{"id":191,"date":"2003-05-16T15:17:46","date_gmt":"2003-05-16T23:17:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/chriscorrigan.com\/blogs\/?p=191"},"modified":"2003-05-16T15:17:46","modified_gmt":"2003-05-16T23:17:46","slug":"94472903","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/94472903\/","title":{"rendered":"94472903"},"content":{"rendered":"

I am re-reading Cosmic Canticle<\/a><\/i> by Ernesto Cardenal. The review in that link there describes the poem far better than I can right now. <\/p>\n

I first read the poem in 1996 when I found a copy of the book in a remainder bin as one of Vancouver’s small bookstores was being squeezed out of existence by a chain. I was immediately struck by the beginning of the first Cantiga:<\/p>\n

\n
\nIn the beginning there was nothing\n      neither space \n             nor time.\n                       The entire universe concentrated\nin the space of the nucleus of an atom,\nand before that even less, much less than a proton, \nand even less still, an infinitely dense mathematical point.\n                                       And that was Big Bang. <\/blockquote><\/pre>\n
From there the poem meanders through origin stories and, as I reread it now – all 481 pages of it – I see where Cardenal has assembled a collection of sources and ideas and markers on the path of the evolution of human consciousness as it is mirrored in the evolution of the universe.  Many of these things he points to – snippets of quantum theory or sacred songs describing origins and history – ring with the clarity and beauty of poetic cadance, and, at least to this blogger’s mind, they also read as invitations.  As if Cardenal was saying “so you think that is cool?  Check out what Cardinal Danielou<\/a> had to say.”  Reading this poem with the book in one hand and Google in the other invites a journey inward into a huge resevoir of conjecture, observation and thought.<\/p>\n
For example, here is Cardenal’s take on one creation story, cribbed from a Maori tale of origins:<\/p>\n
\n
\nanxiously searching in the deep darkness,\nsearching\nthere on the shore that divides day from night,\nthe night conceived the seed of night,\nthe heart of night had always been there\neven in the deep darkness,\nthe palpitating pulpa of life\ngrows in the deep darkness,\nout of the shadows even the most tenuous ray of light emerges,\nthe procreative power,\nlife's first known ecstasy, \nwith the joy of passing from silence to sound, \nand thus the progeny of the Great Expander\nfilled the expansion of the skies,\nthe chorus of life arose and erupted in ecstasy\nand then reposed in a delight of calm.\n<\/blockquote><\/pre>\n
This story is borrowed from the Maori whakapapa of creation, the story that is told to begin all stories, the lineage that describes all lineages, the genealogy of matter.  A whakapapa<\/a> is a history in song form that links the singer to his or her ancestors and beyond that to the beginning moment of time when the universe manifested its potential:<\/p>\n
“The term “Te Here Tangata”, literally The Rope of Mankind, is also used to describe genealogy. I visualise myself with my hand on this rope which stretches into the past for the fifty or so generations that I can see, back from there to the instant of Creation, and on into the future for at least as long. In this modern world of short term political, social, economic and business perspectives, and instant consumer gratification, Te Here Tangata is a humbling concept.”<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
On this Maori website<\/a> you can read more about whakapapa and see an example of one.  This author has also recorded the whakapapa of creation,<\/a> a version of the story that Cardenal paraphrases above:<\/p>\n
Ko Te Kore (the void, energy, nothingness, potential)
\nTe Kore-te-whiwhia (the void in which nothing is possessed)
\nTe Kore-te-rawea (the void in which nothing is felt)
\nTe Kore-i-ai (the void with nothing in union)
\nTe Kore-te-wiwia (the space without boundaries)<\/p>\n
Na Te Kore Te Po (from the void the night)
\nTe Po-nui (the great night)
\nTe Po-roa (the long night)
\nTe Po-uriuri (the deep night)
\nTe Po-kerekere (the intense night)
\nTe Po-tiwhatiwha (the dark night)
\nTe Po-te-kitea (the night in which nothing is seen)
\nTe Po-tangotango (the intensely dark night)
\nTe Po-whawha (the night of feeling)
\nTe Po-namunamu-ki-taiao (the night of seeking the passage to the world)
\nTe Po-tahuri-atu (the night of restless turning)
\nTe Po-tahuri-mai-ki-taiao (the night of turning towards the revealed world)<\/p>\n
Ki te Whai-ao (to the glimmer of dawn)
\nKi te Ao-marama (to the bright light of day)
\nTihei mauri-ora (there is life)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n
A lineage that links us to the very beginnings of the universe is welcome, epecially for the humility it engenders.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I am re-reading Cosmic Canticle by Ernesto Cardenal. The review in that link there describes the poem far better than I can right now. I first read the poem in 1996 when I found a copy of the book in a remainder bin as one of Vancouver’s small bookstores was being squeezed out of existence by a chain. I was immediately struck by the beginning of the first Cantiga: In the beginning there was nothing neither space nor time. The entire universe concentrated in the space of the nucleus of an atom, and before that even less, much less than …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"_wpas_customize_per_network":false},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-191","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/siBp1-94472903","jetpack-related-posts":[],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/191","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=191"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/191\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=191"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=191"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.chriscorrigan.com\/parkinglot\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=191"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}