Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost
If my mind zooms out too far I think about how we are a speck of nothing inside of a massive nothing.
If my mind zooms in too far I am overwhelmed at the energy spent, the complexity of my sustained existence.
Then if my mind switches gears from the academic discipline of natural science to poetry within the branch of humanities my mind becomes even more encumbered. I read this poem over and over and I find such beauty. I find such meaning. This was written by a temporary form of organic matter existing on Earth for a moment in time. That's it?
I don't believe it. My mind feels like the Stanza della Segnatura holding all of this contradiction in one room.
Sometimes when I look at these celebrities in articles or the news I imagine them stripped down. Stripped of their titles, stripped of their designer clothes, stripped of their apathetic confidence in their lack of hunger. stripped of their security. What are they? Their hearts are just as fragile as a deer's. Their lungs just as dependent on that next breath as a rabbit. We are all so powerless. I imagine how we would view these people if they ate stooped to the ground shoveling with their bare hands. Would we view our selves so elevated from the rest of life on the planet if we didn't strive so much to separate ourselves?
In the cold dark wilderness of the woods far from civilization and social obligations Frost contemplates stopping. Giving it all up. We as humans fight so hard to create this division from the world.
We cut our hair,
we trim our nails,
we shave our bodies,
we put on costumes,
we prepare our meals on plates with napkins
we bring the food to our mouths with utensils
But in this moment for just a second Frost, as all of us have also considered, what if I gave up? What if I stopped fighting the current? What if I quit? But I can't. We can't. Our domesticated animal brings us back into focus with the shaking of harness bells.
Our bodies so crave rest. Our natural selves plead for the satisfaction of every desire of the body.
Lust
Gluttony
Sloth
Death
But to live is to fight. This is why the healthy food isn't as sweet as candy. This is why the evening jog burns. This is why the morning bed grasps so tight.
We must shave, we must brush, we must dress, we must stand upright rebelling the pull of gravity. Because we exist. Because we are. Because there is more than just a pale blue dot floating in nothing. Because we are more than just the sum of trillions of cells.
Because we have miles to go before we sleep.
NOVO AMOR - From Gold
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
-Robert Frost
If my mind zooms out too far I think about how we are a speck of nothing inside of a massive nothing.
If my mind zooms in too far I am overwhelmed at the energy spent, the complexity of my sustained existence.
Then if my mind switches gears from the academic discipline of natural science to poetry within the branch of humanities my mind becomes even more encumbered. I read this poem over and over and I find such beauty. I find such meaning. This was written by a temporary form of organic matter existing on Earth for a moment in time. That's it?
I don't believe it. My mind feels like the Stanza della Segnatura holding all of this contradiction in one room.
Sometimes when I look at these celebrities in articles or the news I imagine them stripped down. Stripped of their titles, stripped of their designer clothes, stripped of their apathetic confidence in their lack of hunger. stripped of their security. What are they? Their hearts are just as fragile as a deer's. Their lungs just as dependent on that next breath as a rabbit. We are all so powerless. I imagine how we would view these people if they ate stooped to the ground shoveling with their bare hands. Would we view our selves so elevated from the rest of life on the planet if we didn't strive so much to separate ourselves?
In the cold dark wilderness of the woods far from civilization and social obligations Frost contemplates stopping. Giving it all up. We as humans fight so hard to create this division from the world.
We cut our hair,
we trim our nails,
we shave our bodies,
we put on costumes,
we prepare our meals on plates with napkins
we bring the food to our mouths with utensils
But in this moment for just a second Frost, as all of us have also considered, what if I gave up? What if I stopped fighting the current? What if I quit? But I can't. We can't. Our domesticated animal brings us back into focus with the shaking of harness bells.
Our bodies so crave rest. Our natural selves plead for the satisfaction of every desire of the body.
Lust
Gluttony
Sloth
Death
But to live is to fight. This is why the healthy food isn't as sweet as candy. This is why the evening jog burns. This is why the morning bed grasps so tight.
We must shave, we must brush, we must dress, we must stand upright rebelling the pull of gravity. Because we exist. Because we are. Because there is more than just a pale blue dot floating in nothing. Because we are more than just the sum of trillions of cells.
Because we have miles to go before we sleep.
NOVO AMOR - From Gold