Harmony of the Spheres

http://www.pagesofink.com/images/2008/DancingSky_HarmonyOfTheSpheres.jpg

The following is an excerpt from a paper I presented at the Mid-Atlantic Conference for Irish Studies, years ago. I've placed information  about this same topic on my other blog, which can be reached by clicking on the photo to the right.  

Human beings have an inherent need to interact with one another. Yet, they often find themselves struggling with what appears to be the truth of their perceptions. This ambivalence leads to the categorizing of experiences as a way to manage personal reactions. Philosophers, such as Immanuel Kant and Carl Jung, as well as mathematicians, such as Pythagoras and Kepler, have clarified this management in terms of music, more specifically, the music of the spheres.

This concept illustrates that human communication parallels strict mathematical components associated with harmonics. To clarify the concept of harmony of the spheres, one can consider a musical tone that contains the original resonating frequency with overtones creating precise harmonic variations.

Pythagoras’ theory contained the idea that there was a distinct mathematical configuration, establishing a relationship of the harmonic distances between the planets. These harmonics were considered the substance of a planetary influence on the human psyche.

Centuries later, Johannes Kepler clarified this theory with his discovery that harmonic energy emanates from the sun, and there exists an exact harmonic relationship between each planet. Philosophers of the eighteenth century, such as Immanuel Kant, connect Kepler’s theory to the concept of human consciousness.

Thus, music of the spheres represents the harmonics of human thought whereby one idea, emanating from a human being, extends to another throughout the centuries, and overtones or nuances of thought create a new harmonic of the original conception. This new harmonic, then, resonates with another interpretation, and soon, there are many new concepts formed that connect with the original resonating thought.

A Long Sentence, Silence is.

Below is a poem inspired by a number of events involving my family and friends in which the long wait in a hospital sometimes has felt like a sentence. Waiting for word from medical staff on the outcome of a loved one leads to the mixed feelings of worry, loneliness, and hope. I wrote this as one very long sentence with the subject Silence and the verb, is because in these moments, we gain strength in the silence. 

 

Coole Park, Ireland

A Long Sentence 

While moist eyes wait

for word of your condition,

inquiring of God 

if I will experience your vibrance again,

though the response is "I don't know,"

though I smile to hide my tears,
though my heart yearns to beat

with the rhythm of your joy,

waiting

for the word that brings hope

for the song of your smiles 

for your breath of “yes”

within is the silence 

of a long sentence

and outside:

the wind,

the rain,

a lone lea,

me,

then the sun.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(To hear my reading of this poem on Pod-omatic, click HERE.)

A Steamy 'Morning' from LUMINESCENCE

One morning, the birds were in their glory: singing, chirping, and busy with their daily activities. I live in an area of Connecticut that is blessed with much beautiful greenery and wildlife. Long ago, I looked at this photograph of an abandoned canoe, and the first thing that came to mind was the tranquility of an abandoned garden on a steamy day, much like the one which is the subject of my operetta, Luminescence, an interpretation of the medieval French epyllion, Roman de la Rose. Below is an excerpt from one of the recitatives, 'Morning.'

Eugène Atget

Etang de Corot, Ville-d'Avray, 1900-1910

Morning 

(from my operetta, “Luminescence”)

The wind gracefully embraces

feathered wings of russet, crimson and blue 

that brush the highest branches of clustered trees.

Each bough gambols a synchronized dance

in rhythm with the singing birds in flight.

Their gaze intakes the scene below:

A cooling brook, purling through the twisted,

scented undergrowth, creating a reflective ribbon,

adorning this Eden with an elegant, colorful bouquet

embellishes fertile banks with mystical brilliance.

Soothing liquid-echoes honor an infinite presence.

Morning dew trickles over folded petals

and drifts down each stiffened stalk

to reach deeply into the nutritious soil.

Leaves unfurl to frame delicate flowers.

They gracefully position themselves

to receive pollen for the creation of new life

and shimmer in the morning’s glow.

Each flower silently waits

for that glorious moment of sweet surrender

in fulfillment of her quest.

