Page 3 - Ruminations
P. 3

1. Awake!

           The sudden realization of former ignorance or illusion is noted in
        many cultures: kenshō, piercing the veil of maya, Plato’s cave, Saul on
        the  road  to  Damascus,  and  on  up  through  the  hallucinatorily
        transcendental Sixties. It is often described as analogous to darkness
        changing  to  light,  an  “enlightenment”  in  which  something  not
        previously understood or accepted is abruptly perceived by the mind’s
        eye and its veracity validated in that instant.
           Literature with a proselytizing agenda, regardless of content, may
        seek to evoke that enlightenment directly. Curiously, despite their very
        different  intent,  both  An  Essay  on  Man  and  The  Rubaiyat  of  Omar
        Khayyam  begin  with  the  same  imperative:  Awake!  Both  poems  are
        polemical,  intending  to  change  the  reader’s  basic  perception  of  his
        place  in  the  cosmos;  they  are  calls  to  existential  reconsideration,
        starting from the viewpoint that the reader is sleepwalking through life
        under  profound  misapprehensions.  The  latter  are  effectively  dreams
        from which one may awaken by attending to the writer’s verse.
          Pope’s  intention  is  anti-rational,  indicting  mankind  for  ignoring
        reality  on  the  limited  scale  we  can  perceive  it  and  presuming  to
        understand the divine and its purposes. He held the half-awake view,
        still current in the West, that our Promethean quest for knowledge is
        not merely doomed but foolish: his idea of awakening is to avert the
        eyes and enjoy a sweet dream of unreason.
           FitzGerald, on the other hand, presents an ambivalent deist or early
        existentialist viewpoint cloaked in Eastern exoticism. His response to
        the  indifference  of  any  higher  power  to  human  fate  is  hedonism—
        exactly  what  religious  orthodoxy  uses  as  a  bogeyman  to  enforce
        conformity.  But  FitzGerald,  following  Omar’s  anti-clericalism,  goes
        further: irreligion. Thus one should both pursue sensual pleasure and
        condemn an uncaring universe and its deluded apologists.
          That complex response (love or wrath in quatrain 56) anticipates
        twentieth-century  reactions  to  “the  death  of  God”  and  the  birth  of
        ultimate  meaninglessness:  either  joyful  freedom  to  self-invent
        (Chesterton  in  Man  Alive,  despite  his  Catholicism)  or  angst  and
        depression (Camus, Sartre and every stripe of disappointed theologian
        ready to bolt for the comfort of Pope’s unknowable  but beneficent
        deity). The awakened attitude presented in FitzGerald’s “rendering” of
        medieval Persian poetry into a popular Romantic classic paradoxically
        presents a closer approximation to “enlightenment.”
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