Poesia Eres Tu

¿Qué Es Poesía?

¿Qué es poesía?, dices mientras clavas
En mi pupila tu pupila azul.

¡Qué es poesía! ¿Y tú me lo preguntas?
Poesía eres tú.

The Sublime

After days and days of discussion in class of various philosophers and their views of the sublime, I have finally come to my own realization of what the sublime is.

For Edmund Burke, it is the "aim of art." He discusses the astonishment that sublimity in art supplies without fear. Kant reiterates this, saying that the sublime "allows us to remain without fear in a state of security." Kant splits the sublime into mathematical and dynamical categories, the first affecting our perception and the other the power we have in relation to that piece of art.

I was unsure about what art piece to use from the field trip, but after rereading the information on Kant and Burke I decided that I needed to write about something from The Evolving Universe exhibit at the Natural History Museum. Those pieces, pictures of our galaxies and galaxies light years away, are art in its most raw and powerful form: the beautiful and sublime universe.

My Song - "For You"

I know it has been a while since we performed our own songs for the class, but this song assignment made me reflect back on the creative process of writing and singing my song ("For You") for the class.

Writing my own song was a deeply aesthetic and personal experience. I incorporated my idea of beauty into the song. The song was written, despite the title, for not one person in particular, but rather for whoever would be willing to listen to me at the time. My philosophy is very simple: Life is a song, enjoy the melody, do not be afraid of death. It is a beautiful, inevitable phase of living. The beauty of life is the fact that it is finite, but we are unique contributor's to the novel of Earth.

"Let the Sun Shine In"

When I was a little girl, I would lock myself in the basement, turn on the Hair soundtrack, and dance. Just dance. I must have been nine years old. I didn’t know what many of the lyrics meant (which is probably a good thing), but I lived on the music. It was electrifying, especially the last song, the one the ensemble sings after Claude has given himself up to the clutches of Vietnam. “Let the sun shine,” they sing. Claude has died, but on the stage a single spotlight shines down, a beam of light from the heavens onto his earthly grave. At this point in my life, this song represented freedom: the ability to dance shamelessly in the basement. But then I grew up, and as life got in the way, the song disappeared into the recesses of my mind. But, like fate, the song came back to me last summer.

I love this musical. To be honest, I love practically all musicals. I am a show tunes lover, and proud of it. Musicals tell stories through song: powerful, rich, and riveting song. I find this very aesthetic. It combines literature with dance and singing into a powerful and cathartic two to three hour escape from reality. In July I went to see Hair on Broadway. That night was the most vibrant, colorful one of my life; the show danced its way into a niche in my heart. During curtain call, the actors called people on stage. I ran up and joined in song, singing “Let the Sun Shine In,” at the top of my lungs. My nine-year-old self would have been so happy. Gazing into those lights, my legs rooted to the Broadway stage, I began to weep. It was the most transcendent moment of my life. For the next week, I locked myself in my room, blasted the Hair soundtrack, and danced. In a way, nothing had changed. At this point in my life, the song still represented freedom, a way to see the hope and sunshine in life while completely surrendering myself to the music.

"The Long and Winding Road"

Like “Let the Sun Shine In,” “The Long and Winding Road” has been with me for a long time, but unlike Hair, it did not escape and hide from me for years. This is not a song I listened to constantly, but every time I hear it, I come close to tears. I find this song very aesthetic. It is soft and relaxing, the singer accompanied only by a couple instruments. The lyrics are also so moving:

The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day.
Why leave me standing here?
Let me know the way

The winding road can be compared to many things, but for me it represents my life. What stage, you may ask? Well, I think all stages. I am a huge Beatles fan and could easily have picked any of their songs, but this one touches me in a way that I almost find indescribable. I have had a lot of dark days in my life, days where Hair’s sunshine could not even brighten them. This is a song that I can play and cry to and feel ok doing it. But I don’t cry because the song is sad; I cry because it has so much hope. The singer is longing to “know the way.” Is that not what we are all doing? We want to know where to go, and in a world that is full of seven billion winding roads intertwining with one another, it can be hard to follow your own path.

“The Long and Winding Road” is a later song of the Beatles, when John, Paul, George, and Ringo’s hair was long and disheveled. In the musical Hair, long locks symbolize rebellion, a deviation from the social norm. It’s a very anthropological musical, bursting with life and love, questions about the meaning of existence and calls for change. Both these artists and these songs have a plea in them, a plea for strength and direction, hope in a place where it’s so easy to get lost.

The Republic

It has been a while since I have blogged, but a lot has happened since the Hegel vs. Marx debate. We started reading The Republic. It is without question the oldest text I have ever read, but still surprisingly relevant to our life today.

Yes, the book has surprised me. It has frustrated and changed the way I view philosophy and government. I am really looking forward to tackling the question of philosophy of art.

Our imperfect society debates ended today. I am very proud of democracy. I feel like we put our best foot forward in a fierce and entertaining five-day debate. I was so nervous before we started, but now, looking back, I am satisfied with my performance.

Hegel

History is like a river, always moving but constant in purpose: to move forward. It evolves and progresses through the unfolding of the universal, absolute spirit of the world: the Weltgeist. Just like a river, history also has a set path, and a destination where the spirit becomes conscious of itself.

History is driven by ideas and the desire of freedom. We achieve this through dialectic progression. My dialectic is made up of three aspects: thesis, antithesis, and synthesis. Through the presentation of an idea, negation of that idea, and a compromise based on two negating ideas, history is able to move forward, society is able to grow stronger and ideas are able to supplant themselves. Examples: Protestant Reformation (thesis: autocratic Catholic Church, antithesis: Reformation based on freedom of the believer, synthesis: two branches of Christianity combining authority and freedom in new ways).

Every society is manifesting the spirit of the world as it continues along history’s arch. The duty of society is to embody and abet in the unfolding of the idea of freedom and societies bring contributions to human culture that together make up the realization of the absolute spirit in history. Look at the ideas of Plato or Socrates and their emphasis on the freedom of the mind. Look at the inventions by Gutenberg, the art of Michelangelo, the myths of the Greeks as parts of living culture. Look at the rise of modern constitutional states with their emphasis on the rights and freedom of citizens—Hegel’s Prussia and the US.

The spirit synthesizes knowledge and the freedom of humanity is increasingly realized through our recognition of each other as free and equal. This is how history moves—in a beautiful, deterministic, flowing manner. The world spirit is the sum of “human utterances” and “human reflections.” In the world spirit we recognize ourselves, and we realize that we are part of something truly great.