The Horse

from Song of Myself 

by Walt Witman 1855

I think I could turn and live with animals, 

they are so placid and self-contained, 

I stand and look at them 

long and long. 

They do not sweat and whine about their condition, 

They do not lie awake in the dark 

and weep for their sins, 

They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, 

No one is dissatisfied, 

not one is demented with the mania of owning things, 

Not one kneels to another, 

nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, 

Not one is respectable or unhappy 

over the whole earth… 

A gigantic beauty of a stallion, fresh and responsive to my caresses, 

Head high in the forehead, wide between the ears, 

Limbs glossy and supple, tail dusting the ground, 

Eyes full of sparkling wickedness, ears finally cut, flexibly moving. 

His nostrils dilate as my heels embrace him, 

His well- built limbs tremble with pleasure 

as we race around and return.

from The Horse

by Frances Ponge

translated by Beth Archer

Many times the size of a man, 

the horse has flaring nostrils, 

round eyes under half closed lids, 

cocked ears and long muscular neck. 

The tallest of man’s domestic animals, 

and truly his designated mount,

Man, somewhat lost on an elephant, 

is at his best on a horse, 

truly a throne to his measure. 

Ah, the horse is also – does man suspect it?—-something else besides!

He is impatience nostrilized. 

His weapons are running, baiting, bucking.

He seems to have a keen nose, 

keen ears, and very sensitive eyes. 

The greatest tribute one can pay him

 is having to fit him with blinders. 

But no weapon… 

Whereby the temptation to add one. 

One only. 

A horn. 

Thereby the unicorn.

The horse, terribly nervous, is aerophagous. 

Hyper sensitive, he clamps his jaws, 

holds his breath, 

then releases it, making the walls 

of his nasal cavities vibrate loudly. 

That is why this noble beast, 

who feeds on air and grass alone, 

produces only straw turds and 

thunderous fragrant farts. 

Fragrant thunderisms. 

What am I saying, feeds on air? 

Gets drunk on it. 

Sniffs it, savers it, snorts it. 

He rushes into it, shakes his mane in it, 

kicks up his hind legs in it. 

He would eventually like to fly up in it. 

The flight of clouds inspires him, 

urges him to imitation. 

He does imitate it: he tosses, prances… 

And when the whips lightning claps, 

the clouds gallop faster 

and rain travels the earth….

Great saint, with your byzantine eyes, 

woeful, under the harness… 

A sort of saint, humble monk at prayer, 

in the twilight. 

A monk? What am I saying?… 

A pontiff, on his excremental palanquin! 

A pope-- 

WHAT IS THIS CLACKING OF THE BIT?

THESE DULL THUDS IN THE STALL?

WHAT'S GOING ON?

PONTIFF AT PRAYER?

SCHOOLBOY IN DETENTION?

---INTERRUPTED DURING HIS MASS, 

HE TURNED HIS BYZANTINE EYES TOWARDS US....

The End

 

Ideas Fly Back and Forth

The ranchers are selling their wheat early this year, not holding it over for a better price in the Spring. Next year the government lifts restrictions on planting, and nobody is sure what will happen when wheat grows “fencerow to fencerow.”This morning another man has come out from the Grain Growers to help us out. John and I haven’t got time to cooper boxcars and handle trucks too.

At lunchtime, he takes his carpenter’s apron off and sits on a grain door in the shade of a boxcar, resting before he eats. I go out to join him and notice a Bible resting on the ledge under the rear window of his car. He says he doesn’t read it much, and because he is anxious not to appear narrowly Christian, I want to know more about him. He is sixty-five, about to retire; a lonely man, it seems. There is something unspoken in him. His eyes squint to keep out the bright sunlight falling now just where the boxcar’s shadow stops. 

“There’s one thing in Mark that has always puzzled me”. He turns to face me, 

and I continue. 

“Where Jesus says, ‘ To them that have shall be given, and from them that have not shall be taken away’. 

That always seemed cruel to me, but since the verb hasn’t got an object (have what? have not what?) if you supply an object, it’s really alive. 

Love. Money. Intelligence. Curiosity. 

Anything.”

In the bleached countryside of his mind, suddenly a new season washes over, common plants begin to blossom. And now, ideas fly back and forth between us, like bees, their legs thickening with pollen.

In the next hour we talk a lot and I learn that he has been reading Rufus Jones, Meister Eckhart, and ‘The Cloud of Unknowing. He nearly trembles with a new joy he kept hidden. His wife writes poetry, he tells me, and adds——thrusting years recklessly aside—“I’ve worked here sixteen years, one harvest to another. I’ve seen a lot of young men come and go, and never had a decent conversation. It’s worse with the college kids. They don’t think, most of them.

Trucks start coming in again, lunch is over. He puts his carpenter’s apron on again, but before we part he invites me home to dinner this evening, careful not to spoil it by appearing as happy as he really is.

Back inside the elevator, I’d like to lie down somewhere in a cool, dark corner, and weep. What are people doing with their lives? what are they doing?

 story by 

Robert Sund

                                           

         FROM: News of the Universe

poems of twofold consciousness  1980

chosen and introduced by ROBERT BLY

  

 

I know her as Mount Ida, but her Native name is Kela7scen.

One of the pleasures of living in Salmon Arm has been to come to love this regal mountain that graces the horizon and fortuitously, is visible from many vantage points.

In B.C, a mountain view from your home is considered a desirable feature.

But because of Ida’s position and the hilly terrain, many, many homes have this valued view. 

