I’ve recently started my MEd, and I feel like a child wading through a foreign language – but a foreign language almost-learned, concealing ideas that promise to illuminate and inspire. I finally started a makeshift glossary, full of words once known but forgotten, half-known, and brand new. Some of the best so far – Black Box, Zone of Proximal Development, Autopoeisis… each word holds a delicious idea.
I remember a similarly profound experience when I was a teenager, consumed by Poe’s The Raven. I felt my heart and mind swept up in the perfect music of the language, and I devoured it, greedily looking up each new word and the world it held. Surcease, obeisance, nepenthe – beautiful words that have almost never come up outside of this poem, have become a part of me. I learned panacea while looking up nepenthe.
And still, over 20 years later, this poem thrills me, fills me with fantastic wonders never felt before.
This. I must chase this feeling.
Gord Downie with The Rheostatics, covering Mary Margaret O’Hara.
I’m terrified to listen. He is one of very few celebrities I ever gave a shit about. His ability to be so heartfelt, so poignant, yet accessible and unpretentious and fun as hell.
Yesterday I walked through the woods, and this song played in my head. There are moments that I am so fucking scared.
Today I scoured the city for inspiration. Art left me empty, trains of thought hit dead ends. And then my daycare provider sent me this song, saying my kid really liked it.
What if we introduced a musical cleanse trend? One week of Bon Jovi with guaranteed results.