https://www.etymonline.com/word/understand

Extract

Old English understandan “comprehend, grasp the idea of,” probably literally “stand in the midst of,” from under + standan “to stand” (see stytand (v.)). If this is the meaning, the under is not the usual word meaning “beneath,” but from Old English under, from PIE *nter- “between, among” (source also of Sanskrit antar “among, between,” Latin inter “between, among,” Greek entera “intestines;” see inter-). Related: Understood; understanding.

That is the suggestion in Barnhart, but other sources regard the “among, between, before, in the presence of” sense of Old English prefix and preposition under as other meanings of the same word. “Among” seems to be the sense in many Old English compounds that resemble understand, such as underniman“to receive,” undersecan “examine, investigate, scrutinize” (literally “underseek”), underðencan“consider, change one’s mind,” underginnan “to begin.” It also seems to be the sense still in expressions such as under such circumstances.

A stranger, meeting us, who shares a glance
A moment almost gone before it’s here,
Trusts the understanding ,trusts balance

A separation crossed by happy chance
Indicating how we  may now  bear
A stranger meeting, one who shares a glance

Strangers in a sense, but now we dance
The pattern is  alive whoever’s where
Trusts the standing,moving keeps  balance

Is this prearranged or is it chance?
All that’s human lives in how we care
For strangers meeting us  and how we glance

Shall our human dignity advance?
Shall we look with kindness, shall we stare?
Trust the changing  mood, the deep  balance

Shall we  look again, how  do we dare
To see the stranger who is standing there?
A stranger meeting us who shares a glance
Trusts the understanding , trusts the stance

,” Prayer,Auden wrote, “is to pay attention or, shall we say, to ‘listen’ to someone or something other than oneself. Whenever a human so concentrates his/her attention—be it on a landscape, or a poem or a geometrical problem or an idol or the True God—that s/he completely forgets his/her own ego and desires in listening to what the other has to say to him, she/he is praying.” This may seem a denatured idea of prayer, but Auden took it seriously, and seems to have prayed in exactly this sense”

I sent this article to a few friends.One sent  back an elegant and beautiful  description of his view of the world and what it has within it though  being an atheist he may not pray in the [old fashioned] Christian sense.He may pray in the above sense but to him  it’s not prayer it is being alive and experiencing that

Another lapsed Catholic sent a short note saying  she wasn’t interested in God
She didn’t ask me what it meant to me or why it had seemed interesting enough to send to her.She may like me have suffered the utter boredom of a convent school

Are some of us living in a complete and enclosed world so we don’t care what interests  others? And we feel safe.After all, the boredom of the Rosary nearly drove some of us insane.That was no prayer that was rubbish to me.Yet some people have found it a help in times of trouble/Maybe just feeling the beads is nice?

I suppose in Auden’s piece he wants to be involved in humankind and the world of nature, the Universe of some aspect of that.And he also liked the invocation of the  spiritual by means of rites and rituals which has been part of our history from the start……

A bit like music or an art show….?

I have to say, you would never know the NHS was struggling if you visited the gynacology department or indeed other ones  in our rebuilt hospital.
To be with such helpful people is a true balm in these days when the world is  so troubled and politicians don’t seem very wise or  determined to help  the poor. the struggling or the sick nor  try bring a better world  for our children and those around the world.
We are very fortunate, we don’t alwaysys realise that

Melania Trump is asking Germany which half of Donald they want.Apparently he’s split.But not down the middle.

A Rabbi  says the Jesus prayer in Pittsburgh.What? The Pope is saying Kaddish in Tel Aviv… when  is the Second Coming?
After the First.

I’ve got pre-traumatic stress.I’m going to die.

Why don’t we have two hearts? One sweet and one  beat

The police want me to question them. Why?

I’m  a spy but for whom?

I can’t write any more.It’s the Apocalypse when I can spell  lapse.

