23

The Unexpected

Edward Curtin

Despite calendars and clocks and all the mental gymnastics we use to control life and time, surprises are at the heart of existence.  This may seem like a truism, but if so, it is one of those truths we often avoid in our desire for stability and the quelling of anxiety.

Our expectations, a form of knowledge based on the past, are efforts to avoid pain and the joy of the new.  They are often scarecrows to frighten away reality, as Ortega y Gassett put it.  Habits of mind meant to forget that life is an experiment yet to be tried or known; that tomorrow is always unknown country.  That death is the greatest surprise of all.

The English psychoanalyst Adam Philips writes in Side Effects:

The fact of death has made us addicted to prophecy, and to its secular equivalent, predictability; and therefore to a strange relationship to time. The fact of conception could make us more wedded to randomness and accident [I would say mystery]. Surprise could replace mourning as our preferred depth-charge.

I was thinking of this recently when I awoke to read about an outstanding professional athlete who was injured at the top of his game the night before.  A shock to be sure, disappointing and depressing, yet not unheard of in the world of sports.  He ruptured his Achilles tendon.  Now his rehabilitation will offer him a chance to embrace the challenge and meditate on the vagaries of life.  Sometimes we discover in difficult circumstances that courage and determination are central to our characters, as I think is the case with this young man who has overcome other challenges.

Sports in themselves are not important.  They are fun to play and are big business, but who wins or loses the games doesn’t matter in any significant way.  They are forgettable trifles, and as the word sport’s etymology tells us – desporter (Old French from Latin), to divert, amuse, carry away – they divert us from more serious matters.  And while they can amuse and entertain us, they can also get us to muse about the nature of play and the significance of surprises along life’s way.  How life itself is a play, in many meanings of the word.

Key to Freud’s genius, much of which he learned from the poets who understood that the free flow of words was a key to human liberation, was his invention of the therapeutic method of free association.  To freely associate is to open one’s mouth to hear yourself say the unexpected. It is to step out of the cage of convention, to exit that play to play at catching a different form of consciousness. The possibility of freedom inherent in Freud’s idea is no doubt one reason why he has come under continual attack in recent decades.  Nor is it an accident that we are living at a time when free speech is under assault by all shades of authoritarians who fear what people might say and whom they may associate with.  Freedom is dangerous.  Individuals, not just in psychotherapy but in social life, need to talk freely but are often fearful to do so.  They may surprise themselves privately and publicly, and that is why speech must be controlled by the authorities, those outside and the cop inside.

It is also why great artists are in short supply today and art is under assault, for great art threatens safety while always venturing into unknown territory.  To think that a book is brilliant because The New York Times calls it a bestseller – which seems to be the case for most new books on library shelves these days – is as naïve as to consider that newspaper of record a bastion of good journalism.

It is hard when caged in cells controlled by authoritarians to encounter the unexpected.  Formulaic writing of all sorts is widespread. It is part of a larger spell of total and instantaneous propaganda and a movement for elite social control under the guise of social improvement.  What we euphemistically call mass communication is mass seduction, and the desire to be seduced is one old truth that still holds popular appeal.

Historically it has always been the poets, essayists, and novelists who have led the way into a freer world.  While it is still true, to find their voices amid the cacophony of today’s comingling of repetitive political, show business, and advertising rants is difficult. They have been marginalized, as have journalists who counter the propaganda of the corporate mainstream media.  All has become show, the business of creating perpetual distractions from what is important.

“The modern version of hell is purposelessness,” wrote the English novelist John Fowles in a brilliant essay accompanying photographs of individual trees in an oddly titled book about trees, The Tree.  While ostensibly writing about trees, Fowles writes about the need to get lost, to literally wander through the green chaos of forests and the mental greenwood of our psyches without a planned route – purposeless.

He writes about art and the art of life as analogous to wandering through a dense woodland and stumbling in wonder upon a hidden treasure, something akin to Tolstoy’s green stick that contains the secret to happiness, no matter how brief.  He argues that it is because so much of the natural surround is useless that there is so much hostility toward it.  Everything and everyone has become commodified, and only valued for their use value.

