Monday, July 26, 2004
On Borrowings
Recently, I wrote a poem containing an image which I wasn't sure was mine. I had the uneasy feeling that it might be an "unconscious borrowing" from something written by my friend Elizabeth Renning, whose poems I have published previously on this site. In response to my question, she replied in an extraordinarily insightful way:
"The issue of borrowing from and being influenced by others is an interesting one for me ... For one wants, of course, to respect another's artistic property, to not engage in plagiarism, etc. But what's also true it that we read other poets for exactly this reason: so that we might be influenced by them! ... so that some of what they do might sneak into our own work ... so we might become part of their family or lineage, and in the way that family members share certain physical characteristics, so does the writing of poets from the same 'family' share certain literary characteristics (or the way disciples might emulate their spiritual Master, seek to 'embody' what she or he embodies) ) ... and what's also true is that the laws of the conservation of matter and energy tell us that nothing is ever, truly, 'new' ... the very elements that compose our bodies have countless past-lives as trees and crystals and saints and flowers and criminals ... in terms of my own use of another poet's words ... when I feel that I am borrowing in this way, I usually pause and try to recall who it is I'm borrowing from, and how much ... I guess I have something of a 'rule' that a phrase of two or three words, in the context of something larger which is my 'own,' is o.k. ... "
Her wise and generous reply led me to reflect on how much we constantly borrow (ideas, thoughts, images, perceptions) from others and how much we in turn give back. As we know, we are always exchanging breath, atoms, and energy with everything around us. From one point of view, each of us is to a great extent a collection of "borrowings," a conglomeration of physical and psychological properties which have come to us through heredity or experience or listening or thoughtful reflection, none of which is exclusively our own. The only uniqueness we can claim is (essentially) the arrangement itself, the particular presentation of elements such as personality or essence or creative achievement.
On the other hand, occasionally an "original" appears--someone who speaks with a totally fresh voice, or offers a completely new vision. Then the world moves forward, its eyes opened more fully to a new sphere or way of perceiving.
Kundalini itself is such an eye opener. Once it takes possession of the self, the world is never seen again in the same colors, and the inner sense of identity changes irrevocably. One celebrates the discovery of the new mode of realization, but one also discovers that such awakenings can lead to a frequently lonely path, since the world at large does not share a similar vision. Yet, energies spread, and ideas move through the " body spiritual." More and more of us report immersion in the subtle avenues of ascent, and exchange not only atoms but encouragement and discovered wisdom as we together move toward a common, yet unseen, goal.
"The issue of borrowing from and being influenced by others is an interesting one for me ... For one wants, of course, to respect another's artistic property, to not engage in plagiarism, etc. But what's also true it that we read other poets for exactly this reason: so that we might be influenced by them! ... so that some of what they do might sneak into our own work ... so we might become part of their family or lineage, and in the way that family members share certain physical characteristics, so does the writing of poets from the same 'family' share certain literary characteristics (or the way disciples might emulate their spiritual Master, seek to 'embody' what she or he embodies) ) ... and what's also true is that the laws of the conservation of matter and energy tell us that nothing is ever, truly, 'new' ... the very elements that compose our bodies have countless past-lives as trees and crystals and saints and flowers and criminals ... in terms of my own use of another poet's words ... when I feel that I am borrowing in this way, I usually pause and try to recall who it is I'm borrowing from, and how much ... I guess I have something of a 'rule' that a phrase of two or three words, in the context of something larger which is my 'own,' is o.k. ... "
Her wise and generous reply led me to reflect on how much we constantly borrow (ideas, thoughts, images, perceptions) from others and how much we in turn give back. As we know, we are always exchanging breath, atoms, and energy with everything around us. From one point of view, each of us is to a great extent a collection of "borrowings," a conglomeration of physical and psychological properties which have come to us through heredity or experience or listening or thoughtful reflection, none of which is exclusively our own. The only uniqueness we can claim is (essentially) the arrangement itself, the particular presentation of elements such as personality or essence or creative achievement.
On the other hand, occasionally an "original" appears--someone who speaks with a totally fresh voice, or offers a completely new vision. Then the world moves forward, its eyes opened more fully to a new sphere or way of perceiving.
Kundalini itself is such an eye opener. Once it takes possession of the self, the world is never seen again in the same colors, and the inner sense of identity changes irrevocably. One celebrates the discovery of the new mode of realization, but one also discovers that such awakenings can lead to a frequently lonely path, since the world at large does not share a similar vision. Yet, energies spread, and ideas move through the " body spiritual." More and more of us report immersion in the subtle avenues of ascent, and exchange not only atoms but encouragement and discovered wisdom as we together move toward a common, yet unseen, goal.