As the flowers open their petals,

they attract the arrival of winged suitors,

destined to pollinate their yearning pistils.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

I extend much gratitude to the following brilliant musicians, who have transposed an Irish melody compiled by Sydney Owenson (in 1804) into 3 of 5 musical genres for this operetta: Dr. Marjorie Callaghan (medieval) and Mr. Daniel Kean (baroque and classical).

One Toothy Smile... for a Price

Photo from Google Images: 6thsenselondon.com

One Toothy Smile... for a Price

The last time I was there,

she scrubbed and scraped

poked and prodded

flossed and fussed

asked me questions

and seemed to understand

my mouth-filled speech,

draped an x-ray proof

jacket upon me

left the room

to "take pictures"

stuffed my mouth

with fluoride cotton pillows 

and with the tray,

again left the room,

called in the physician

who poked and prodded

gaped and nodded

examined the pictures

and stated quite satisfied,

“Your teeth are fine!”

Upon checking out,

the receptionist announced,

“That’ll be $400.00, please,

and would you like to make an appointment 

for 6 months from now?”

Hmmm... I thought to myself: 

"I’ll return...

when my tooth aches

more than my wallet."

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

A Quote by William Blake and Some Thoughts

I took this photo as I was leaving Galway Beach, Ireland.

“To see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower 

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour.” 

~ William Blake from "Augeries of Innocence"

Sharing Views

Whenever I traveled the Irish west coast,

listening to the waves lap up on shore,

my mind would wonder: 

"Just across that ocean 

is the east coast of the United States.

Who do I know might be sharing this view?" 

Then, along the beach at Cape Cod, 

I searched the ocean's horizon 

and wondered: "Who is looking across this sea

and possibly looking right at me?"

The blue-gray waters ebb and flow

releasing endless ruminations.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me read this, please click HERE. 

Ekphrasis: My poem, "Haven" and the Church of St. Stephen the Martyr

Today, December 26, is the Feast of Saint Stephen. 

Below is a photo of the Church of St. Stephen the Martyr in Opotiki, New Zealand. This picture brought to mind the introduction to a collection of short stories that I will complete... one day. The poem accompanying this photo is a conversion of a portion of my prose introduction to poetic form.

Church of St Stephen the Martyr, Opotiki, ca 1910-1930

"Behold, I see heaven open and the Son of man standing at the right hand of God." 

(Acts 7:56) kjv

~ St. Stephen’s words at his theophany

Haven

They beckon 

the weary-hearted and calloused,

“Come and sit with me.”

Rows of empty pews

moor at a small altar,

each one anchored with a kneeler. 

Her candle lit,
she takes her usual seat

in the second row,

hoists the kneeler, 

then quietly moves it

to the wood floor,

genuflects in the Holy Presence, 

and blesses herself.

With eyes lowered,

she steers her troubled vessel

on an ethereal air,

through prayerful sighs

to the Haven of hope,

His Almighty Promise.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

(My reading of this poem is on Pod-omatic at the bottom of this page.)

Mercy Otis Warren, Muse of the American Revolution, 1776

Painting of Mercy Otis Warren

Mercy Otis Warren, given the title by some historians of Muse of the American Revolution, is often neglected in the U.S. historical memory. However, her motivation for contributing numerous literary works on the subject of independence demonstrates virtues found in the common individual while pointing out the discrepancies in a non-representational government. In her 1773 play, The Adulateur, Warren describes the issue of individual rights through the speech of her main character, Brutus:

 

The change how drear! The sullen ghost of bondage

Stalks full in view—already with her pinions,

She shades the affrighted land—the insulting soldiers

Tread down our choicest rights; while hoodwinked justice

Drops her scales, and totters from her basis.

Thus torn with nameless wounds, my bleeding country

Demands a tear – that tear I’ll freely give her. [1]

Using the rebellious poetic format of blank verse, Warren creates an image of the capture of justice, illustrating the conception that human beings might be inherently good, but their thirst for power could cause a diminishing of spiritual truth, thus leading to contrived allegiances to governments and other forms of false leadership. 

 

We thank such brave intelligent writers as Mercy Otis Warren for their insights regarding historical perspectives of justice. 

---

[1] Mercy Otis Warren, The Adulateur, Act I, Scene I, Boston: New Printing Office, 1773.

