These Bronze Age Ditties

 

Reading along with the assignments for my older one’s history of psychology course, I  particularly enjoyed the reading in the George Makari book, “Revolution in Mind” which does a wonderful job of narrating Freud’s intellectual exploration from disparate imperfect theories, into explanatory thesis named after him.  Infectious, reading about someone who sharpens his ideas, or disposes of them, moving towards a consistent, integrated theory.

The oldest collection of Chinese poetry is the Shijing.   The Zhou Dynasty, heaven on earth, the idealized Confucian archetype for moral rule.  I feel as though I’m splashing around in the primal fertilizer from which every subsequent writer draws nutrients.  Folk songs, most of them.  Blues songs too.  Take for example, “Peach Tree”

 

Buxom is the peach-tree;

How its flower blaze!

Our lady going home

Brings good to family and house.

 

Buxom is the peach-tree;

How its fruit swells

Our lady going home

Brings good to family and house

 

Buxom is the peach-tree;

How thick its leaves!

Our lady going home.

Brings good to the people of her house.

 

Apparently the, Confucians tried to twist all the stories within into reminders of the need for Confucian probity.  Enjoying these Bronze Age ditties, I was reminded of the “Song of Solomon” or the “Book of Songs” from the Bible, which is also disarmingly familiar and approachable, where all of a sudden, we are reading about being mesmerized by a beautiful woman instead of having God be disappointed one more time in His people.

It snowed and then it rained in the morning.  It stopped in the afternoon like they said it would and I went out to ski.  It was slick but it was wonderful and easy to slide quickly on.  The motion comes easy now and for a moment I see the sun open up, behind me and light up the white woods all around me.

 

 

 

Saturday, 02/27/21