Ja Well No Fine

Ja Well No Fine

By Free Association RadioSociety & CulturePersonal Journals
Download on the App Store

Ja Well No Fine episodes

  • 10. Things I Want Decided

    Inspired by Nader, Farritor and Schilliger's recent AI-assisted decryption of ancient texts, netting them the $1m Vesuvius Challenge Prize, I attempt to crack the code of a 1000 year old Japanese poem using Google's Gemini chatbot.

    I pose to Gemini the four cryptic questions in the form of a poem about love's paradoxes by Izumi Shikibu, whose work was celebrated by Kenneth Rexroth with the following words: “Of all the poets of the classical period, she has, to my mind, the deepest and most poignant Buddhist sensibility.”

    Can the latest Oogly Woogly Google tech finally solve riddles that have puzzled human readers and thinkers for centuries?

    --

    Things I Want Decided

    Which shouldn’t exist
    in this world,
    the one who forgets
    or the one
    who is forgotten?
    Which is better,
    to love
    one who has died
    or not to see
    each other when you are alive?
    Which is better,
    the distant lover
    you long for
    or the one you see daily
    without desire?
    Which is the least unreliable
    among fickle things—
    the swift rapids,
    a flowing river,
    or this human world?


    -Izumi Shikibu (tr. Jane Hirshfield)


    25 min
  • 9. Sentence

    An episode inspired by Tadeusz Dąbrowski's poem "Sentence", Nick Flynn's "Tattoo" and Jack Gilbert's "The Answer":


    SENTENCE

    It's as if you'd woken in a locked cell and found

    in your pocket a slip of paper, and on it a single sentence
    in a language you don't know.

    And you'd be sure this sentence was the key to your
    life. Also to this cell.

    And you'd spend years trying to decipher the sentence,
    until finally you'd understand it. But after a while
    you'd realize you got it wrong, and the sentence meant
    something else entirely. And so you'd have two sentences.

    Then three, and four, and ten, until you'd created a new language.

    And in that language you'd write the novel of your life.
    And once you'd reached old age you'd notice the door of the cell
    was open. You'd go out into the world. You'd walk the length and
    breadth of it,

    until in the shade of a massive tree you'd yearn
    for that one single sentence in a language you don't know.

    TATTOO


    You do know, right,

    that between the no-

    longer & the still-

    to-come

    you are being continually

    tattooed, inked

    with the skulls of

    everyone

    you’ve ever loved—the you

    & the you

    & the you & the you—you don’t

    sit in a chair, thumb

    through a binder, pick a

    design, it simply

    happens each time you

    bring your fingers to your face

    to inhale him back into you . . .

    tiny skulls, some of us are

    covered. You, love, could

    simply tattoo an open

    door, light

    pouring in from somewhere

    outside, you

    could make your body a door

    so it appears you

    (let her fill you) are made

    of light.


    THE ANSWER

    Is the clarity, the simplicity, an arriving
    or an emptying out? If the heart persists
    in waiting, does it begin to lessen?
    If we are always good, does God lose track
    of us? When I wake at night, there is
    something important there. Like the humming
    of giant turbines in the high-ceilinged stations
    in the slums. There is a silence in me,
    absolute and inconvenient. I am haunted
    by the day I walked through the Greek village
    where everyone was asleep and somebody began
    playing Chopin, slowly, faintly, inside
    the upper floor of a plain white stone house.


    TOPICS COVERED: Alienation; Analytical preparation; Ashberry's trees; Authenticity; Birth and self-discovery; Boundaries of essence; Communication dynamics; Confinement vs. liberation; Consciousness; Contemplation of existence; Cosmic symbolism; Cultural backgrounds; Daily Mail controversy; Deciphering life's language; Developmental path; Disorientation and discovery; Emotional reactivity; Enlightenment and insight; Estrangement and alienation; Ethical boundaries in therapy; Experience of reading a poem; Exploration of self; Expression and concealment; Fowles' "The Magus"; Genie metaphor; Gilbert's "The Answer"; Goldilocks metaphor; Human existential trajectory; Identity construction; Illusion of continuity; Individuality vs. collective unconscious; Intercostal nerves and pain; Interpersonal misunderstanding; Interpretation of symbols; Introspection and growth; Kabbalah and symbolism; Language as a cage; Language's role in suffering; Liberation magic; Life-defining tattoos; Linguistic clichés; Locked cell metaphor; Masson's "Final Analysis"; Merwin's trees; Misunderstanding as growth; Mystic union with God; Narrative construction; Neurological aspects of communication; Personal biases; Physical and mental isolation; Poetic inspiration; Potential for exploitation; Psychoanalytic dynamics; Ramanujan's trees; Recycled materials of past experiences; Relational nuances; Revelation of self-awareness; Rites of passage; Schiffer's character and influence; Self-awareness dawn; Semiotics of Hebrew letters; Silence and bliss; Social contexts; Spiritual symbolism; Stafford's "The Interior Castle"; Symbolic language complexity; Symbolic realm's labyrinth; Symbols interpretation; Tattoo as therapeutic act; Therapeutic boundaries; Transformation through language; Unraveling of human story; Vulnerability and humility.