Ode to Skunk Cabbage

The first day of Spring has passed, and I just had to submit this little ode to one of the harbingers of Spring, the Skunk Cabbage, as an illustration of the connection between artist and nature. 

                 Skunk Cabbage growing near my neighbor's pond and the flower from Google Images                                                            

Ode to Skunk Cabbage

Bursting forth from its ruddy milieu,      

it erects from its hooded spathe.

This courageous prophet boldly faces

the chilly air with unique confidence, 

guided by a mighty force.

Radiating silently, as if to say,

“Come to me, for I offer

the nourishment you need now,”

his sweetness within calls upon

the daring creature to receive its warmth.

And she responds, and she comes:

the beetle, the spider, the queen bee,

warmed by the generosity 

of Spring’s first.

Odiferous, proud, protective,

he inspires the fragrant flora

to engender beauty.

Now, Spring has arrived

with the burgeoning

of the exceptional skunk cabbage.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.

Fiddlehead Feast

Here is a poem that I revised a bit on fiddlehead ferns, another group of plants that are harbingers of Spring. I included a recipe for Fiddlehead Quiche below the poem. Bon appetit!

photo from the front garden at my home

Fiddlehead Feast

Did you happen upon the fiddlehead fern

growing in the woodland mulch,

amidst the other springing buds

like skunk cabbage, crocus and such,

unfurling its primitive merit

with vitality richly designed?

Relentlessly, I search for the fiddlehead fern;

its presence seen, not much,

but then it boldly appears to me,

and I honorably prepare it to touch

my awaiting, salivating palate

that accepts its flavor divine!

What blissful company with which to dine:

this fiddlehead fern ~ a collation so fine!

 © Jeanne I. Lakatos  

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.  

***************************************************************

YANKEE FIDDLEHEAD PIE (OR QUICHE)

Recipe by L.L. Bean Book of New England Cookery:

Serving Size : 8  

  4 Eggs

  1 c  Milk

  1 c  Fiddleheads, cooked, chopped

  2 Tbs Leeks -- chopped, cooked

  1 Tbs  Parsley, chopped -- or 2

  1 c  Cheddar cheese, mildly shredded

  Salt to taste

  1 Pie crust, partially baked, 9  or 10"

  8 Whole cooked fiddleheads

Beat the eggs with the milk until blended.  Fold in the chopped fiddleheads, leeks, and parsley, and half of the grated cheese. Season with salt to taste. Turn into the partially baked shell and sprinkle on the remaining cheese. Decorate the edge with whole fiddleheads.  Bake in a preheated 350 º oven for 40 minutes, or until set.  Let rest 10 minutes before serving.

Ballerina

This was a prompt, based on a photo by Keith Carter, which you see below. An example of ekphrasis, you will see my poetic interpretation of Carter's work. 

Ballerina

She had dreams

of becoming a ballerina

but God had other plans

even though she maintained

beauty

discipline

kinesthetic poetry 

on stage.

Up in smoke they went...

forming an obscurity

from which her Truth emerged,

clarified, revitalized:

beauty

discipline

kinesthetic poetry 

in stages.

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear my reading of this verse, please click HERE.

Gray Day

Today has been a cold, early Spring day, with a cold rain falling occasionally throughout the day. It looks like we'll be having a chilly Spring this year, but the plants, lakes, ponds, and waterfowl do need the rain, so it is welcome indeed. After finishing some daily tasks, I jotted down this verse. 

Gray Day

Awakening to a cold, gray day, 
a foggy, dreary one, 

I contemplate the daily tasks ahead.
Raindrops can't even decide if they want to
fall from the gray sky...or not. 
The lakes, ponds, and streams
have thirsty banks, 
and the Spring waterfowl 
need a place to swim, nest, live. 
So rain, come along now! 
Cold and distant as you are, 

you are greatly needed, 
and now, I welcome you.

I'll put on the tea kettle, 

make a warm supper, 

and when you're finished,

I'll take photos of the well-filled lake

with the sun reflecting its lovely glow

upon the deep waters. 

© Jeanne I. Lakatos

To hear me recite this verse, please click HERE.