Iman: Rejection & The Grand Delusion
Sultan Ahmet (The Blue Mosque) reflected in glass at Anya Sophia
REJECTION
The English word “faith” appears just two times in the King James translation of the Hebrew meaning of the Old Testament. That’s interesting, right? Two times – and that’s it. For reference – those two times are: Deuteronomy 32:20 & Habakkuk 2:4. This gives a brother pause, if you know what I mean. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that Faith is a key concept in Judaism – and by extension – Christianity. Seriously, that’s not really a stretch at all. So where’s the word? It occurs 245 times in the New Testament. What about the foundation – the basis for the New Testament? For the record, by the time we get to the NIV (New International Version) of the scriptures, we see “faith” a total of 15 times. Where is faith? With certainty we can state that a word which carries such great weight would have been used throughout the Old Testament. And it was.
Faith is Iman. It’s hidden in the words used and written in the original texts. I say hidden. No, wait – actually it’s in plain sight… if you read Hebrew. But our “modern translation”, sponsored by King James, has forgotten it. Basically, faith was removed from the Old Testament. The Hebrew word for “faith” is אֵמוּן
If we transliterate the original Hebrew word which was translated as “faith” in the King James, we get ‘emuwn. I need help to “sound out” the word, so I use a standardized pronunciation guide and find that it is pronounced as ā·mün’. All this originates in the semitic root אָמַן
This word is pronounced ä·man’. So what we’re talking about is Faith – capital F. And the Hebrew word for Faith is pronounced a-man (like the city in Jordan) the ä sounding like the a in “father”. So – here we go with another tremendous stretch… Iman and Aman are the same.
إيمان Iman is the transliteration of the Arabic word for Faith. Given that the Arabic and Hebrew are virtually the same, both literally and figuratively, clarification of the original meaning of the word is of great benefit. After all, the scriptures were not revealed – nor were they written – in anything remotely resembling English. It is critical to note that the word for Faith actually does occur 102 times in the Old Testament of The Holy Bible. But the pure (original) translation of the word a-man/iman as “fatih” has been rejected by our “modern” translators a total of 100 times. Mathematically, if we consider the fact that a word (Faith) has been rejected 100 times more than it has been employed in translation, it becomes clear in the most minimal sense that some kind of discrepancy exists. But the very fact that it is “Faith” which has been rejected is, perhaps, the most shocking feature of our examination.
The Holy Qur’an warns us in Surat Al-Baqarah:
“As to those who reject Faith, it is the same to them
whether thou warn them or do not warn them; they will not believe.” (2:6)
Even if you don’t believe the Qur’an is the literal word of the Lord of the Worlds, you should be wondering about the inclusion/exclusion of such a critical word. If this is not the case, perhaps a better question is this: When the red flag – the warning signal – is raised, why is it that some folks just look the other way and continue living as if they didn’t see… ? Has faith been rejected and replaced with a simpler idea – one that is easier to stomach?
It is easy to treat this problem as an elementary word study. But this could (and should) be used against us, as it could easily be deemed an over-oversimplification. Obviously. So, it may be best to back-track and examine an argument which has existed for centuries among linguists regarding translation: Languages change over time. Fact. But, as a language changes – so does the meaning which is given to the words. Understanding does not develop along linear trains of “thought”. It develops among individuals and communities – separate and apart from one another. Whole new meanings spring up. Whole modes of “thought” disappear. Expansion of original context may be clear. Or, on the other hand, we may clearly see a contraction of meaning – wherein a word has been “abandoned” for the sake of a better phrase or term. One might argue that the thinking in early Juadaism was geared more toward understanding of the concepts of belief, assurance, and trust. This appears to have been the collective idea of the men responsible for the King James version of the Bible. They did not choose to use the word but twice. Still feels strange, doesn’t it.
I’d like to inject something refreshing, with the hopes that it isn’t merely adding to whatever confusion surrounds the issue of Faith’s seeming exemption from the King James Old Testament. Here’s a bit from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass in which Alice (of Wonderland fame) and Humpty Dumpty discuss our dilemma:
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘glory,’ ” Alice said.
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously.
“Of course you don’t—till I tell you.
I meant ‘there’s a nice knock-down argument for you!’ ”
“But ‘glory’ doesn’t mean ‘a nice knock-down argument’,” Alice objected.