    [Transcript of episode]

    43 min
  • 8. Variatons on the Right to Remain Silent

    Being an Anne Carson megafan (looking forward to her new collection ⁠Wrong Norma ⁠published this month) I decided to spend an evening with an artefact she created in 2016 called ⁠Float⁠ comprising 22 chapbooks held together in whatever order you choose to read them in, one of which is an essay that I’m about to read here.

    This essay, "⁠Variations on the Right to Remain Silent"⁠, is also linked to my favourite poem in Float which can be found in the chapbook Candor, written originally for a performance piece with dancer Rashaun Mitchell.


    COULD I

    If you are not the free person you want to be you must find a place to tell the truth about that. To tell how things go for you. Candor is like a skein being produced inside the belly day after day, it has to get itself woven out somewhere. You could whisper down a well. You could write a letter and keep it in a drawer. You could inscribe a curse on a ribbon of lead and bury it in the ground to lie unread for thousands of years. The point is not to find a reader, the point is the telling itself. Consider a person standing alone in a room. The house is silent. She is looking down at a piece of paper. Nothing else exists. All her veins go down into this paper. She takes her pen and writes on it some marks no one else will ever see, she bestows on it a kind of surplus, she tops it off with a gesture as private and accurate as her own name.


    I've called "Variations on the Right to Remain Silent" an essay, but I prefer to think of it as An Event, or a kind of Performance - or a weird and delightful lecture.

    If you’re anything like me, finding such a koan is usually followed by an overwhelming desire to share. Hence. 


    POEMS REFERRED TO IN THIS EPISODE:

    Fragment 286

    In spring, on the one hand,
    the Kydonian apple trees,
    being watered by streams of rivers
    where the uncut garden of the maidens [is and vine blossoms
    swelling
    beneath shady vine branches,
    bloom.
    On the other hand, for me Eros lies quiet at no season.
    Nay rather,
    like a Thracian north wind
    ablaze with lightning,
    rushing from Aphrodite
    accompanied by parching madnesses,
    black, unastonishable,
    powerfully,
    right up from the bottom of my feet [it] shakes my whole breathing being.

    -⁠Ibykos⁠


    Tubingen, January

    Eyes talked over
    to blindness. Their—
    riddle is the purely
    orginated"—, their
    memory of
    swimming Hölderlintowers, gull-
    whirredaround.

    Visits of drowned joiners to

    these
    diving words:
    Came,
    came a man,
    came a man to the world, today, with
    the lightbeard of
    the prophets: he could,
    if he spoke of this
    time, he
    could,
    only stammer and stammer,
    over-, over-
    againagain.
    ("Pallaksch. Pallaksch.")


    -Paul Celan

    TOPICS/THEMES:


    Adam and Eve,

    Aphrodite,

    Artistic representation and interpretation,

    Authenticity and translation,

    Bacon, Francis,

    Catastrophe as a creative force,

    Celan, Paul,

    Cliché and its avoidance,

    Communication barriers,

    Consciousness and self-awareness,

    Divine versus human language,

    Greek lyric poetry,

    Historical and cultural translation,

    Hölderlin, Friedrich,

    Immortality and the divine,

    Individual versus authority conflict,

    Joan of Arc,

    Language's limitations and potential,

    Madness as a method of understanding,

    Metaphorical versus literal interpretation,

    Mythology's influence on art and literature,

    Nature of reality and perception,

    Personal identity and expression,

    Power of silence and absence,

    Rembrandt,

    Relationship between language and thought,

    Role of the translator,

    Sacred versus profane knowledge,

    Struggle against conventional norms,

    Subjectivity of experience,

    Untranslatability and the ineffable,

    Violence and its representation

    54 min
  • 7. You See, I Want A Lot

    An episode inspired by two Dalton Day poems: "Love Poem" and "An Understanding" (from the chapbook Overlay).

