Professional Documents
Culture Documents
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This book is meant to help you feel around for the poetry and
ritual that can help support the life you want to live, and light up the
year. We can excavate rituals that do work from doctrines that no
longer do.
A Brief Lexicon
My terminology should be clear in context, but it may be useful to
have a few definitions at the outset. Cultural liturgy means
nonreligious words and acts that are established methods to invoke
reflection. This means the works of literature and music that become
staples of weddings, funerals, and other events. “Liturgy” means a
set of ritual acts and readings. The word itself reminds us that
responsibility for human services toggles between religion and
politics: early Christians borrowed the word “liturgy” from the
ancient Greeks, for whom it meant state-mandated feasts and
parades hosted by local landowners. We already have poems
popularly accepted as benediction. Cultural liturgy includes
nonreligious sacred words, such as “I do solemnly swear,” and
gestures, like kneeling, bowing, rocking, or finger tipped to thumb.
I invented the term Interfaithless to refer to the nonreligious who
feel positively connected to others through that identity. We have
faith in the “inter.” We have community among our present-day
unbelievers, and also with all those in history who shared a sense
that the real excitement is in art, nature, and love. Interfaithless
might be seen as a fresh variety of the old moniker humanist, which
can sound species-centric today and can be caught up in old
European arguments.
I also call myself a poetic realist. It means I’m a science-and-
reason person, and I use art and its ideals to understand experience
and speak beyond what can be known.
I use poetic sacred to express sacred feelings that are not
religious. Anthropology and sociology often use “the sacred” to
explore what people “hold sacred.” Etymology supports nonreligious
usage, tracing all the way back to the Proto-Indo-European seh k-,
meaning “to sanctify, to make a treaty.” Words and acts invoked at
sacred times become enchanted with memory and can carry the
sacred elsewhere, to hallow new ground.
There is room for musing in these models, but when the risks are
high, CEOs without an express aversion to prayer might well try that
too.
For instance, in 2005 German researchers published a study of Sri
Lankan business leaders including Buddhists, Christians, Hindus, and
Muslims. When asked anonymously if and when they practiced
religion at their secular workplaces, many said that they did, for
decisions. Though they had been schooled in multiple management
protocols for making choices, and some had even been assigned
specific versions by their companies, participants with Buddhist
backgrounds set up shrines and practiced reflection and stanza
chanting; Hindus conducted puja ceremonies, recited mantras at
work, and prayed for clarity; Christians worshipped with crosses and
other symbols and celebrated mass at work. Business leaders with
Muslim backgrounds spoke of aligning behavior to the principles of
Islam.
The study used the term the ultimate, to include references to
“God, transcendent reality, or truth.” One participant “admitted” that
he turned to the ultimate when faced with critical decisions and
added, “Perhaps it is psychotic, but I have done this for the last 30–
35 years. I feel it makes me a better man and it helps me to take
the right decisions.” Researchers found that results of the decision,
good and bad, were often attributed to the quality of the ritual
experience. The business leaders said the rituals provided “solace,
guidance, and inspiration.”
Our Poem
The poem I suggested to Alice, Machado’s “Caminante, no hay
camino” (1912), is one of the best-known Spanish poems across the
globe.
The poem opens with praise for those who make their own way,
by preference or need. The first five lines of the ten-line poem hint
at lasting accomplishment in footprints and path forging. Things
change when line six taps you on the shoulder to look back and see
the record of your efforts. Nada, or not much.
The line “that will never be traveled again” sneaks into the poem
the limits we usually hide from. All we leave behind is the froth of a
ship’s wake, full of energy, but so brief. The poem ends in that
frothing erasure, but the order of claims can matter less in poetry
than in prose, which is to say that the poem contains both truths, so
we do and we don’t leave footprints.
The word “traveler” appears only capitalized, so it always looks
like a proper noun, Traveler. The poem invites us each to feel called
by that name. There are travelers with stamped passports, travelers
of the heart, travelers in time, and travelers of the mind. What kind
of traveler are you? The poet was also perhaps talking to himself.
When poets seem to be lecturing, handing down wisdom from on
high, they often can be read as addressing themselves—cajoling,
convincing, reminding. The poem exemplifies Machado’s spare,
moody style and sustained metaphors.
Scultura.
Per completare quanto è attinente alla scultura nel suo più esteso
significato, dovrei dire delle gemme. Qualche cenno ne ho fatto non
ha guari più sopra, parlando della glittica, e per non entrare in
maggiori particolari, ai quali assai si presterebbe il Museo Nazionale
di Napoli, per quanti oggetti si raccolsero negli scavi d’Ercolano e
Pompei, mi basti riassumerne in concetto generale il discorso; che
cioè anche in questo ramo dell’arte i Romani furono dapprima
imitatori de’ Greci, adottandone i soggetti e desumendoli da fatti