“When I use a word,” Humpty Dumpty said, in a rather a scornful tone,
“it means just what I choose it to mean—neither more nor less.”
“The question is,” said Alice, “whether you can make words
mean so many different things.”
“The question is,” said Humpty Dumpty,
“which is to be master – that’s all.”
THE GRAND DELUSION
What is being governed in America is the perception of the people. Legislation is the curtain pulled down between the elites and everyone else. Justice is for sale. We have been blinded to the fact that our consumption is destroying the planet, the atmosphere, and – thereby – …all of us. We are being lulled to sleep. Painted faces sing out from glowing screens everywhere we turn. Opinions, wherever they may be formed – from whomever they may arise, have somehow come to constitute knowledge. One does not have to have knowledge to have an opinion. Sadly, one’s “right” to the “freedom” of speech is of little value without genuine knowledge. So – we are inundated with opinions rather than knowledge. And all that is left is disputation. But opinions, like laws, mustn’t be taken for solutions.
Perception has been so warped that we believe the issues of greatest importance to be the opinions which we pay handsomely to have injected into our homes. Sensational images and faces flicker and fade across giant slick-screened monitors. It’s programming. We are being conditioned.
Mevlana Jalaluddin Muhammad Balkhi (Rumi) saw this issue plainly. “Disputational knowing wants customers. It has no soul.” Friends, Mevlana wasn’t confused. He was as accurate 750 years ago as he is today. The democratically licensed and controlled media has found plenty of customers. Their machine is bought and sold by banks, weapons manufacturers, criminals… (remember, it is a crime to break the “law” – even if you don’t get caught) These are the soul-less entities which decide what we see and when we see it. The “news” is what they say it is. And it comes to us by way of talk shows – pundits shouting at other pundits in an ad nauseam debate.
Americans enjoy the pretension of misery. We have everything any living soul could want and deep down know that all of it - down to the shoes on our feet – comes at the expense of someone else – somewhere far away. With this in mind, show me where a man puts his money – how he spends it – and I’ll know what he believes in. Give me an honest assessment of how you spend your “free” time – and I’ll understand your Faith. (now decide whether or not you can be honest about how many HOURS of television you watch each week)
We come back to faith. The Grand Delusion is what we have chosen over a relentless pursuit of Faith. But Faith is something which must absolutely be pursued. It is not a choice. We must pursue Faith with every ounce of our flesh, every draught of breath, every meditation. I must change the course set for me, well in advance, by the industrious “leaders” of my corporations and nation. What they want cannot be what we want. Again, Mevlana:
I plot to get what I want and end up in jail -
dig pits to trap others and I fall in.
I should be suspicious of what I want.
We suffer from the delusion that faith is something which can be chosen. And how great is our suffering. I cannot choose faith. It is a gift. The infant does not choose birth, or miscarriage. The infant does not even represent a choice made by her parents. She comes to be by the Will and Grace of the ONE – the Light in all beings.
I’d like to finish this rant with a look at the sheer simplicity of Faith. The original word, from it’s semitic root, is Iman. Iman literally – originally – meant to “prop” to sustain or support – or to carry in one’s arms. (Click here for a really good look at the root word) Somehow, we have become overwhelmingly confused in our culture. We hear that churches are failing – mosques are going empty – synagogues are silent. This should come as no surprise. After all we have rejected Faith! When we look at the term – CAREFULLY – we find that it was intended, revealed, and recorded to implant within our hearts and minds the image of each one of us being carried as a child. We must get back to that point if we are to accept faith for the gift that it truly is. As a child, I cannot choose to be carried. I may moan and cry – stretch out my tiny hands and beg to be held – but the decision is not mine.
The Lord of the worlds created us this way. We were not placed here in the playpen of life with much real choice. But – I have to say – when the choice comes as to whether or not to open a gift like faith, I think our neighbors would truly benefit greatly if we were to act like children again – tearing and ripping at the paper – fighting to get into the package. And what we are sure to find inside is miraculous. It is the answer. It is the Truth.