Curtains down,

Turn back, live again, he  said to me
Do not struggle  with the darkness anymore
One more move might give  hate victory

We are each connected to that tree
The sunlit top, the roots hid in earth’s floor
Come back, start again, he asked of me

While we live, we’ll live with dignity
Not scrabbling for the gold in blood and gore
One more thought might give  hate victory

The kindness of the golden light was  clear
And left an image in my mind’s deep core
Come back with new life, he asked of me

Do not wonder  now why you are here
We’re here to live and living shall restore
What  our suffering self  has found so dear

I had never seen the light before
Only Christ the tyger with his roar
Come back,  live  through darkness, he  told me
Feel the blackness,feel love's victory

https://www.theatlantic.com/notes/2017/04/your-favorite-poems-on-hard-times/523191/

Extract

 

 

I could never take Charles Bukowski seriously. His books always seemed to be props for a certain type of guy I was endlessly attracted to. These guys were never into Wallace Stevens, say, or Lucille Clifton, just Bukowski. So Bukowski ended up being shorthand for pretentious guys who wanted to seem cool, and edgy, and arty.

Fast forward a few years: I’m done with those guys, living a life I hadn’t planned on—my choice, yes, but still difficult. I woke up this morning wondering how to keep going today with my responsibilities, with the to-dos, with all the work of a life that feels at this moment so constricted. I opened YouTube and “The Laughing Heart” appeared as a suggestion. I’m not sure why I clicked on it, but I did. It was the poem I needed—the poem that told me why and how to be today.

The opening lines:

your life is your life
don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.
be on the watch.
there are ways out.

https://www.brainpickings.org/2012/05/21/joan-didion-on-self-respect/

After sadness may come  joy  and peace
The knowledge that the loved one is now safe
The burden of the tears ,the  loss, the grief

Do any trees mourn for their lost green leaves
Which made a bed for me, almost my grave?
After sadness , cry for  joy   and peace

At first the death seems  like the work of thieves
And in wild madness  widows  weep and rave
The burden of the tears, the loss, the grief

Even in old age we find release
Arms around the shoulder, touch we crave
After sadness  may come joy   and peace

After so much woe, the face is creased
Courage  will come swiftly  like a wave
After shedding tears,in loss, in grief

How do  the sad with no  known ritual behave?
The loss of spirit, lonely ones betrays
After sadness   pray for joy  and peace
Such grave burdens, tears,  loss,  and deep grief

https://health.ucsd.edu/specialties/mindfulness/resources/Pages/poetry.aspx

Keeping Quiet

–by Pablo Neruda (May 28, 2018)

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

This was written after LC learned about the orchestra  at AuschwitHis father died when he was a   boy.The following year WW2 ended and he learned about the Holocaust.He suffered from severe depression all his life

As a poet, he says he cannot tell us why this song came out the way it did.But maybe it is affirming love and children,Unlike Christianity Judaism values human sexuality and the body.And they wish to replace the dead.

The still, small voice unheard, the hunt is on
The best are timid, while the worst run wild
God is in their sights and they have guns

With the early setting of the sun
Moths by burning torches are beguiled
The still, small voice a whisper,  haunted, stunned

Few have pity as large phones they scan
While  computers  eye the unborn child
God is  put to flight,  he has no guns

We must  be happy, evil is such fun.
See Jesus  with his mercy, love has failed
The still, small voice is lost, the hunt is on

As we wash our hands, the blood still clings
And from the sea  we hear  unearthly wails
God is in their sights ;watch, bullets, guns

Pittsburgh,Belsen, Krakow, Auschwitz hail!
The good  are tortured, while  the worst rule fools
The still, small voice unheard, the hunt is on
God is in their sights ; they  raise their guns…………..

https://www.history.com/topics

https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/the-science-behind-behavior/201604/the-little-known-downsides-mindfulness-practice

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/collections/144562/political-poems

