Charles Simic, "In the Street"

Hi all –

I found Mariame Kaba's remarks–"People are in motion, everywhere"–moving and helpful. She introduces her guiding question: "How do we create a world where everyone on the planet has enough?" Then she invites you to ask this of yourself:

What is your guiding question? What helps you move through chaos, fear, and a sense of being overwhelmed with the vagaries of this world? What grounds you?

Her use of "What grounds you?" struck me as worth emphasizing. I think a lot of people focus on a small grounding experience or ritual. Maybe five minutes of meditation as part of a longer routine with herbal tea and calming sounds. Or coffee and the newspaper. That is grounding; it certainly can bring you back to yourself. But if we say that and only that is grounding, we may throw away more fundamental questions.

I've been pondering recently about how to advocate for theory. We are in a moment where we need to ask what the purpose of the law is. What it means to be a citizen, what nationhood means, what possibilities lie beyond the way we've conducted politics. These questions are intuitive to me but they don't make sense to many people. Some really do believe only the bad guys are punished while the good guys always win. Some buy all the cosmetics and supplements sold to them by their fellow churchgoers. Some think a businessman in charge means we're recession proof.

I'm not saying everyone has to try philosophy or political theory, but the alternative is living in something that isn't even close to reality. Granted, plenty do philosophy and political theory and indulge crank ideas about everything. But I don't think the cranks actually try. What kind of trying tells you that you are always right? What kind of exploration leads you to major thinkers, if not prophets, solemnly nodding as you speak?

I submit that a grounding question has to come from understanding deeper needs. And those needs stand adjacent to theory or something like it. Many see this but don't articulate all the concepts they're working with. They know they have to serve, they know that service leads to advocacy, they know some causes fit their vision better than others. But they don't make explicit connections for themselves.

We need those connections to be said out loud. What exactly are each of us fighting for?

Charles Simic, "In the Street"

Simic's "In the Street" voices a compelling, somewhat hopeless romanticism. "Beauty, dark goddess, // We met and parted / As though we parted not" brings us to those moments we see someone and believe our lives transformed. It's erotic and potentially so much more. I think the shallower aspects can be outgrown but, as a reaction to the world, never entirely dismissed. Turning to the poem's specific language, I wonder about Simic's overly formal address to "Beauty," as if he is praising the god or force itself. He repeats "parted," invoking a divine mystery. How does disunity, our chasing of beauty, ironically constitute a unity?

In the Street
Charles Simic

Beauty, dark goddess,

We met and parted
As though we parted not.

Like two stopped watches
In a dusty store window,

One golden morning of time.

I've said there's a somewhat hopeless romanticism at play in this poem. It's worth taking the time to illustrate that further. I feel the narrator has a touch of Walter Mitty syndrome. Not entirely uncommon, but still strange to consider. You saw someone who looked amazing, and that changed your life? It was a moment you don't want to let go of, ever? How much are you living in your own head, imagining every encounter at the bank to be one with wealth? Or with a store clerk to be a chance at love?

I think of teenagers who never want to leave high school, who see their prom date as love eternal. Their heightened emotion isn't trivial, even though it's usually a problem. (Though some married their high school sweetheart and it worked.) Still, this ties to our general conception of romance, and that's a nightmare. A lot of people wonder: if it can't be a Hallmark movie, why are we even trying?

So on the one hand, this can be dramatically immature. On the other, you're someone who wants to love life. You desire anything but ungratefulness. There's a part of us open to something far greater and unexpected. The terribly shallow behavior of a midlife crisis makes more sense to us than we care to admit. But it also points to the ground for a deeper gratitude.

Simic gives us an image of that ground: "Like two stopped watches / In a dusty store window, // One golden morning of time." He likens himself and the "dark goddess" to watches. What do they have in common? The moment is his alone, no? It does seem something was shared, that he was more than acknowledged. That he gave something amusing or witty or worthwhile, helping create a memory for her.

Again, this poem leans close to cringe. I recall Demi Lovato's series of tweets:

I assume we can say that pleasantries were mutually, consensually exchanged. The parties involved made a lovely moment for each other. And they left it at that.

It's exceptionally tough to think about letting go as a prerequisite for appreciating beauty, but that hearkens to the classical understanding. I think it ties to why sight was considered the foremost of the senses. The distance sight gives you from an object is critical to knowledge. Knowledge doesn't come from possession. Otherwise, you don't need to know how the object works, as you can do what you want with it.

In like manner, beauty is best appreciated by praise and distance. For hopeless romantics who feel this is far too much moralizing, I can offer this. Simic doesn't end this poem with any kind of disappointment. There's a quiet confidence in the moment. It arrived once, and it will arrive again.