prayer and literature to help enlighten the user, and pass energies along. As a poet, this is something I find particularly interesting, and when I was editing LIT, I tried to have George Kalamaras write something on this subject, though I don't think we saw eye to eye. George, remember, is a meditator in the tradition of Paramahansa Mahesh Yogi.

One last thing I want to mention is a piece in the times recently by Haruki Murakami just this
Sunday which describes how he was inspired to write novels through his love of jazz music, and his desire to do something similar (http://www.nytimes.com/2007/07/08/books/review/Murakami-t.html?ref=books). This is somehow related, and related as well to Genet, and how one creates the world one carries on one's back, don't you think. Thanks!

cowboyangel said...

John,

Damn, this is a great conversation - sorry I vanished for a while. Moving and other matters knocked me out of the blogging loop for awhile.

Your point on Zen is a good one. There are other schools, too, of "working towards silence/nothingness" in poetry, music, etc. Wasn't Rene Char and/or Paul Celan into that to some degree? And minimalism? But, in my limited understanding of these things, I've always had a problem with this theory, as well as with free jazz, which is related perhaps. Once you have nothing . . . well . . . you have nothing. Where do go from there? it's always felt like a creative cul de sac to me. Again, in my limited knowledge of what they were trying to do. I think also of the "How can we write after Hiroshima?" thing. Well . . . how can we not write/sing/talk, etc.

Perhaps it's more that there's a time and place for everything. Silence. Utterance. I lean more towards what you say of the Shiva cults, though isn't this also in Kabbalah and Sufism? The spiritual effect of vowels versus consonants, etc. As I said, we need our utterances.

i'll look for the Murakami piece.