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_World_Is_Too_Much_with_Us

“Wordsworth gives a fatalistic view of the world, past and future. The words “late and soon” in the opening verse describe how the past and future are included in his characterization of mankind. The author knows the potential of humanity’s “powers”, but fears it is clouded by the mentality of “getting and spending.” The “sordid boon” we have “given our hearts” is the materialistic progress of mankind. The detriment society has on the environment will proceed unchecked and relentless like the “winds that will be howling at all hours”. The speaker complains that “the world” is too overwhelming for us to appreciate it, and that people are so concerned about time and money that they use up all their energy. These people want to accumulate material goods, so they see nothing in Nature that they can “own”, and have sold their souls.^{[citation needed]}

Unlike /society, Wordsworth does not see nature as a commodity. The verse “Little we see in Nature that is ours”, shows that coexisting is the relationship envisioned. We should be able to appreciate beautiful events like the moon shining over the ocean and the blowing of strong winds, but it is almost as if humans are on a different wavelength from Nature. The “little we see in Nature that is ours” exemplifies the removed sentiment man has for nature, being obsessed with materialism and other worldly objects. Wordsworth’s Romanticism is best shown through his appreciation of nature in these lines and his woes for man and its opposition to nature. The relationship between Nature and man appears to be at the mercy of mankind because of the vulnerable way nature is described. The verse “This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon”, gives the vision of a feminine creature opening herself to the heavens above. The phrase “sleeping flowers” might also describe how nature is being overrun unknowingly and is helpless.^{[citation needed]”}

Hey Father,give me your hissing
Where do you think you are,on a stage?
I have a bad memory.
That’s not a sin.How long is it since your last Confession?
I’d say about the time Augustine confessed
Augustine who?
Don’t tell me you are so ignorant
Oh, you mean St Augustine.But he lived 1700 years ago
That is how I feel
I don’t care about how you feel
What would Jesus make of that?
I mean, this is for confessing sins.
Do sins often confess?
You are making me angry
Right,that is my first sin.I make people angry.
Well,maybe it’s not your fault.
I am not sure.I also lust after women
Youtoo!
Well,I don’t do anything to  them
That’s a relief
I am married but I do  like to look at women in the town centre
You mean  tarts parade down there?
I’ve no idea what their jobs are but they look so kind and caring.
Well, just keep your eyes averted.
I might walk into a lamp post
Any more sins?
Yes,I told my  wife I liked the missionary position
That’s unusual nowadays
Well as a child she was terrified of missionaries
Where did she live?
In Ulster.
I see what you scream. Did they allow missionaries?
It’s not illegal but it does cause fights and even killings
Well,apologise to her and ask her forgiveness,Then let her decide what position she prefers.Any more sins?
I lost my temper and threw a brick at the television
Why?
When I heard Trump say something vile
I’ll absolve  from your sins and for your penance stop watching the TV till Xmas
I can’t watch it now.It’s broken in half
The ways of God are strange
Do you really  believe God is in control?
On reflection, probably not.No-one is in control
Well a little self control comes in usefulMy worry is, if I stop watching the News because I get distressed, we could end up acting like the Germans in the 1930’s distracting themselves from looking at their Government’s actions  and on things like Kristallnacht they did not let themselves act to help the Jews
And Hitler was a Catholic…
So  how can I know what is happening without getting depressed?

The world is too much with us late and soon
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers

We must bear our depression as the price of being alive

The agent is the one who makes the choice
Who  are we  and how do we decide?
If we’re passive, we  will lose our voice

Consolation comes in many ways
The love of other  people is a guide
The agent is the one who has the choice

Consolation visits, cannot stay
Will not come if we are stiff with pride
If to power we’re passive, we  must  pray

A wife was once a slave, though well embraced
Her unique self and agency denied
The agent is the one who makes the choice

Now the unemployed dwell in disgrace
The monsters in the government deride
If by power  disabled ,find a voice

Christian armies  thought God on their side;
As if he cared what  they meant by their lies!
The agent  believes he’s in charge,has choice
We  feel   lost , where is the still,small voice?