Being In Time

I notice if I had to write a 5000 word essay putting the poem into its wider historical social context I would have no diffculty. I am trained to do so.

If I had to write a 5000 word essay describing how you create an inflection range to speak the poem, I would be at a complete loss, yet I am equaly trained to do so.

I dont have the discriptive terms or language to do this. To learn to speak it I don’t have to describe to myself what it is I am doing. Or I don’t have to pin it down into clear terms and the clunk of language as it is in a constant state of alteration.

Its not in its final form until the moment its performed. I dont have to worry about what its going to finaly be, I just need to reach and grab anything that works, makes it move and twist and play with it, see if it becomes whole or watch it fall apart as I make the wrong move or the right move at the wrong time.

Anything is possible, nothing is right or wrong the attempt is everything here. Getting it on its feet and doing takes care of everything. Trying to chart in advance of this just slows the processses and at its extreme everything will grind to a halt.

Its like the moment you realize you have to put down the instruction leaflet that came with youre Ikea bookcase and improvise, the first attempt may produce some unworkable weird three dimensional form but you are on the way.

You may not reach soft furnishing nirvana but you may get a workable form and as with any imperfections, disguise and the unshakable faith that you will sort it out properly tommorow is always an option. As is the gradual realization that it is still standing and you can live with some imperfection. No one else seems to notice.

I spent five minutes yesterday working out the bare bones of where to start with inflection and how I bring it to a final form. Really straight forward.

I spent two hours trying to work out a way of describing what I was doing. For the first hour I had almost convinced myself I had no clear idea what I was up to. It seemed to make no sense.

Oddly enough, its a processes you do not think about in words. Yet its certianly the activity that is crucial in how I make sense of words.

The only way I could even make a start was by using comparison with something that shared some features yet seemed very different.

So a highly confused post next in which I will share the same space as one of heavens cherubins.

Get its sense of space and position in time in relation to the objects in the 9th century poem I am dealing with.

Also see what happens when I alter the sense of space and distance in time with the poem, see if it holds form or falls flat on its face.

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