Science, as opposed to art, seeks to categorize and control us and nature; to impose on our minds the idea that nature is outside us, separate, alien territory to enter only with a map and shield.  The wild green man or woman, open to the flow of experience, to wandering, to the serendipitous, the unexpected is a dangerous outlaw.  That the woods have long represented places of freedom to our ancestors in fact and in fiction is not just because life was more rural then but because the wild world hidden among trees corresponds to needs of the soul.  Fowles compares trees, the woods, walking planless through them, as the best analogue of prose fiction:

All novels are also, in some way, exercises in attaining freedom – even when, at an extreme, they deny the possibility of its existence. Some such process of retreat from the normal world – however much the theme and surface is to be of the normal world – is inherent in any act of artistic creation, let alone that specific kind of writing that deals in imaginary situations and characters. And a part of that retreat must always be into a ‘wild,’ or ordinarily repressed and socially hidden, self: into a place always a complexity beyond daily reality, never fully comprehensible or explicable, always more potential than realized; yet where no one will ever penetrate as far as we have. It is our passage, our mystery alone, however miserable the account that is brought out for the world to see or hear or read at second-hand.

I would say it is also the best analogue of living.  Sitting still too much is the real sin against the Holy Ghost, said Nietzsche, who was a great walker “on lonely mountains or near the sea where even the trails become thoughtful.”  And he was not alone.  Thoreau, Rimbaud, D. H. Lawrence, Rousseau, Gandhi, et al. knew that only by getting off your ass and putting it behind you might you discover something new, an unexpected treasure only available to an outsider with no expectations, no plans, having relinquished control.

Speaking of control and planning, even with the best intentions, I am reminded of a lake with a little beach opposite woods up the hill from where we live and often walk.

Since September 11, 2001 this town has been massively gentrified with mansions and upscale stores and venues. It has become a magnet for wealthy urbanites who have fled in fear from the New York/New Jersey area to this small town 130 miles north.  Now the small rustic beach with its bumpy dirt parking lot and the road along the lake are being converted into a replica of all the imitative city greenways that have sprouted up across the country.

Huge numbers of trees have been felled, an expanded asphalt parking lot is being constructed, and the road converted from cars to walkers, leading from the town’s choice neighborhood on the hill.  This construction project is symbolically creating a gated community without a fence.  Anyone having to drive to the beach will have to come from the other direction to the parking lot, directing all car traffic through that poorer neighborhood and part of town.

All this in the name of saving the lake and making life better for the locals.  But better primarily for wealthier residents, who now will have their own one way access to the area and much less traffic passing their way.

It is a good example of what Philip Slater wrote about in his 1970 book, The Pursuit of Loneliness: American Culture at the Breaking Point.  Slater was writing about the rise of totalitarian tendencies in the U.S. as the U.S savagely bombed Vietnam and Cambodia [read Iraq, Gaza, Yemen, Syria, Russia, etc.], when the fear of the poor was widespread and wealth and power idolized, consumerism reigned supreme, and privatization was being carried out under the benevolent mask of an inchoate neo-liberalism that has since become a full-fledged monster.  And he was holding a mirror up to the grim monotony of American facial expressions [read masks] – hard, surly, and bitter – and by the aura of deprivation that informs them.”

Central to this was the fanatical acquisitiveness of his compatriots and the fading of stable local neighborhoods where different social classes could flourish together.  “It is difficult to become reaccustomed to seeing people already weighted down with possessions acting as if every object they did not own were bread withheld from a hungry mouth,” he wrote, upon returning from overseas.

Deep-rooted social problems were being avoided by being flushed away under the guise of superficial improvements – what he called “the toilet assumption”: “the notion that unwanted matter, unwanted difficulties and obstacles will disappear if they are removed from our immediate field of vision.”

In the name of social control, the country was coming apart.  As is true now, the prettification of social spaces was serving as an unintentional pursuit of loneliness where the wealthy sophisticates and the “deplorables” would occupy separate worlds and their separate symbols [read Trump and Biden] would engage them in heated pseudo-debates.

What is our Achilles’s Heel?

I suggest it is our rupture from nature symbolized in our efforts to control experience through planning.  In Goethe’s Faust this is flipped so that Goethe’s ultimate salvation and happy ending is tied to his land reclamation project from the sea – engineering – and the conquest of nature.

While such planning obviously has its place, it has become a modern paradigm that serves as a solution to so many of life’s problems [technological fixes] and a hedge against surprising discoveries.  Only when one is willing to get lost, can one stumble upon Tolstoy’s green stick of happiness and discover truths that authoritarians try to deny us.

