The poet Stephen Dunn wrote a series of poems on Sisyphus, that old Greek cursed by the gods to forever roll a boulder uphill, never to reach the top, never to rest, only endless struggle with no future change or end. Life feels like that. Our endless numbing days of rot and habit. The solution to time's curse ? It is ritual.
As an Orthodox Christian I try to follow the liturgical calendar, referencing days to events in the life of Christ, bodily entering the rhythms of His life. Mircea Eliade wrote about how myth and ritual redeemed "the implacable becoming that leads toward death" :
"The defense against Time which is revealed to us in every kind of mythological attitude, but which is, in fact, inseparable from the human condition, reappears variously disguised in the modern world, but above all in its distractions, its amusements.
It is here that one sees what a radical difference there is between modern cultures and other civilizations. In all traditional societies, every responsible action reproduced its mythical, transhuman model, and consequently took place in sacred time.
Dunn captures this well in his poem,
SISYPHUS’S ACCEPTANCE
These days only he could see the rock,
so when he stopped for a bagel
at the bagel store, then for a newspaper
at one of those coin-operated stalls,
he looked like anyone else
on his way to work. Food—
the gods reasoned—
would keep him alive
to suffer, and news of the world
could only make him feel worse.
Let him think he has choices;
he belongs to us.
Rote not ritual, a repetition
which never would mean more
at the end than at the start . . .
Sisyphus pushed his rock
past the aromas of bright flowers,
through the bustling streets
into the plenitude and vacuity,
every arrival the beginning
of a familiar descent. And sleep
was the cruelest respite;
at some murky bottom of himself
the usual muck rising up.
One morning, however, legs hurting,
the sun beating down,
again weighing the quick calm of suicide
against this punishment that passed for life,
Sisyphus smiled.
It was the way a gambler smiles
when he finally decides to fold
in order to stay alive
for another game, a smile
so inward it cannot be seen.
The gods sank back
in their airy chairs. Sisyphus sensed
he’d taken something from them,
more on his own than ever now.
Another thing about secular time, it is cursed. It is cursed because it is free. It has no form to contain spirit. We can do whatever we wish, even as it destroys us.
In his poem Sisyphus's Affair, he imagines the cursed Greek cheating on his wife, a portion reads :
For a moment he longed for the old days
when there were gods to take offense,
As an Orthodox Christian I try to follow the liturgical calendar, referencing days to events in the life of Christ, bodily entering the rhythms of His life. Mircea Eliade wrote about how myth and ritual redeemed "the implacable becoming that leads toward death" :
"The defense against Time which is revealed to us in every kind of mythological attitude, but which is, in fact, inseparable from the human condition, reappears variously disguised in the modern world, but above all in its distractions, its amusements.
It is here that one sees what a radical difference there is between modern cultures and other civilizations. In all traditional societies, every responsible action reproduced its mythical, transhuman model, and consequently took place in sacred time.
Labour, handicrafts, war and love were all sacraments. The re-living of that which the Gods and Heroes had lived in illo tempore imparted a sacramental aspect to human existence, which was complemented by the sacramental nature ascribed to life and to the Cosmos.
By thus opening out into the Great Time, this sacramental existence, poor as it night often be, was nevertheless rich in significance; at all events it was not under the tyranny of Time. The true ‘fall into Time’ begins with the secularization of work.
By thus opening out into the Great Time, this sacramental existence, poor as it night often be, was nevertheless rich in significance; at all events it was not under the tyranny of Time. The true ‘fall into Time’ begins with the secularization of work.
It is only in modern societies that man feels himself to be the prisoner of his daily work, in which he can never escape from Time. And since he can no longer ‘kill’ time during his working hours—that is, while he is expressing his real social identity—he strives to get away from Time in his hours of leisure: hence the bewildering number of distractions invented by modern civilization…
The ‘fall into Time’ becomes confused with the secularization of work and the consequent mechanization of existence, and the only escape that remains possible upon the collective plane is distraction."
Dunn captures this well in his poem,
SISYPHUS’S ACCEPTANCE
These days only he could see the rock,
so when he stopped for a bagel
at the bagel store, then for a newspaper
at one of those coin-operated stalls,
he looked like anyone else
on his way to work. Food—
the gods reasoned—
would keep him alive
to suffer, and news of the world
could only make him feel worse.
Let him think he has choices;
he belongs to us.
Rote not ritual, a repetition
which never would mean more
at the end than at the start . . .
Sisyphus pushed his rock
past the aromas of bright flowers,
through the bustling streets
into the plenitude and vacuity,
every arrival the beginning
of a familiar descent. And sleep
was the cruelest respite;
at some murky bottom of himself
the usual muck rising up.
One morning, however, legs hurting,
the sun beating down,
again weighing the quick calm of suicide
against this punishment that passed for life,
Sisyphus smiled.
It was the way a gambler smiles
when he finally decides to fold
in order to stay alive
for another game, a smile
so inward it cannot be seen.
The gods sank back
in their airy chairs. Sisyphus sensed
he’d taken something from them,
more on his own than ever now.
Another thing about secular time, it is cursed. It is cursed because it is free. It has no form to contain spirit. We can do whatever we wish, even as it destroys us.
In his poem Sisyphus's Affair, he imagines the cursed Greek cheating on his wife, a portion reads :
For a moment he longed for the old days
when there were gods to take offense,
when a man who wanted too much
would be reduced to size
with a life-long redundancy or thunderbolt.
But, no, there’d be nothing so neat.
It came to a choice, and he chose everything.
He left almost everything behind.
would be reduced to size
with a life-long redundancy or thunderbolt.
But, no, there’d be nothing so neat.
It came to a choice, and he chose everything.
He left almost everything behind.
No comments:
Post a Comment