general reflection on how "Romanticism" influences me

I have to pick up a thought which I wrote in my last Blog entry because I still have to think about it – or maybe even more. It is the thought how the Romantics influence my way of thinking and how I see the world.
In Germany I study ‘Applied Literary and Cultural Studies’ as a major and ‘Music’ and Journalism/mass communication’ as minors. I chose this because I was looking for something that deals with Literature and Music. So this seemed to be a good solution. In this field of study there are a lot of practical classes where we learn how to organize a lecture etc. However, I more and more get the feeling that I lack in some basics. Maybe it is because we are very free to choose the classes we want to. But after a while I realized that I need the basics, that I want to know the important literary epochs. I do not need them for my study but for myself. (Eventually I should have chosen Literary Studies instead of “Applied….” ?). And so I decided to take the Romanticsm class. My expectations were very …how to say…fact-orientated? You know, at school you learn to identify a literary work and its epoche by several characteristics etc. And now? Now I am caught by the Romantic poets and their thoughts, I really try to understand what they were writing about (and it feels so much better than only learning characteristics and attributes although it is much more difficult). Some lyrics are just beautiful, some complicated (cf. Beachy Head, Marriage of Heaven and Hell), some timeless – and some thoughts are also questionable but it is worth to think about them. Somehow the Romantic thoughts touch, affect, influence me. I still have to figure this out. I even started to redefine my intellectual concept. I really adore that and how certain people reflect(ed) on their world ort he world at all. And I questioned myself if I should not start to think about it as well instead of ‘drifting along’. I begun to reread Kant and went to the library to borrow Goethe’s “Faust” – which I enjoyed when I read it at school. This is a starting point. By reading, reflecting on and hopefully understanding these and other works I try to…honestly, I still do not really know but I try to get a better understanding of the world…
There is one more thing I had to think about: I went to a Waldorf School. Every morning we had to speak the following morning verse:
I gaze into the world
in which the sun is shining
in which the stars are sparkling
in which the stones repose
where living plants are growing
where sentient beasts are living
where man soul gifted gives
the spirit a dwelling place

I gaze into my soul
that lives within my being
the world creator weaves
in sunlight and in soul light
in world space therewithout
in soul depths herewithin
to thee creator spirit
i will now turn my heart
to ask that the strength and the blessing
to learn and to work
may grow within my innermost being.
By Rudolf Steiner

I did not really think about the meaning when I was a teenager. But now, almost 3 years after I finished school I remember this verse and start to think about it. And I believe it was/is a try to make us aware of the world in its whole creation… it is another way to describe the way, different from Wordsworth’s or any other Romantic poet but still a way.
I have a huge amount of work and reading to do, I know, but it feels good, I feel good when I think about it; it feels right at the very moment.

Transcending the Senses

Where silent zephyrs sported with the dust

Of the Bastille, I sate in the open sun,

And from the rubbish gathered up a stone

And pocketed the Relic in the guise

Of an Enthusiast; yet, in honest truth,

I looked for Something that I could not find,

Affecting more emotion than I felt…

-William Wordsworth

The Prelude, Book Ninth

Reading these lines, I thought back to my recent summer experience throughout Belgium and the surrounding major cities, namely Paris and Amsterdam. Traveling to Europe, I enthusiastically awaited my encounter with the places that promised an awakening experience. I would finally see, smell, feel—ultimately experience—the places where many of history’s greatest events unfolded; as if these experiences would somehow reaffirm all the things that I had learned, to finally make complete sense of things, to reach a true understanding. However, this understanding cemented within the senses did not come.

As Wordsworth describes in these particular lines, he believes that by collecting a piece of the Bastille he would somehow become connected to the French Revolution; he would become a part of this cultural icon. Yet, upon Wordsworth’s possession of the stone, the reader is suddenly presented with a shift in the author’s psyche. This stone cannot provide that experience; the stone proves void of meaning. Wordsworth knows there has to be something else out there, something beyond empiricism.

Now presented with the realization of his limitations, Wordsworth suddenly becomes discouraged by the fact that his humanity bounds him; only so much can be fully grasped in the everyday. This particular episode marks a profound moment in Wordsworth’s road to disillusionment, for the senses provide only momentary feelings of meaning, feelings that instantly begin receding to an increasingly distant coast. Realizing that these feelings can only be renewed, Wordsworth becomes disenchanted as he ventures to discover a constant, something that cannot be taken away.

BH & what I've gathered.

