#PoetryBreak: Horses by Pablo Neruda

Dreaming of Horses Running (M.A. Reilly)

Horses

by Pablo Neruda

From the window I saw the horses.

I was in Berlin, in winter. The light
had no light, the sky had no heaven.

The air was white like wet bread.

And from my window a vacant arena,
bitten by the teeth of winter.

Suddenly driven out by a man,
ten horses surged through the mist.

Like waves of fire, they flared forward
and to my eyes filled the whole world,
empty till then. Perfect, ablaze,
they were like ten gods with pure white hoofs,
with manes like a dream of salt.

Their rumps were worlds and oranges.

Their color was honey, amber, fire.

Their necks were towers
cut from the stone of pride,
and behind their transparent eyes
energy raged, like a prisoner.

There, in silence, at mid-day,
in that dirty, disordered winter,
those intense horses were the blood
the rhythm, the inciting treasure of life.

I looked. I looked and was reborn:
for there, unknowing, was the fountain,
the dance of gold, heaven
and the fire that lives in beauty.

I have forgotten that dark Berlin winter.

I will not forget the light of the horses.

The Navajo Night Way Ceremony

Night (M.A. Reilly, 2008)

The Navajo Night Way Ceremony

In beauty                                       may I walk
All day long                                    may I walk
Through the returning seasons                   may I walk
Beautifully I will possess again
Beautifully birds
Beautifully joyful birds
On the trail marked with pollen                 may I walk
With grasshoppers about my feet                 may I walk
With dew about my feet                          may I walk
With beauty                                     may I walk
With beauty before me                           may I walk
With beauty behind me                           may I walk
With beauty above me                            may I walk
With beauty all around me                       may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
                                    lively,     may I walk
In old age, wandering on a trail of beauty,
                              living again,     may I walk
It is finished in beauty
It is finished in beauty

To This Day Project - Collaboration to Confront Bullying

A most compelling video about the lasting effects of bullying recast as a spoken poem with outstanding animation.

Imagining A to Z: U is for Unlearn Master Myths

The Hob, Plymouth England (iPhone)

U is for Unlearn Master Myths

Keri Facer (2011) defines myth as that which

"comes to act as an unquestioned cultural resource, to function as a dominating narrative that allows educators, policy-makers, parents and designers, without too much reflection, to make decisions and take action in the present" (Kindle Locations 240-242).

Roland Barthes (1957) tells us that myth is

"a type of speech...a system of communication...Myth is not defined by the object of its message, but by the way it utters this message" (p. 107).

James Gee (1996) describes master myths as prevalent stories we have internalized as truths, as the way it is, as what is normal.

Such mythologies are influential in our lives. They shape what we think is possible and not; truthful or false, and normal and abnormal. 

The imagination, oddly enough, may be limited by these mythologies that tells  us how to behave, how to be.  Last week I was in England and one of the things I wanted to do was to make images of people playing 'on the street'.  I did not want to capture images of organized play (football, etc.).  I spent a good portion of two days roaming about looking and I found just three accounts of public play:

• three boys on skateboards
• an elderly couple and their dog and a ball
• a mom and two small children each with a scooter

One of the master myths we live with is that as we age and mature we become more respectable, less likely to be silly, playful or messy--especially in public.  This myth makes me wonder how such a truth limits our imagination. For example, a friend tells me that she grew up in a home where making visual art was not done because it caused too much of  a mess.

"I couldn't leave anything out. Everything had to be put away right after playing. Our house had to be presentable at all times in case someone dropped in."

Not only did the house have to be presentable, but I imagine the inhabitants, especially girls and women needed to be presentable, neat, pretty at all times.

Take a look at the mythologies in this older advertisement aimed at girls. What is suggested as 'normal'? How is cleanliness and beauty aligned?



Or take a look at this more recent commercial:



Why is being clean situated as critical, essential?



So today I am wondering about what myths I need to unlearn?  I'm wondering which ones get in the way of creating? Imagining? Being?



Note: In this series of post during the month of April, I am participating in the A to Z blogging challenge, with each day focusing on a letter.  In order to bring some cohesion to this process--releasing the imagination is the focus of each post.