The poet’s truth, as always.

Terra Incognito

By DH Lawrence

There are vast realms of consciousness still undreamed of
vast ranges of experience, like the humming of unseen harps,
we know nothing of, within us.
Oh when man has escaped from the barbed-wire entanglement
of his own ideas and his own mechanical devices
there is a marvellous rich world of contact and sheer fluid beauty
and fearless face-to-face awareness of now-naked life
and me, and you, and other men and women
and grapes, and ghouls, and ghosts and green moonlight
and ruddy-orange limbs stirring the limbo
of the unknown air, and eyes so soft
softer than the space between the stars,
and all things, and nothing, and being and not-being
alternately palpitant,
when at last we escape the barbed-wire enclosure
of Know Thyself, knowing we can never know,
we can but touch, and wonder, and ponder, and make our effort
and dangle in a last fastidious fine delight
as the fuchsia does, dangling her reckless drop
of purple after so much putting forth
and slow mounting marvel of a little tree.

Edward Curtin is an independent writer whose work has appeared widely over many years. His website is edwardcurtin.com and his new book is Seeking Truth in a Country of Lies.

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Timothy Wallace Seekings
Timothy Wallace Seekings
Feb 16, 2024 8:00 AM

btw, the above quoted author is spelled “Adam Phillips” with two “l”.

Zbyszek
Zbyszek
Feb 14, 2024 7:50 AM

We’re not living in real nature anymore and that’s the reason for naive and childish approach idealizing nature, surprise and getting lost. Of course you may find a treasure while being lost. You may find your and others suffering, demise and disaster too including death.

We need unpredictability and freedom, but not as totally random actions, choices and experiences.We suffer not because of our desire for predictability, but for our desire for control reality, because we want to play God.

None deny the Author to think completely freely. Author presents the same crave for control of reality as others, he thinks that reality is not as it should be. He wants reality to be different, because right now it’s wrong, evil, not ‘as it should be’.

And there’s a hope that ppl given free choice will choose right instead of wrong, Wisdom instead of stupidity. It’s the idea that totalitarian regimes was born by force and coercion not by free choice.

There are limitless possibilities for human being to act, to be. We explore them by trying what is not known, in terms of being aware of it. But it’s NOT a completely free choice, cause if it is, than maybe let’s build a New Normal, it’s just such new experience.

Antonym
Antonym
Feb 14, 2024 2:51 AM

The ones who will be stunned by “the unexpected” are the AI led WEF types.

Example: the Pakistani elections last week were “100%” rigged to get the military approved duo PML-N & PPP in power; the leader of the opposition Imran Khan was convicted to 3x jail for twenty years 3 weeks ago. Election result : 75% of voters went for the jail bird, so post election rigging had to be switched on midnight – remember Biden’s “election”?

More to come everywhere.

jack biec
jack biec
Feb 13, 2024 7:09 AM

Quantum mechanics teaches us that the physical world is manifest from a unified all-pervading subatomic field of potential, it is existing everywhere in the universe (see Quantum Field Theory). That unifying ground of being is spoken about by the ancient esoteric traditions as the Monad, The Absolute, The One, all referring to the origin and unifying source of all things — also called Brahman in Vedanta. Brahman or The One is said in the esoteric traditions, east and west, to exist as the active agency inherent within matter. In people that agency is called nous, the mind and intellect, by western traditions, in Vedanta it’s called antaryamin, meaning inner regulator. From The Secret Teaching of All Ages

George Mc
George Mc
Feb 13, 2024 7:09 AM

Most idiotic “news” item yet from the BBC:

“What does Taylor mania mean for the globe?…
Taylor Swift: Inside a world-first ‘Swiftposium’ academic summit”

George Mc
George Mc
Feb 13, 2024 7:22 AM
Reply to  George Mc

We meet Dr Carroll, “now touted as the only person in the world with a PhD on the superstar”. An obvious nothing burger.

“Her assessment? “At the moment, it wouldn’t be going too far to say [Swift] is one of the most powerful people in the world.”

Swift – our pop hero for the masses who is “the great hope” … for furthering whatever the elite want.

“Hero”? Nay, it seems she has “Godlike influence”!