Sure, this is a little late, but aren't the blogs for contemplated reactions? After discussing Beachy Head for the second day in a row, I can honestly say that I gathered little more than nothing from the discussion. Towards the end of our near 70 minute run though of the over 600 line blank verse poem, my main grasp it was that in order to understand where I am in the present, I must completely understand my history and that the minor details are what create the beautiful major picture. My first reading of the poem left me overwhelmed; there was so much detail and time-travel between lines that I was often left wondering where I was and how I got there. Prior to reading Beachy Head, I thought my history only included as far back as I could remember and perhaps the months before my birth. I thought more about this and considered adding how my parents got to together, some mention of my siblings and a few references to my extended family. If I leave out my Beau, he wouldn't be happy and of course, my grandparents and their story is important. My personal story now has some extra padding. I can't, however, leave out the recent events, such as the death of my mother and my dad's remarriage to my step mother, that have shaped the way I think about relationships and love. With the mention of my step mother, I find that I cannot leave her out and must add her to my story. The fact that some details from our (my stepmother's and my own) backgrounds are similar is something that cannot be ignored and I add them. My story has become a kind of gumbo and like gumbo, leaving out seemingly minor things can change the entire pot. Once, my grandma left the okra out of her famous gumbo and it looked like a thin soup. It tasted good, but something was missing. We can all share the basic parts of our history, from birth to present, and the story will make some sense. To achieve the effect BH has, however, there are certain things to keep in mind. Using Smith's Beachy Head as the example, I've found that details, no matter how minor or major, should not be left out. These pieces are what make the story, well, taste good.

Home in Blanc: A Personal Note

The piece, “Monte Blanc” really connected with me. I’ve loved all the works that we have read, but the imagery reminded me so much of my hometown. I’m originally from Hawaii and although its very different from France, the mountainous scenery means so much to me.
As the “…lending splendour, where from the secret springs/ The source of human thought its tribute brings/ of waters, - with a sound but half its own” (line 4-6). Just as the secret springs of Mount Blanc speak eternally the Pauoa Valley and Nu’uanu are deep with cervices and pockets of jungle. It is within the beaming light of the sun that shows the green depth of each drape in the landscape. Even more powerful is the eternal darkness of each night that shadows engulf the mountain and the only way to see it are the small lights from the houses covering the mountain side.
The biggest connection between “Monte Blanc” and my hometown is how I understand Shelley’s acknowledgement of the eternal existence of the landmass. This too I draw great comfort in. Even though I can only go back to Hawaii during the summer because of how far and expensive it is, like “the still and solemn power of many sights” this sight is never changing for my home.

Thinking, feeling...emotion vs. reason

“I think, therefore I am” says Descartes. The human being is a thinking being, it is characterized by thinking, differs from other beings in being able to think, rethink and memorize. I have often asked myself: do I think too much about things, do I reflect too much? Although there is nothing wrong with thinking and reflecting I again asked myself if it doesn’t make my life more complicated than it has to be. Should not I just act, doing, follow my feelings? Just live? However, is this possible, a life without reflection? To think about, to meditate on my own acting and non-acting, does not this belong to life?
And the Romantics have born me out in this and made me insecure at the same time. Wordsworth speaks about “pleasant thoughts/ [that ]Bring sad thoughts to the mind”(Lines Written in Early Spring, ll.3-4). So, too much thinking destroys our feel for nature and our surrounding. We always call something into question instead of enjoying it. We do not see the beautiful things around us because we are lost in thoughts. And is not this the case: you sit somewhere, let your mind wander; and suddenly you think about something you have not thought before and do not want to think about it because these thoughts are unpleasant, painful, too complicated? Wordsworth and Smith both write about that live in harmony with nature is more valuable than studying, reading, writing: “ Books! ‘tis is a dull and endlesse strife:/ […]Let Nature be your teacher”(The Tables Turned, ll. 9+16).
But there is the conflict. The adult cannot enjoy nature; he has to think about it. He lost his innocence, his childish innocence to just experience life and the world. He lost his innocence at the very moment he starts thinking about it. The moment of realizing ends the innocence. So one excludes the other. However, „A timely utterance gave that thought [realizing the loss of innocence] relief“ and makes strong again, writes Wordsworth (Ode. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, ll. 23-24) .Recollection, reflection destroys and cures at the same time. This remembers me of Blake: you have to destroy in order to create.
In the Romantic Period emotion is often preferred to reason. At least this is what I took from the poems. And this confuses me. Is there a line between mind and reason? Is it possible to separate these two things at all? In The Marriage of Heaven and Hell Blake clearly prefers imagination to reason. And this leads me to Kant who is of the opinion that reason must not be influenced by emotion and imaginations in order to make the right decisions.
Thinking or feeling? Thinking and feeling? Feeling, then thinking? These are questions I still cannot answer. Maybe, I will never find the answer. Probably, there is not an answer at all.
A few days ago I had a very intensive conversation with a good friend from Germany. Here, it was late in the evening, there, it was early in the morning, so Barbauld is right when she says “This dead of midnight is the noon of thoughts” (A Summer Evening’s Meditation, l. 51). We exactly talked about the question of thinking/feeling/acting. And we could not find an answer, too. Nevertheless, I really enjoyed the discussion; I like conversations like this one.
Honestly spoken: I would never have expected that the Romantic thoughts concerns me so much and even influences me. I would never have thought that the Romantic is so up to date – or timeless. Not only clouds and daffodils but deep thoughts and opinions that questions everything. Unbelievable mental and conceptual depth. Hard to understand – but it is worthwhile thinking about it. And again: thinking. The circle closes…