Sounds
and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes
a thousand twangling instruments
Will
hum about mine ears; and sometime voices
That,
if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will
make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The
clouds methought would open and show riches
Ready
to drop upon me, that, when I waked,
I
cried to dream again.
(William
Shakespeare, The Tempest 3.2.132-40)
Winged Horses (2014)
Soph Laugh
The Platonic dream of ascent toward the Heavens elicits a demurral in the modern spirit. We “recognize” but do not necessarily “participate” in the figurative ascent on noble, winged horses of the gods; soaring upward until we become the rulers of the universe. In this case, our forbearance works like the light of the sun on Icarus’s wings, bringing us back down to earth, where we settle on solid ground.
The
intellectual leap one must make in order to imagine a Platonian ascent into
that non-material abstract form, known to us through sensation, requires our
evocation of an imaginative eidos. In the Husserlian sense of “essence,”
the idealization of forms, the pastoral retreat, the ideal Republic, the Golden
Age that sparks genius, we must depart from solid ground, relying only upon our
senses to guide us upward where we might formulate a possible solution to the
problem of universals.
In
metaphysics, the problem of universals refers to the question of whether
properties exist, and if so, what they are. Properties are qualities or
relations that two or more entities have in common. The various kinds of
properties, such as qualities and relations are referred to as universals. For
instance, one can imagine creating a musical composition that has in common the
quality of being inspired or exemplifying genius, or one can refer to complex
thoughts that have in common being the essence of that force which animates one
toward the creative expression deemed 'genius'.
The
“descent” toward earth highlights what is cast in shadow by the major conflicts
of mind, which reluctantly affirm and pay tribute to restraint and stoicism;
the belief that virtue, the highest good, is based on knowledge. Given that we
cannot claim authority over knowledge, we must bow in reverence to that very
essence or quality which gives rise to it. Consequently, our “ascent” toward knowledge
is perceived as a false conquest, a dream-like encounter with that which can
only be reached by virtue of our imagination.
Liberating Imagination (2014)
Soph Laugh
The
possibility of transcending this dream-like ascent into the very essence of
existence to the point where human understanding is illuminated is hotly
debated, but that does not prohibit one from attempting to understand why the
sun rises, why we exist, or from whence arise the forces that animate the
material universe.
Separating
genius from the individual is akin to the noble escape from the environs of
earth toward the musical spheres of the heavens. Hearing even a faint
mellifluous sound echoed in our minds gives us hope that transcends our
arrogance, our self-aggrandizement, our self assurance and certainty of things.
The timbrel’s thunder quiets Calibran into servitude, the sound of the drums
sweet and high exalt the architecture of our minds, and the protective and
benevolent design that is mimetic of cosmic logos becomes accessible in the
duplication of its reality implicit in the physical state.
I prithee, let me bring thee where
crabs grow;
And
I with my long nails will dig thee pig-nuts,
Show
thee a jay’s nest, and instruct thee how
As
Caliban conjures the creatures of the island and echoes them, so too do we
conjure genius and echo it in our thoughts and productions. The explorers of
genius contort themselves in straining to see beyond natural presence. One is
rewarded for this transcendent impulse by seeing only his own image on the
surface of it. This accomplishment climaxes when he mirrors or mocks the image
he thinks he sees. The ineluctable fact of uncertainty tests his exalted
aspirations and reminds him of the comic aspect of belief, claims, and
knowledge. For both explorer and the essence being explored, the aim is art, or
song, and the resultant creation or note becomes the echoing sound of hope,
whistling in one’s ears.
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of
Heav’ns joy,
Sphear-born
harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers,
Wed
your divine sounds, and mixt power employ
Dead
things with inbreath’d sense able to pierce,
And
to our high-rais’d phantasie present,
That
undisturbed Song of pure concent,
Ay
sung before the sapphire-colour’d throne
To
him that sits theron
With
Saintly shout, and solemn Jubily,
Where
the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their
loud up-lifed Angel trumpets blow,
And
the Cherubick host in thousand quires
Touch
their immortal Harps of golden wires,
With
those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms,
Hymns
devout and holy Psalms
Singling
everlastingly;
That
we on Earth with undiscording voice
May
rightly answer that melodious noise;
As
once we did, till disproportion’d sin
Jarr’d
against natures chime, and with harsh din
Broke
the fair musick that all creatures made
To
their great Lord, whose love their motion sway’d
In
perfect Diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state
of good.
O
may we soon again renew that Song,
And
keep in tune with Heav’n, till God ere long
To
his celestial consort us unite,
To
live with him, and sing in endless morn of light.
(At
a Solemn Music, Milton)
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