Paul
Paul
Feb 13, 2024 6:18 PM
Reply to  George Mc

She?

les online
les online
Feb 13, 2024 6:43 AM

I dont know if we live in a simulation, could be, but i do
know that everyone i talk to these days comes across as
a marketing campaign speaking Advertising-ese…
The most photographed generations ever, is that why
Debord called us ‘The Society of The Spectacle’ ?

mgeo
mgeo
Feb 13, 2024 4:38 AM

Even an specific antibiotic could rupture the Achilles tendon, at least about 10 years back. It may well be that a certain leading agency responsible for certifying medicines (that other governments then blindly follow) has since delegitimised it.

Mass communication is not just seduction. It is both persuasion and intimidation.

“Sitting still too much” is the biggest harm you can do, apart from consuming fake food and medicines, but there is no profit in pointing that out to you, unless it is to sell you something related to fitness.

Most people in small towns, who are not wealthy, have much bigger problems than quick access to a car park. They are starved of basic facilities including government ones. Alternatively, a factory, mine or highway comes up close to their homes.

sandy
sandy
Feb 12, 2024 8:41 PM

You’ve convinced me to read Lawrence.

On the other side, one of the most enlightening events I’ve ever attended was an Art & Science Symposium at Otis Art Institute in Los Angeles 1978 or 79. Robert Irwin, a light artist, was one of the clearest minds i have ever heard speak. Back then, before me-me-me-ism greased the skids of Thatcher-Reagan privatization psychosis, science largely was real science where exploration, discovery, truth and new knowledge were the intent of being a part of the discipline. The discussions those few days at the symposium pointed out the similarities of visual artist’s intent with that of scientists and visa versa. Since that time, Science and the visual Art World have been taken over almost completely by money, capitalism and hegemonic corporate control to produce profit. A dark ages we now have snap out of, before it’s too late.

Martin Usher
Martin Usher
Feb 12, 2024 7:24 PM

Science can’t be separated from life and art because everything we create requires an understanding of science to be able to realize that creation. This understanding might be purely empirical in the sense of a potter knowing the properties of clay or a painter knowing the properties of paint without knowing the underlying mechanisms that cause materials to behave as they do but its still the genus of science. The real difference lies in quantification — putting numbers on things. This is the key to control and prediction, understanding and so utilizing patterns to cause desired outcomes.

I would contend that distancing oneself from science is an illusion, a cop out that itself can be artfully molded to create outcomes. Like all outcomes these may be subjectively desirable or undesirable so the question becomes one of determining whether one wants to be in control or to be controlled.

I think human understanding comes in waves rather than making steady progress. We saw glimpses of enlightenment in the 1970s when the fallout from Vietnam and its political scandals merged with an awareness of things like racial and class discrimination, environmental despoilation and the like to generate a gradual shift in mindset in a large chunk of Western society. This was pushed back rather strongly in what in retrospect seems a calculated series of moves based on a directed strategy which we know as “the Thatcher Revolution” or its analog in the US with Reagan. This used the lure of a hedonistic, materialistic culture to seduce people (plus a level of deindustrialization and a bogus ‘war on drugs’ to coerce those who refused the Soma) while the underpinnings of enlightenment — security — were pulled from under them. The result is a society that’s unable to function as a society, its a bunch of individuals (“There is no such thing as Society”) that are are easy to manipulate and control. (Whether or not this will work long term is debatable because its untenable but I figure that’s why change comes in waves.)

Penelope
Penelope
Feb 12, 2024 6:17 PM

One way to uncage the future is to TALK about solutions presently unthinkable– like the desirability of redistributing the assets and means of production so unjustly held by TPTB.
Quite amazingly that which enters public discourse becomes possible. 

mgeo
mgeo
Feb 13, 2024 4:49 AM
Reply to  Penelope

I suggest something much less ambitious: stop the parasites from
:- rigging industry, commerce and public facilities
:- expanding government
:- infringing on expression and rights.

Remember the brutality towards “non-essential” businesses and employees during the covid outrage. Remember that “democratic” governments are still lying through their teeth about the outrage of the covid jab.

Totalitarianism
Totalitarianism
Feb 12, 2024 5:06 PM

They are forgettable trifles, and as the word sport’s etymology tells us – desporter (Old French from Latin), to divert, amuse, carry away – they divert us from more serious matters. And while they can amuse and entertain us, they can also get us to muse about the nature of play and the significance of surprises along life’s way. How life itself is a play, in many meanings of the word.