    All poems referenced in the episode (in order of appearance):  

    YOU SEE I WANT A LOT

    You see, I want a lot.

    Perhaps I want everything:
    The darkness that comes with every infinite fall
    And the shivering blaze of every step up.

    So many live on and want nothing

    And are raised to the rank of prince
    By the slippery ease of their light judgments

    But what you love to see are faces

    That do work and feel thirst…

    You have not grown old,

    And it is not too late to dive
    Into your increasing depths where life
    Calmly gives out its own secret.

    -Rilke

    LOVE POEM

    Every now & then like a gazillion cicadas

    dig their way out of the dark earth
    & they are screaming against the air,
    against the very thing they have clawed
    their way into, & the time we call summer
    is stitched with this terror, this gratitude
    for knowing something will happen
    & still having some sense of awe
    when it actually does, & what I'm saying is,
    I feel like that, even when I don't.

    -Dalton Day

    AN UNDERSTANDING

    Because howling

    is scary we
    begin to cover
    our eyes.

    Because covering

    our eyes
    is scary we
    begin to go underground.

    Because going underground

    is scary we begin to talk to each other.
    Because talking to each other
    is scary we
    begin to howl.

    One time,

    I knew your name.
    I said it to you every night.
    It sounded like
    AOOOOOOOOO
    AOOOOOOOOO
    AOOOOOOOOO.

    -Dalton Day

    STOP THINKING AND END YOUR PROBLEMS

    How do I know that it’s “good”? I can’t compare it to anything.

    I think it’s largely unconscious, feels like a collective decision, not a chain of events.
    I think you just have to let it wash over you, like pain.
    I think of it as a very dramatic form of giving up.
    (It is pitch black outside, not the colour black but rather a complete absence of light.)
    I think it’s related to how you pick up your friends’ speech patterns. But more unsettling and intense.
    I just think it’s weird to sit around waiting to develop a sixth sense.
    I think it’s fooling yourself into thinking you’re thinking.
    I think it’s philosophical and physical and have not gotten a good answer.

    Everything reminds me of it, but I don’t know what “it” is.

    -Elisa Gabbert (remixed version | full poem)

    --

    LINKS: 

    Saved By A Poem (Kim Rosen)

    Becoming Animal: An Earthly Cosmology (David Abram)

    The Wheels On The Bus (Noodle & Pals Version)

    Drop It Like It's Hot (Snoop Dogg)

    Brown Cicada Being Made To Scream By A Human Animal

    Going Sane (Adam Phillips)

    Dvořák: Gypsy Melodies, Op. 55, B. 104 - IV. Songs My Mother Taught Me (Arr. Soltani For Solo Cello and Cello Ensemble)

    I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl (Nina Simone: Live Version | album track)

    Transcript

    --

    TOPICS COVERED IN THIS EPISODE (in alphabetical order):

    Abram, David; Appetite; Awakenings; Becoming Animal; Being; Buddhism; Carnal Knowledge; Cicadas; Cloned Voices; Consciousness; Creativity; Dalton Day; Death; Desire; Disappointment; Disconnection; Dreams; Ego; Elisa Gabbert; Emergence; Emotion; Empathy; Enlightenment; Essence; Existentialism; Expression; Fear; Fulfillment; Gwyneth Paltrow; Healing; Hot Yoga Teachers; Human Experience; Identity; Imagination; Indigenous Tribes; Inevitability; Insights; Instinct; Intellectual Curiosity; Introspection; Joy; Knowledge; Language; Learning; Liberation; Life; Longing; Love; Love Poem; Mastery; Meaning-Making; Memory; Misfits; Music; Nature; Neurons; Nursery Rhymes; Pain; Passion; Perception; Philosophy; Poem; Poetry; Practice; Psychoanalysis; Psychotherapy; Reciprocity; Reflection; Relationships; Resonance; Rilke, Rainer Maria; Rituals; Rosen, Kim; Samsara; Self-Awareness; Self-Improvement; Shamanism; Sheffield; Social Dynamics; Somatic Memory; South-East Asia; Speechify; Spiritual; Suffering; Symbolism; Terror; Therapy; Thought; Transformation; Transcendence; Understanding; Utterance; Validation; Vision; Voice; Wanting; Workshop; Yoga; Zen.