Attar & Coleridge: For the Birds
A few minutes before eight o’clock in the evening on Friday, March seventh, 1794, William Wilkins watched the western sky from Castle Hill in Norwich, England. His hope was, on the advice of a friend, to be able to spot the planet Mercury as the sun set below the horizon. The Reverend Samuel Vince kept correspondence written by Mr. Wilkins regarding these events in which Wilkins states that he was unable to see Mercury due to clouds on the horizon. What Wilkins’ letters mysteriously describe, however, is the odd appearance of a light, like a star within the dark part of the moon:
I was very much surprised; for, at the instant of discovery I believed a star was passing over the moon, which on the next moment’s consideration I knew to be impossible. I remembered having seen, at some periods of the moon, detached lights from the serrated edge of light, through a telescope; but this spot was considerably too distant from the enlightened part of the moon; besides, this was seen with the naked eye. I was, as it were, rivetted to the spot where I stood, during the time it continued, and took every method I could imagine to convince myself that it was not an error of sight; and two persons, strangers, passed me at the same time, whom I requested to look, and they (maybe, a little more ignorant than myself) said it was star. I am confident I saw it five minutes at least; but as the time is only conjectural, it might not, possibly, be so long. (Wilkins, Letter I).
What is most revealing about Mr. Wilkins’ account is not the nature of it’s contents, but rather the fact that it describes in detail an event which Coleridge has written into his Ancient Mariner:
With never a whisper in the Sea
Oft darts the Spectre-ship;
While clombe above the Eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright Star
Almost atween the tips. (1798, 34).
When James Dykes Campbell edited The Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge in 1896, he added to Coleridge’s previously unpublished note in Lyrical Ballads: “But no sailor ever saw a star within the nether tip of a horned moon.” (Wallen, 34). In his 1993 experimental edition of Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner, Martin Wallen includes a note containing a discussion of the aforementioned letter by William Wilkins to the Reverend Samuel Vince. Editors and publishers have been attracted to the significance of this phase of Coleridge’s poem – and his notes about it.
In Coleridge’s second revision of the Mariner, published in 1800, the following changes appear between the original two stanzas of the published 1798 text:
With never a whisper on the main
Oft shot the spectre-ship;
And stifled words and groans of pain
Mix’d on each murmuring lip
And we look’d round, & we look’d up,
And fear at our hearts, as at a cup,
The Life-blood seem’d to sip
The Sky was dull, and dark the night,
The Helmsman’s face by his lamp gleam’d bright
From the sails the dews did drip
Till clombe above the Eastern Bar
The horned Moon, with one bright Star
Within its nether Tip. (1800, 35).
Coleridge leaves the reader with an indelible image of the crescent moon and a star between its tips. Coleridge’s first published rendering of the poem features a star “almost” between the tips. But in subsequent publications the star is “within” the nether tip. Coleridge has focused a great deal of attention on this image. Wallen’s arrangement of the text in his 1993 experimental edition further clarifies this. This segment marks a turning point. We see the poem take a dramatic turn here as the Spectre-ship is introduced. By the close of the next stanza – some four lines away, all but one of the mariners are dead.
The crescent moon with a star between its tips has been used as a mystical symbol for millennia. This symbol has adorned flags in the Persian Arab-Muslim world for over a thousand years as the symbol of Islam. Indeed, I shall argue that in addition to Islamic symbolism, Coleridge employs the techniques of Sufi (Islamic) mystical poets in the rendering of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by focusing on the imagery and importance of birds, specifically the Albatross, and by manipulating the common theme of the pilgrimage to theorize that Love is the highest and most blessed state human beings may seek.
Farid ud-Din Attar, an early Sufi poet, wrote The Parliament of the Birds near the end of his life in the late twelfth century. This work is, by all accounts, a masterwork in early Persian mystical poetry. In the poem, a Hoopoe leads a group of her fellows on a quest to find their king, who is called Simurgh. The birds appear excited to be about the business of finding their true leader, but when they realize to what extent they will be required to participate, each of the birds makes a short speech, a plea to remain behind. The Nightingale speaks first, “The journey to the Simurgh is beyond my strength; the love of the rose is enough for the Nightingale [for me]” (27). The Nightingale is the first of many birds who present their cases to the Hoopoe. The Hoopoe tells each of the birds stories which settle their minds by clearly distinguishing between what it means to prefer what one already has over the possibility of what one might have – or hope to have. The Hoopoe goes on to explain to her companions that the journey will take them across seven valleys. She names all the valleys – the seventh being that of death: “Last of all comes the valley of Deprivation and Death, which it is almost impossible to describe” (138). The poem ends when the birds realize that after traveling together they themselves form the leadership – or Simurgh. The collective consciousness, or body as a whole, are the King – are God. Coleridge’s Mariner tells us that the Mariner was cast adrift in the still seas for seven days. The parallels between Attar’s and Coleridge’s work are quite clear. In each, birds are used to represent human beings. Attar utilizes the Hoopoe, a sacred bird in the East, to represent a spiritual leader, or teacher. Coleridge uses an Albatross to represent the sacrifice of Christ on a Roman cross. Attar depicts a spiritual journey as seen through the conversation of birds. Coleridge depicts a spiritual journey as seen through the eyes of a man who has killed a bird and been made to wear it around his neck:
Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young;
Instead of the Cross the Albatross
About my neck was hung. (1798, 24).