How life itself is a play, in many meanings of the word. Or are we getting our lives played.

Erik Nielsen
Erik Nielsen
Feb 12, 2024 4:55 PM

So that means we should be prepared for SADS at any moment and live in the very minute on our day trip to Rocky mountain.

Why are we here then, every day looking into OffG’s articles with open mouth and big woolly eyes?  🤔 
Ohhh yes, we are afraid of the virus. Virus X. Coming to our neighbourhood.

Veri Tas
Veri Tas
Feb 12, 2024 10:36 PM
Reply to  Erik Nielsen

No-one here’s afraid of the virus; we’re afraid of those who are afraid of the virus.
And we’re afraid of those who will be telling the story about the virus.

Paul
Paul
Feb 13, 2024 6:21 PM
Reply to  Veri Tas

Don’t be afraid.

Monti
Monti
Feb 12, 2024 4:05 PM

Nice article. Wonderful to see someone referencing Lawrence again. One of the most awakened spirits to have ever walked on the earth, in my humble opinion. Thank you, Mr. Curtin.

Johnny
Johnny
Feb 12, 2024 8:30 AM

Les Murray:

The Meaning of Existence:

‘Everything except language
knows the meaning of existence.
Trees, planets, rivers, time
know nothing else. They express it
moment by moment as the universe.

Even this fool of a body
lives it in part, and would
have full dignity within it
but for the ignorant freedom
of my talking mind.‘

An Absolutely Ordinary Rainbow:

The word goes round Repins,
the murmur goes round Lorenzinis,
at Tattersalls, men look up from sheets of numbers,
the Stock Exchange scribblers forget the chalk in their hands
and men with bread in their pockets leave the Greek Club:
There’s a fellow crying in Martin Place. They can’t stop him.

The traffic in George Street is banked up for half a mile
and drained of motion. The crowds are edgy with talk
and more crowds come hurrying. Many run in the back streets
which minutes ago were busy main streets, pointing:
There’s a fellow weeping down there. No one can stop him.

The man we surround, the man no one approaches
simply weeps, and does not cover it, weeps
not like a child, not like the wind, like a man
and does not declaim it, nor beat his breast, nor even
sob very loudly – yet the dignity of his weeping

holds us back from his space, the hollow he makes about him
in the midday light, in his pentagram of sorrow,
and uniforms back in the crowd who tried to seize him
stare out at him, and feel, with amazement, their minds
longing for tears as children for a rainbow.

Some will say, in the years to come, a halo
or force stood around him. There is no such thing.
Some will say they were shocked and would have stopped him
but they will not have been there. The fiercest manhood,
the toughest reserve, the slickest wit amongst us

trembles with silence, and burns with unexpected
judgements of peace. Some in the concourse scream
who thought themselves happy. Only the smallest children
and such as look out of Paradise come near him
and sit at his feet, with dogs and dusty pigeons.

Ridiculous, says a man near me, and stops
his mouth with his hands, as if it uttered vomit –
and I see a woman, shining, stretch her hand
and shake as she receives the gift of weeping;
as many as follow her also receive it

and many weep for sheer acceptance, and more
refuse to weep for fear of all acceptance,
but the weeping man, like the earth, requires nothing, the man who weeps ignores us, and cries out
of his writhen face and ordinary body

not words, but grief, not messages, but sorrow,
hard as the earth, sheer, present as the sea –
and when he stops, he simply walks between us
mopping his face with the dignity of one
man who has wept, and now has finished weeping.

Evading believers, he hurries off down Pitt Street.

underground poet
underground poet
Feb 12, 2024 12:15 PM
Reply to  Johnny

Yet it was language that extended existence.

Binra
Binra
Feb 12, 2024 9:33 PM

The Word that comes out of the mouth,
gives as it receives.
‘Yet those who knows not what they do’,
attack their own shadows.
In everything they see,Instead of truth revealing.

Sal P
Sal P
Feb 13, 2024 4:48 AM
Reply to  Johnny

Very good poems. I had never heard of Les Murray. Will be checking him out. Thanks.

Johnny
Johnny
Feb 13, 2024 11:18 PM
Reply to  Sal P

An Aussie wordsmith, politically Conservative but a fine poet.