1st TAKE/2nd LOOK: #22
We always did feel the same We just saw it from a different point Of view
One floats down the river of life (or is it up that river?) always wondering yet never convinced of the outcome. This lack of knowledge unknown is itself unfathomable. If you don’t know what you don’t know, you can’t even know that.
I think much of that lack of knowledge is just a deficit of insight. Or perspective. Clarifying further, it’s not a lack of perspective that divides us. We all have a point of view, each one completely unique. We don’t, or refuse, to see each others.
Elimination of differences seems to be a current preoccupation. All kept equal by hatchet, axe, or saw, after all. What divides us is the seemingly incomprehensible lack of acknowledgement.
Definition of acknowledgment
1a: the act of acknowledging something or someone acknowledgment of a mistake
b: recognition or favorable notice of an act or achievement received acknowledgment for his charitable works
2: a thing done or given in recognition of something received an author's acknowledgments of assistance
3 law : a declaration or avowal of one's act or of a fact to give it legal validity
I can illustrate this idea with two photographs. Thanks to a friend ~ Shout Out Kiley! Her four-story walk-up has a rooftop perspective I’ve never seen before. Look how close we are to the city. DTLA is like right there!
Let’s take a 2nd LOOK. So far away. Still a perspective, but totally different than the one we had above. The beauty of DTLA is her visual accessibility. Everyone can see this pretty city of angels, from everywhere.
Same rooftop. Just stood there and zoomed in. That’s all it takes to change my perspective. And yours. Is your perspective as easy to manipulate as a photo? What are you zooming in on? What other perspectives can you acknowledge?
Here’s the thing. We share this space we live in, you and I. It’s the exact same space, and we are right here right now intersecting with each other. I’m aware of the reality that you will perceive this experience differently than me. Yet, here we are. Sharing the same experience. We know that. We can acknowledge it.
I’m obsessing on Bob Dylan’s Tangled Up In Blue. I’ve included the lyrics and his video. And a couple of bonus cover tracks by some other great artists. I’m a fledgling writer with big hopes. When I read this poem of that song, it’s one perspective. When it’s listened to through headphones, after an adjustment of attitude, laying upside-down with my feet on my headboard, it’s quite another experience.
What amazing perspectives a songwriter provides with just one song. Time to make some Korean Tacos. Enjoy your perspective, but consider another’s. And then share,
Ric
But all the while I was alone
The past was close behind
Tangled Up In Blue
Early one morning the sun was shining I was laying in bed Wondering if she'd changed at all If her hair was still red Her folks they said our lives together Sure was gonna be rough They never did like mama's homemade dress Papa's bankbook wasn't big enough And I was standing on the side of the road Rain falling on my shoes Heading out for the East Coast Lord knows I've paid some dues Getting through Tangled up in blue. She was married when we first met Soon to be divorced I helped her out of a jam I guess But I used a little too much force We drove that car as far as we could Abandoned it out West Split up on a dark sad night Both agreeing it was best She turned around to look at me As I was walking away I heard her say over my shoulder "We'll meet again someday on the avenue" Tangled up in blue. I had a job in the great north woods Working as a cook for a spell But I never did like it all that much And one day the ax just fell So I drifted down to New Orleans so I lucky was to be employed Working for a while on a fishing boat Right outside of Delacroix But all the while I was alone The past was close behind I seen a lot of women But she never escaped my mind And I just grew Tangled up in blue. She was working in a topless place And I stopped in for a beer I just kept looking at the side of her face In the spotlight so clear And later on when the crowd thinned out I was just about to do the same She was standing there in back of my chair Said to me, "Don't I know your name?" I muttered something underneath my breath She studied the lines on my face I must admit I felt a little uneasy When she bent down to tie the laces Of my shoe Tangled up in blue. She lit a burner on the stove and offered me a pipe "I thought you'd never say hello," she said, "You look like the silent type." Then she opened up a book of poems And handed it to me Written by an Italian poet From the thirteenth century And every one of them words rang true And glowed like burning coal Pouring off of every page Like it was written in my soul From me to you Tangled up in blue I lived with them on Montague street In a basement down the stairs There was music in the cafés at night And revolution in the air Then he started into dealing with slaves And something inside of him died She had to sell everything she owned And froze up inside And when it finally the bottom fell out I became withdrawn The only thing I knew how to do Was to keep on keeping on Like a bird that flew Tangled up in blue. So now I'm going back again I got to get to her somehow All the people we used to know They're an illusion to me now Some are mathematicians Some are carpenter's wives Don't know how it all got started I don't know what they do with their lives But me I'm still on the road A-heading for another joint We always did feel the same We just saw it from a different point Of view Tangled up in blue.