And the soul, if she is to know herself
Stanza from Kim Moore’s poem “And the Soul” in The Art of Falling
must look into the soul and find
what kind of beast is hiding.
There is risk in self-examination. There is also risk in avoiding it. In Mormon scripture we find a great example in 2 Nephi 4. The process can be painful (and lead to things turning out lousy anyway). Elsewhere, I’ve always liked one facet of Mormonism’s take on the Garden of Eden. There is something inside us which must be grappled with if we are ever to progress—something potentially dangerous.
My experience teaches me humans are—despite any godly potential—a predatory species. We subdue other lives out of self-interest. We colonize, and when this begins to seem evil, we seek to colonize the colonizers. To build off Alma 32, we harvest and consume all manner of fruit—delicious, sour, ripe, spoiled. What is good fruit? Is it just whatever fruit we’re in the mood for?
We are hungry beasts. It isn’t all we are, but it is an inherent part of our makeup.
…still I love the train, its sheer unstoppability,
Stanza from Moore’s poem “Barrow to Sheffield”
its relentless pressing on, and the way the track
stretches its limb across the estuary…
I resist this image. Or rather, I agree with the metaphor but resist using the word love. I resent the relentlessness of the train. In the last year, more than ever before, I have felt life’s train pressing on, locked into the track which charts my path through mortality. I resent barreling toward a destination I do not want and for which I will never be ready.
Of course, like others I know, I have felt the comfort of hearing a train pass by in the night. I have taken heart in the sense of connection that sensory event provides—connection to other people and to a world of resources and opportunities. Perhaps this is what enables the poet to love the train’s “relentless pressing on”.
And in that year I waited for the horses
Stanza from the poem “In That Year”
but they only shifted their feet in the darkness.
And in that year I imagined a vain thing;
I believed that the world would come for me.
And in that year I gave up on all things
I was promised and left myself to sadness.
The above excerpt conveys the essence of my 2022. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say my 2022 has been god-awful. Hardly makes me unique.
Of late, some good things have happened. I’m grateful I recently followed a link provided by the Poetry Foundation. This led to me reading an essay by the poet Kim Moore: Expanding the Political. Honestly, I’ve already forgotten most of what the essay said, but I remember its effect. I enjoyed and valued reading it. Afterward, I bought a copy of Dr. Moore’s The Art of Falling. Giving her book my full attention was time well spent.
Let me tell you about a man called Graham Short
Stanza from the poem “The Master Engraver”
who can engrave the Lord’s Prayer on the head
of a pin…
…who waits
to make a single stroke between heartbeats,
who works so slowly, so quietly, that when
the mice come, their footsteps cause a tremor
that can obliterate several words. …
I used to help sell scientific equipment. This included sample preparation equipment for SEMs. SEM stands for Scanning Electron Microscope. Instead of using visible light waves, these microscopes shoot a beam of electrons at a sample and analyze the way they rebound to create highly detailed images of very small things. When scientists in early 2020 witnessed COVID-19 developing at the cellular level, they did so using SEMs.
SEMs have even more powerful cousins: TEMs (Transmission Electron Microscopes). SEMs and TEMs can image incredibly tiny materials. These instruments are so sensitive, so carefully calibrated, they tend to be operated in basements while resting on advanced anti-vibration stands.
Human souls are sensitive in a similar way, but life jostles us so often we grow desensitized. Often, we fail to respect the wear and tear, the damage being done. Of course, there is something to be said for being overly sensitive. I’m often guilty of that, and the overthinking which follows.
The train of life rumbles on, achieving commerce and community. We travelers, with our inner beasts, tremble in our seats. Sometimes precious fruits of our labor, like engravings or SEM images, get ruined by the shaking.
Questions for Discussion
Reread one of the above poetry excerpts. What thoughts does it generate in you?
These days, what literature provides you a worthwhile avenue for self-reflection? Why?
Wheat & Tares 
Well, I read the first stanza and I think, “Know thyself.” I guess that’s because I’m a philosophy guy, not a poetry guy. There are a few poets and many readers of poetry. There are a few philosophers and many readers of philosophy. I’m a reader.
The whole sombre tone of the post and the phrase “We are hungry beasts” makes me think of Ernest Becker’s book Denial of Death. It’s one of those books that most serious people get around to reading at some point in life. It’s one of those second-half-of-life books. It’s not something you give as a Christmas gift. It’s a look-into-the-abyss book.
I liked In That Year.
It reminds me of a Thomas Merton poem “When in that Soul of a Serene Disciple.” Although the Merton poem has a more positive spin on losing everything.
On my mission, I enjoyed Camus’s The Stranger. It impacted me deeply. I also enjoyed the less dense poetry of TS Eliot.
My lifelong interest has been in fine art. My principal interest is in the paintings of Bruegel, Millet, and Van Gogh. Images of everyday life in times past.
More recently, I’ve enjoyed movies like Monument Men. And The Last Great Beer Run. Both deal with the conundrums of life. Beer Runs explores issues from my era and it left very emotional.
I loved these clips. I’m not a poet, but as a fellow Brit I seem to have several points of overlap here, though not in time. We share a birthplace. I have ancestors from Barrow in Cumbria (which I assume is the Barrow in the poem as that’s where she is now, though it may not be). And then there’s the trumpet, although I don’t teach.
Which clips spoke to me… The trains first I guess. As a child I used to hear trains running over a nearby railway bridge as I was lying in bed at night. We get a lot of trains coming through the city I live in at the moment, both passenger and freight. If the wind is in the right direction I can hear them too. Then the last clip about the head of a pin made me wince. Particularly your diversion into microscopes. I studied materials science and have prepared samples for, and used the microscopes… back when actual cameras were mounted and clamped in place to take photographs. Computer image processing has come a long way. I only had to prepare the one TEM sample, thankfully. It was torture, and once it was down to a very small size someone else had to do all the handling for me. Never mind engraving stuff so small on the head of a pin, I just couldn’t pick it up, on account of my own visual processing difficulties. That definitely took me back to that moment of frustration.
I’ll definitely be looking out for the book, curious to know what else she has written.
I’m really enjoying these comments, you all. Already purchased an ebook, tried out some new poems, and browsed some paintings thanks to your contributions.
Hedgehog, I really enjoyed The Art of Falling. The poetry was very accessible on a first read, but also crafty technical poetry, and a cohesive collection where reading the early poems preps you to get more out of the later poems. Dr. Moore has another collection, out last fall, titled All the Men I Never Married. Her author website also says she does creative non-fiction. Looks like she shows up on various YouTube channels doing readings/ discussions.
Well, there are many worthwhile answers, but my MA thesis is on Wordsworth’s Prelude, and I’ve found that an avenue for self-reflection and spiritual refreshment as much as any other text.