    28 min
  • 6. Peaches

    An episode inspired by two Wendell Berry poems:

    A MEETING

    In a dream I meet

    my dead friend. She has,
    I know, gone long and far,
    and yet she is the same
    for the dead are changeless.
    They grow no older.
    It is I who have changed,
    grown strange to what I was.
    Yet I, the changed one,
    ask: "How you been?"
    She grins and looks at me.
    "I been eating peaches
    off some mighty fine trees."

    EXCEPT

    Now that you have gone

    and I am alone and quiet,
    my contentment would be
    complete, if I did not wish
    you were here so I could say,
    “How good it is, Tanya,
    to be alone and quiet.”
    --
    LINKS:
    Jack Black's Peaches

    Bieber's Peaches

    Mahalia's Peaches

    Virgins? What Virgins? (Moslem Martyrs)

    Adam Phillips & Devorah Baum (Attention Seeking)

    Text version (with longer/better explanation of W.D. Hamilton's R-values!)


    19 min
  • 5. The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song

    An episode inspired by Noor Hindi's poem 🐳 The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song 🐳


    The World’s Loneliest Whale Sings the Loudest Song & Other Confessions

    I won’t make metaphors out of fish.

    If I have to die, I choose the ocean. If I have to live, I choose you.

    You: Everyone I’ve ever mourned.

    I believe less & less of sunlight these days. I won’t die alone.

    To awaken crying is to awaken displaced. Ghost of your joy in the bathtub. A face in the mirror. Your nephew’s painting in the foyer.

    My mother cried in bedrooms growing up. I would study her for hours.

    In a study, researchers learned patients who cried less are likely to have dismissive attachment styles.

    Today, every bedroom in the house is mine. I stopped crying at age 12.

    As a child, I spoke a language no one understood.

    Research suggests loneliness increases cardiovascular disease.

    When my cousin died, she died alone. When the world collapsed around Darwish, he wrote of coffee and sex.

    When you held my body close to yours, I thought of clementines, sweet citrus, all the world’s lemons we’d temper with honey.

    The world’s loneliest whale sings the loudest song.

    This is what you’ll tell me the first time we meet.

    And I’ll think about the ocean. And I’ll think about you.

    I never learned how to swim. I’ve been drowning my whole life.

    Studies suggest drowning lasts 1-3 minutes. But I’ll never stop grieving.

    Scientists are still searching for the 52-hertz whale. But I swear he’s here. In my bedroom.

    And I can hear him. And he’s telling me I can stop.

    -Noor Hindi



    The Loneliest Whale In The World

    The Tone Deaf Saltburn TikTok Dance Craze

    Noor Hindi - FPAC Speaker Series Presentation

    13 min
  • 4. Basic Trust

    In this episode, I explore our longing for basic trust, weaving together poetry (Pat Schneider, Rilke), philosophy (the Stoical idea of Logos, Cosmic Indifference, Animism), and psychology (Ego Psychology, Object Relations, and the developmental impact of early relationships) in order to make sense of our mistrust and the desire for deeper, authentic connections in a digital and fragmented world.

    I suggest that this existential trust, foundational to well-being, is often found in the poetics of objects, putting us on the path to discovering the You we need in our lives.


    SEGMENTS:


    (00:00) The Art of Online Personas: Decoding the Facade of Dating Profiles

    (03:00) Unveiling Basic Trust: Perspectives from A.H. Almaas on Digital Connections

    (04:35) Stoic Echoes in the Modern Psyche: Linking Logos to Basic Trust

    (05:18) Rational Cosmos, Illusion of Free Will: Stoicism's View on Life's Order

    (08:41) Embracing Cosmic Virtue: Stoicism's Guide to Harmonious Living

    (9:50) Cosmic Indifference versus Inherent Benevolence: A Philosophical Dilemma

    (10:41) Science and the Search for Universal Goodness: The Stoic Conundrum Faced With Camus' Absurd

    (12:46) The Formation of Self: Insights from Ego Psychology and Early Experiences

    (13:24) Decoding Personality: The Role of The Enneagram and MBTI in Ego Development

    (19:09) Assessing Basic Trust: A Basic Trust Assessment

    (21:58) Animism: Rebuilding Trust through a Connected Worldview?

    (25:20) Ordinary Things, Extraordinary Patience: Finding Connection in Animism?


