We began today’s session by reflecting on some of the key ideas in Burnt Norton, in particular the relevance of the following quotes from from parts III, IV and V of the poem. These summarize Eliot’s view of the modern human condition and also his aspiration towards a different quality of Being. You can hear the full discussion of this and indeed of the whole seminar by clicking on the sound track below. You can also view the images that were displayed during the seminar. View these alongside your listening to the talk and discussion.
Towards the end of the seminar we spent time in small groups discussing the meaning of the whole of section IV with its focus on the Kingfisher…. enjoy!
The Chinese Jar was provided by Rose! Thank you…..
Find all images used during the presentation here (click on the title Burnt Norton):
And tune into the audio by clicking on this link:
up=donne… Epigrahus textin;
Logos lost, mind your lone step
train always departing, now gone…Central left…platform none!
Loud civic announcements, Black Tuesday to commence
then Ash Wednesday to repent,
personal property, life lament
(because i do not hope to turn
flee solid flames, charred remains
endless forms of distractions’ claims…)
although, Ash Wednesday, thinking-man’s plan
not this morn’s curriculum. Burnt Norton to begin as planned!
Fixed on score with pattern, random repetition
jazz loving kookaburra yodelling tomorra
ha ha ha, fire gunna get ya! Bad antipodean humour:
Burnt Norton, associations grim this bombed morning
but to Anzac Simson on, the promised future
mansion of mule, familiar minds now & forever
Library gone, piano just bones,
mud from dust from New Orleans
music of all sense to brightly dream,
highly combustible realities!
Skilled lecturer, director , fruitier
eager to retire, return home sooner rather than later
flood the gutters, insure future laughter with water
warm rafters, watch suntanned green-rebegin
black trunks of evening
slap of summer’s surf
yelping dogs of kids to sand rejoice….
Swing of spinning tire
discover still centre
body of Christ and Buddha
tea-time to natter, terrible black weather;
But what a Bunning’s sprinkler
refreshing salvation’s’ gutters,
helicopters saving love’s excesses
decks of hosed deliverance
Christmas of camels…
Ts to hardly matter,
compared to factual forest fire
farm of long-term desire, sweating;
biodiversity , hazards reductions not working,
far from rushed city of hidden-radiation;
library of signed editions threatened
piano of grand-parents
un-tuned to be brutally beethovened;
fish all Classically-named, Icarus &
Epigraphus steamed ; pure , distilled perfection,
boiling liquid medium
feeding fevered thought, the simplest meditation
cognition of corinthian columns, breathe out then in!
But threat on jagged- horizon where Dante looms
kindling with blistered ambitions, devils broth begins,
Ash Wednesday never to turn a roast again
heavens damnation, dried-out dam with aboriginal name,
blacked-out curtains, memories grandparents wailing.
Fireproof the bright beyond, England wins;
typist on train, Wasteland in serial form
music of commuting tracks no Brahms
(metal luck, bad fuck, sad facts…)
Medal -proud-art, reality report!
Hero carnal as Epigus, brave as Icarus
prayed for by nun’s eternal
shaved in Damascus Central
firm arm of bronze and noozle
showering home, steaming flame
wax unmelted, Mars to come;
saving a familiar kingdom of meaning.
Tom his modest name
not hoping to turn again!
Boiled in a traffic jam
ts eliot getting harder and harder to understand,
to comprehend, concentrations windscreen delirium shouting
downtown, hot cars purring, dumb visions, yellow women with signs:
whilst mansions blacken, beggars with thesis sicken,texta on cardboard written
fry with banners of impending change, faulty brains, hydrogen bomb atoll above the drain!
Chill historic man, youth will farm the wind
craft better scenes, on-line farms of Eden.
Few trees to slice-down, shade for everyone!
Democracy in practice, comrades to visit
mass harvest, hemp from Everest
stitch and smoke
Tomorrow’s forests already grown,
summer still a kid’s see-saw and swing
holiday in Provence for typist and friend;
horns to chime, Catholic and Anglican
grapes and such well-trod wine to ferment!
Weekend forecast, better than ever:
rain and isobars in the never-never.
And mamma in a boat out-back;
light-white mackintosh, no hat to blow
waving hello! Rain at last
Distance to float, remain intact;
no need to follow, ski in wake
Centre of Dry-Lake Mungo,
Australia in fact , slow -still -go.
Stars , blue her dress so wet
red her dust and sunset!