Saturday, January 27, 2024

Two Seven Letter Words that Make Us Human

 





 

There are seven notes

In a scale

When minor but eight

In melodic

 

There are seven days

In a lifetime

When harmony fills the soul

In content

 

There are seven dwarfs

 

For each Snow White

Fairest in the land

Exiled to a cottage

 

There are seven satellites

Around Neptune

But Pluto, the dwarf planet

Has only five moons

 

In Greek, Spanish and Italian

Cats have

Seven lives

They carry out alone

 

There are seven words

For love in Greek

From eros, philautia and ludus

To pragma and agàpe

 

But

There are two words

Of seven letters made

That all alive, in all times

And in all languages

Wonder alike

 

"FOREVER"

and

"ETERNAL"

 

January 27, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024

Monday, January 22, 2024

Nights in a Ship

 







Two nights in a ship

Watch the drift

On the forgetting sea

Leave no trace

Of the passage

 

There is no fear

Just the joy of silence

Wrapped in the mist

Of what once were

Tempests

 

There is no more wonder

Of discovery in sunrises

Or of the unknown paths

Which once

Found new coves

 

Two nights in a ship

At peace

With the journey

 

January 22, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024

Thursday, January 11, 2024

Jamais Vu – When the Familiar Becomes Unknown

 



 

I grew up in a home of music, medicine, literature and the arts. In addition to the daily stimulus the environment provided to our budding brains, my parents made sure that my siblings and I learned about exploration by reading. In fact, we did not have much choice – only my father watched TV exclusively for tennis and soccer matches, and there were no naked walls in the apartment. All vertical spaces were covered with bookshelves, hanging wool or silk carpets, and paintings.

So, I started daily reading very early in my life. Often these were children’s books my parents would give us to read and then tell them what the story was. Other times, driven by curiosity, I would pick a book and try to read. We did not understand most of what we read, but that tabula rasa of a brain found ample space to store things. And over the years, uninvited and capriciously, these silent words found their way to help us understand our life experiences.

One of the books that influenced the 60 years of my life after reading it was “L’oiseau Bleu” (The Blue Bird) by Belgian poet Maurice Maeterlinck. Premiered as a theatre play in 1908, it tells the story of girl called Mytyl and her brother Tytyl in search of happiness by symbolically pursuing The Blue Bird of Happiness. Their search is directed and helped by a kind fairy called Bérylune. After learning about material riches and opulence, brother and sister return home only to realize that happiness was at home, all that time, in their backyard.

I recall my father telling us, at numerous crossroads of our lives “remember, the Blue Bird is in your backyard, do not look for it in other places.

And time passed. And I eventually returned “home” to indeed understand what Maeterlinck was saying.

 

... I was reading about a new research that got the Ig Nobel Prize in 2023. This Nobel Prize is an eclectic recognition of unusual studies that “make people laugh and then make people think” about topics encompassing medicine, science and literature. I therefore enjoy allowing my curiosity to learn about the research honored through these annual Prizes.

The Prize winning research tackles the rather intriguing and clever question about the possible anti-thesis (or opposite) of the “déjà vu” phenomenon when the mind is engaged in the same repetitive processes. The “jamais vu” (never seen) experience is not a new concept or phenomenon, but exploring the association between repetitive action and jamais vu may be new research.  The authors (neuroscientists from Université de Grenoble Alpes (UGA)) define the thesis and anti-thesis as follows:

Repetition has a strange relationship with the mind. Take the experience of déjà vu, when we wrongly believe we have experienced a novel situation in the past – leaving us with a spooky sense of pastness.

Jamais vu may involve looking at a familiar face and finding it suddenly unusual or unknown. Musicians have it momentarily – losing their way in a very familiar passage of music. You may have had it going to a familiar place and becoming disoriented or seeing it with “new eyes.”

It is an experience which is even rarer than déjà vu and perhaps even more unusual and unsettling. When you ask people to describe it in questionnaires about experiences in daily life they give accounts like: “While writing my exams, I write a word correctly like ‘appetite’ but I keep looking at the word over and over again because I have second thoughts that it might be wrong.”

Ok, I am not wearing my academic researcher hat as I quote the research since it is not a new definition or observation. Indeed, in clinical psychology, “jamais vu” is associated with aphasia, epilepsy, and some types of amnesia. In fact, there is yet a third variant of this phenomenon defined as presque vu (almost seen) when we feel that something is on the “tip of our tongue” even when we had not known that word, name or place before. Or, “almost” remembering something that we may or may not have experienced before.

 

So, why did this non-novel research got me thinking? In an interesting way, it felt like déjà vu and jamais vu at the same time. Especially because it brought back (what was the connection?) the guidance L’oiseau Bleu gave to my behavior – that we often engage on journeys in search of beauty, love, comfort, etc without first exploring what is around us. And, that we do not often realise that what we seem to remember across our repetitive and repeating journeys were not discoveries but wishes.

Or as R.M. Rilke said

                                       The only journey is the journey within

It is the serpentine flow of that internal river that makes our journey an adventure. But the comfort I most feel is when Rilke’s definition becomes a repetitive search, not an experiment for discovery. In some ways, it is like looking in the mirror with a purpose, time and time again.

And, as I took yet another trip on that inner river while writing these lines, I repeatedly “heard” my mother telling me and my siblings

“If you look for beauty, do not forget to take it in you on your search. If not, you will never find it”

And what a lovely search it has been!

 

January 11, 2024

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2024