    The Patience of Ordinary Things


    It is a kind of love, is it not?
    How the cup holds the tea,
    How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
    How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
    Or toes. How soles of feet know
    Where they’re supposed to be.
    I’ve been thinking about the patience
    Of ordinary things, how clothes
    Wait respectfully in closets
    And soap dries quietly in the dish,
    And towels drink the wet
    From the skin of the back.
    And the lovely repetition of stairs.
    And what is more generous than a window?


    -Pat Schneider


    The Inner Rose


    Where is there for this inner
    an outer? Upon which hurt
    does one lay such fine linen?
    And which heavens are reflected within them,
    upon the interior seas
    of these open roses, these carefree ones, see:
    how loose in looseness
    they lie, as if a trembling hand
    could never tip them over.
    They can hardly hold themselves
    erect; many allow themselves
    be filled all too full and flow
    over from inner space
    into the days, which, ever
    more and more full, close in upon themselves,
    until the entire summer becomes
    a chamber, a chamber in a dream.


    -Rainer-Maria Rilke (tr. Mitchell)


    Resources and Reference:

    -Facets of Unity (A.H. Aalmas)

    -In Our Time: Marcus Aurelius (Radio 4)

    -The Handbook of Contemporary Animism (edited by Graham Harvey)

    -Graham Harvey’s Animist Manifesto

    -Michal Zerkowski's article about Irving Hallowell's research on the Ojibwe animism

    -The Perception of The Environment: Essays on Livelihood, Dwelling, and Skill (Tim Ingold)


    Music:

    -Breathless (Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds)

    -Chips & Dip (Sam Greenfield)

    -With You (Teenage Fanclub)

    -Nocturnes & Meditations (Matt Tondut)
    -Goldberg Variations, BWV 988: Variation 1 (Arr. for Harp) - Parker Ramsay

    -When Everything Fades (Matt Tondut)

    31 min
  • 3. Travelling Light?

    Primarily an excuse to play you Tindersticks' gorgeous "Travelling Light", but also an attempt to unravel in 15 minutes the world of referential delusions, where ordinary events assume personal significance in ways that cross the boundary between quirky beliefs and mental disorders.

    Meet, my ex-client 'Eric' and his unshakable notion that love signals are being played to him, and him alone, from a DJ's playlist who professes to have no romantic interest in him at all.

    The poem mentioned in the episode is this one by Elizabeth Bishop:


    One Art

    The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
    so many things seem filled with the intent
    to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
    Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
    of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
    The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
    Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
    places, and names, and where it was you meant
    to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
    I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
    next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
    The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
    I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
    some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
    I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
    —Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
    I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
    the art of losing’s not too hard to master
    though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

    20 min
  • 2. Philosophy

    Parallels drawn between Marcus Aurelius's Meditations and Byron Katie’s Loving What Is, with a nod to the Philosopher King’s son, Commodus (“a bit of a shit” - Cassio Dio, History of the Roman Empire).


    Also, some late Wallace Stevens, doing "The Work”.


    The Plain Sense of Things

    After the leaves have fallen, we return

    To a plain sense of things. It is as if
    We had come to an end of the imagination,
    Inanimate in an inert savoir.
    It is difficult even to choose the adjective
    For this blank cold, this sadness without cause.
    The great structure has become a minor house.
    No turban walks across the lessened floors.
    The greenhouse never so badly needed paint.
    The chimney is fifty years old and slants to one side.
    A fantastic effort has failed, a repetition
    In a repetitiousness of men and flies.
    Yet the absence of the imagination had
    Itself to be imagined. The great pond,
    The plain sense of it, without reflections, leaves,
    Mud, water like dirty glass, expressing silence
    Of a sort, silence of a rat come out to see,
    The great pond and its waste of the lilies, all this
    Had to be imagined as an inevitable knowledge,
    Required, as a necessity requires.

    17 min
  • 1. Ravenous Want

    Our desire for meaningful communication with an inner or outer You in W.S. Graham's What Is The Language Using Us For, and Maureen McClane's Open Sky.


    OPEN SKY

    open sky—
    what you want?
    what you want I
    want for you, want
    whatever you want
    when you say you want
    everything under the sky—
    is that what everyone wants
    never to die—
    what you want?
    what you want I
    want for you, want
    what you want
    when you say you want
    never to die
    except when you want
    nothing—
    what you want?
    nothing's something
    to want, something
    annihilating,
    something beyond want
    that stops at nothing—
    ravenous want

    4 min

About Ja Well No Fine

From the publisher's feed

Five minutes a day to roasting the idiot in his ego cage.