From our Bedroom

Although a mere 1379 meters high, and therefore considered by some not to qualify as a “real” mountain, she certainly is a mountain to me and many admirers. 

Striking an magnificent presence, reaching and exceeding the required height of 1,000 meters, she officially but more importantly, by sheer enduring performance,

she qualifies.

 

Here’s what local photographer Jim  Cooperman relates about Ida:

"Shuswap’s sacred Mount Ida

At just 1574 metres (5164 feet) it is hardly a real peak; nonetheless Mount Ida has been a significant feature for our region since time immemorial. 

Over 80 people recently attended a meeting of the local Questers to hear Neskonlith Band member Louie Thomas talk about the mountain’s legends. Known to the Secwepemc people as Kela7scen for its funny coloured rocks, the mountain is considered by Secwepemc people to be sacred ground.

Louie was raised by his grandparents who along with teaching him how to fish and hunt, passed on many of the legends that help define some of Shuswap’s geographical features. Louie described one legend about a hunter who became lost on Kela7scen and was found by “little people” who steered him home by shortening the distance to there. Because of these little people, many were frightened to go up the mountain; however hunters would

go up there to fast and sweat to ensure their success in hunting.

Very likely it was an early surveyor in 1871, possibly J. Richardson, who named the mountain after Mount Ida in Greece. 

[Interesting point: In one version in Greek mythology, Zeus was born in an Idaean cave. The cave was a place of initiations, and may have served as the site of an oracle.] 

"Many people think that Shuswap’s Mount Ida is an extinct volcano because of the volcanic rock and deep holes at the top, but these rocks and holes are what remain from a basalt lava flow that occurred many millions of years ago. It was actually erosion that created the mountain, as underneath the ancient lava is a very hard layer of granitic rock.

It was this layer of igneous rock that attracted the eccentric mining prospector, Jack Thornton to spend years searching for molybdenum and platinum in the 30’s and early 40’s. Jack dug two tunnels into the mountain and lived there during the winters in a log cabin. He was only seen in town occasionally getting supplies and delivering rock samples for analysis.  

In 1943, after an extended absence from town, searchers went up the mountain to find that Thornton had passed away. They buried him in one of his tunnels, which they blasted shut to prevent the potential for accidents.

In the early 90’s, controversy surrounded the plans to clearcut log the mountain, which was also proposed for park status. 

The clearcutting controversy ended in 1998 when the massive, 5000 hectare Fly Hills fire burnt the forest set to be logged...

Following the fire, Louie’s Mother and famed Neskonlith First Nation elder Mary Thomas led the resistance to the plans for salvage logging the burnt forest as well as logging green wood on the backside. Besides its spiritual values, Mary and the entire Shuswap Nation were concerned about the potential impacts to the water supply.

Negotiations were held between the Shuswap Tribal Council, the forest company and the forest service. The result was an agreement to leave the burnt trees intact on the mountain top, to hold off logging for five years, to use selective logging instead of clearcutting, to increase the stream buffer widths, and to preserve the birch trees.

[An update: The possibility of logging on Mount ida has resurfaced. This appeared in the local newspaper as this blog was going to press!!!]

"Salmon Arm council will soon be hearing about plans to log a portion of Mount Ida.

On Monday, May 3, a representative of BC Timber Sales is scheduled to speak to the city's 8 am development and planning services committee meeting about its logging plans.

The letter accompanying the agenda item is from the Okanagan Columbia Timber Sales office. It is regarding proposed BCTS cut blocks and roads within the Okanagan Columbia Business Area.

Received on March 17, the letter states that as an identified stakeholder organization in BC Timber Sales operating areas, the city is invited to provide comments on the development that "may overlap your area of interests".

It states BCTS plans to prepare and develop one new cut block totalling 38.90 hectares and associated roads.

The city must respond before May 12.'

L

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Cooperman continues: 

'It has been a few decades since I last hiked the trail up to the top of Mount Ida with my family and marvelled at the views and the knife-like edge of the ridge that extends to the western peak, which limits access. Although the western summit looks to be the highest from the highway, the eastern peak is actually higher by just three metres. Hikers must remember to use extreme caution as there are many dangerously steep cliffs."

That fire Cooperman mentioned is indeed an historical memory for Salmon Armers. A lightning strike on the adjacent Fly Hills jumped the road and began burning towards the foremost peak. As is usual with wild fires, it began as somewhat harmless looking smouldering wiffs, but blossomed into a terrifying blaze, enveloping Ida’s face as these photos show. These were taken by my neighbours late husband, who along with the rest of the town watched the fire’s progress. 

The fire forced evacuation of half the city/town, enlisted the army, and changed the green cover of Ida.

But Ida has greened up since then, and continues undaunted in her grandeur, having experienced such fiery cycles many times in her lifetime, unfazed by the short spans of humans living beneath her. 

Before Fire

  

After Fire

For now, she remains uncomplicated.

REC 1935

Type:

User Maintained

• Fees:
• None
• 
  
• Campsites:
• 0
• 
  
• Access:
• Road
• 
  
• Facilities:
• Toilets

She changes through seasons and depending on the photographer’s view, does not look like the same mountain. 

This winter I was delighted to make out the face of an old man covering the side of Ida. Maybe you've already spotted him. Perhaps it's the face of that old prospector sealed in a cave in which he was initiated into the Happy Hunting Ground... 

..wearing some wintry stubble?

But to end on a magical note, Kela7scen,

you raise the hearts of those living beneath you.

You lift our spirits, and remind us of the enduring life and beauty of this planet.