Thursday, December 23, 2010

Significant Moments: Seasonal Thoughts -- I'm Dreaming of a White Manuscript Page

Albert Rothenberg, M.D. first described or discovered a process he termed "homospatial thinking," which consists of actively conceiving two or more discrete entities occupying the same space, a conception leading to the articulation of new identities. Homospatial thinking has a salient role in the creative process in the following wide variety of fields: literature, the visual arts, music, science, and mathematics. This cognitive factor, along with "Janusian thinking," clarifies the nature of creative thinking as a highly adaptive and primarily nonregressive form of functioning.

A section of my book Significant Moments discusses the receipt by Richard and Cosima Wagner of a copy of a manuscript: the text of Friedrich Nietzsche's first book, The Birth of Tragedy.  This section describes a carriage ride by the Wagners through the snow.  The snow is actually a metaphor for blank manuscript pages.  Riding through the snow is a metaphor for the act of writing.  The phrase "Opening a path for yourself" refers simultaneously to the act of opening a book and the act of riding through newly fallen snow.  The phrase "the right path seems lost" refers to both the problem of "writer's block" and getting lost during a journey.  The lines from Robert Frost's poem "And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep." suggests symbolically the act of a writer working on a manuscript into the wee hours of the morning.  Compare GW's initial psychiatric assessment chart about me:  "Lately, he has been feeling very motivated. He has been writing his thoughts up to the wee hours of the morning and feels less need for sleep."

Arrival of Prof. Nietzsche's book.
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Wednesday, January 3, 1872).
I looked at it . . .
Jules Verne, A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
. . . turned over idly pages of . . .
James Joyce, Ulysses.
. . . it with curiosity . . .
Jules Verne, A Journey to the Center of the Earth.
It was eloquent, vibrating with eloquence, but too high-strung, I think.
Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness.
What of it, though?
Robert Frost, Excerpt from Lucretius Versus the Lake Poets.
On January 2, 1872, Nietzsche sent Wagner an . . .
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
. . . uncut . . .
Italo Calvino, If on a winter’s night a traveler.
. . . advance copy of his book, now entitled The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music, as a "token of goodwill and friendship." Many of the ideas to which Wagner had undoubtedly given livelier expression in conversation [with Nietzsche] than in his essays on art . . . recurred in an intensified and spiritualized form in Nietzsche's sublime prose.
Martin Gregor-Dellin, Richard Wagner: His Life, His Work, His Century.
Let's see how it begins.
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler.
I suppose . . . I could paraphrase
Gilbert K. Chesterton, The Innocence of Father Brown.
No, no; wait!
Henry James, The Turn of the Screw.
“He . . . ”
Douglas R. Hofstadter and Daniel C. Dennett, The Mind’s I: Fantasies and Reflections on Self and Soul.
. . . can say in his own words, much better, what I as his ambassador in my enthusiasm might only hint at:
Siegfried Hessing, Prologue with Sinozana—Parallels via East and West.
It was in dreams, says Lucretius, that the glorious divine figures first appeared to the souls of men; in dreams the great shaper beheld the splendid bodies of superhuman beings; and the Hellenic poet, if questioned about the mysteries of poetic inspiration, would likewise have suggested dreams and he might have given an explanation like that of Hans Sachs in the Meistersinger . . .
Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy.
“This is the book I have been longing for,” says R.—
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Saturday, January 6, 1872).
Opening a path for yourself, . . .
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler.
. . . with a paper-knife . . .
Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit.
. . . in the barrier of . . .
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler.
. . . strange pages of . . .
James Joyce, Ulysses.
. . . virgin manuscript . . .
V. Penelope Pelizzon, Human Field.
. . . becomes linked with the thoughts of how much the word contains and conceals: you cut your way through your reading as if through a dense forest.
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler.
Where now?
James Joyce, Ulysses.
Drove into town, home with R., . . .
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Thursday, January 4, 1872).
. . . through . . .
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler.
. . . fog, darkness, and snow, . . .
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Thursday, January 4, 1872).
We both felt . . .
Charles Dickens, Bleak House.
. . . dazed, contemplating that whiteness . . .
Italo Calvino, If on a winter's night a traveler.
. . . as if each of us were hypnotized . . .
R.D. Laing, The Politics of the Family.
. . . looking fixedly at . . .
Charles Dickens, Bleak House.
. . . blank manuscript pages . . .
Patrick Kavanaugh, The Spiritual Lives of the Great Composers.
I at last . . .
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Thursday, June 3, 1869).
. . . a blanket to my chin . . .
Robert Frost, Excerpt from An Unstamped Letter in Our Rural Letter Box.
. . . thought of the times when I lived here against all the rules like a dream figure, and when this landscape seemed so appropriate.
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Thursday, January 4, 1872).
Not till we are lost, in other words not till we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realize where we are and the infinite extent of our relations.
Henry David Thoreau, Walden.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Robert Frost, Excerpt from Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.
What does it mean? Why this:
Morris Bishop, Petrarch.
In the middle of the journey . . .
Leonard Garment, Crazy Rhythm.
. . . in long winter nights . . .
Richard Wagner, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg.
. . . we find ourselves in dark woods where the right path seems lost. But even so melancholy a poet saw for a prophetic moment that at the end of the confusion . . .
Leonard Garment, Crazy Rhythm.
. . . in the rosy light of morning . . .
Richard Wagner, Die Meistersinger von Nurnberg.
. . . there is sometimes a clearing in whose sunlight things appear more distinct and precious than ever before.
Leonard Garment, Crazy Rhythm.
Can you conceive what new and vital power I draw from living in the wilderness?
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Faust.
Returning home . . .
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Wednesday, March 6, 1872).
. . . I felt as if I had come out of a bleak, harsh woods into a cozy lair.
Janet Malcolm, Psychoanalysis: The Impossible Profession.
—In the evening read more of Nietzsche's book, which gives R. ever-increasing satisfaction, but we wonder where the public for it will be found.
Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Thursday, January 4, 1872).
On my way upstairs to bed I stopped to . . .
Josh Short, The Workers All Call Daddy Cap’n.
. . . sit on my spiral staircase and reflect, reflect, until the mildness of my thoughts lulls and calms me; and then from downstairs I hear music:
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Tuesday, September 30, 1879).
I was lost, so to speak, in the milky way.
James Joyce, Ulysses.
Only within. Inside the brain
Robert Frost, Excerpt from An Unstamped Letter in Our Rural Letter Box.
An indescribable impression—
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Tuesday, July 8, 1879).
All my senses now want to sink into slumber.
Hermann Hesse, Excerpt from Going to Sleep (Poem set to music by Richard Strauss).
Winter’s revenant invites you into it, and there you lie while the bleached sheet . . .
V. Penelope Pelizzon, Human Field.
. . . of snow accumulating . . .
Kelly and Rich Willis, Glass Ceiling: trekkers battle frostbite, storms and exhaustion in their quest to reach the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro.
. . . just beyond the window pane . . .
Angel Xuan Chang, A Ghost Outside My Window.
. . . translates you to an angel in a solitary bed.
V. Penelope Pelizzon, Human Field.
In the meantime Richard comes up and shows me . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Wednesday, January 20, 1869).
. . . a really beautiful letter, a poem in itself, . . .
James Joyce, Ulysses.
. . . which he has written to . . .
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Friday, October 27, 1876).
. . . the professor . . .
James Joyce, Ulysses.
. . . telling him what he thinks of the book and its author.
Cosima Wagner’s Diaries (Thursday, January 18, 1872).

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