The idea that the Albatross is substituted for a cross, which traditionally hangs about the necks of Christians as a symbol of the redeeming death of Christ, indicates a change in direction in Coleridge’s poem. He has obviously asked his audience to look beyond traditional Christian imagery to discover the hidden meaning in the death of a simple sea-bird. It is here that Coleridge raises the question in the minds of his audience: Why did the mariner kill the albatross? This is intentional. Coleridge uses a bird which is not typically seen as significant in any way – and he has made a direct comparison between it, and Christ himself. Coleridge asks his audience to consider the moral status of all non-human creatures, and this implies the significance of the creatures themselves. Attar’s poem teaches that it is this group, or congregation, which constitutes the leadership of a religious body. In short, both Attar and Coleridge have placed human beings and animals on a level playing field with none bearing more significance than any of the others. Both poets have used seemingly insignificant birds to make ambitious comparisons to similar qualities inherent in human beings. Coleridge uses the number seven to demarcate the number of days the Mariner drifts alone on the sea. This symbolic number foretells of an even longer journey, a pilgrimage of sorts, in which the Mariner will daily wander the Earth telling his tale. Likewise, Farid ud-Din Attar’s seven valleys represent the daily quest for the path of righteousness. Coleridge uses the word “Lavrock” (1798, 55) as yet another comparison of birds and spirit beings. Lavrock is, in the subsequent revisions of Coleridge’s text, changed to “sky-lark” (1800 / 1817, 55) and compared directly to the song of angels which the Mariner hears during his trance. But the word “Lavrock” itself is a common term for any of a group of birds. This symbolic juxtaposition of birds, angels, the number seven, and the pilgrimage finds its origins in Attar’s Sufic poetry.
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner focuses on the importance of Love of all creatures. In the poem however, none of the mariners seem to realize they have “loved” the Albatross when it first appears – and yet this unconscious act brings about a common good:
At length did cross an Albatross,
Through the fog it came;
And an it were a Christian Soul,
We hailed it in God’s name
The Marineres gave it biscuit-worms,
And round and round it flew:
The Ice did split with a Thunder-fit;
The Helmsman steer’d us thro’ (1798, 14).
The mariners hail the Albatross in God’s name. They recognize it as a living being, and subconsciously recognize its significance. What none of them seem to gather, however, is that this acceptance is the very act that splits the ice, giving clear passage to the ship, allowing the Helmsman to steer through to clear waters. Coleridge allegorizes the recognition of the Albatross as Love. The mariners clearly do not understand, however, that their actions, whether conscious or unconscious, are the engines of an even more significant outcome. When the Ancient Mariner kills the albatross, his fellow mariners are not aware of any wrong-doing at all. But eventually come to be troubled, then gladdened by the fact that the Mariner has killed the Albatross. Their wavering between ideas of right and wrong eventually brings them to hang the Albatross about the Ancient Mariner’s neck when the seas calm and the sails drop down. It is here that Coleridge stalls the action of the poem to include yet another remarkable image – an image of an image, in fact:
All in a hot and copper sky
The bloody sun at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, ne breath, ne motion,
As idle as a painted Ship
Upon a painted Ocean (1798, 21).
Coleridge has painted a picture of a picture – with words, to introduce one of the most striking sequences of events in all of English Literature. The hanging of the albatross about the Mariner’s neck is well known. It has come to signify the carrying of a burden. What then is the burden represented by Coleridge in this imagery? I argue here that the burden is Love. The Ancient Mariner, after realizing his mistake – and fearing for his life tries to pray but cannot. When he, at last, is able to pray – it seems to be an accident – but nevertheless, the weight about his neck, the albatross, drops into the sea. Coleridge illustrates the Mariner set adrift on the sea with “a million million slimy things” (1798, 39, 240). We are given clear indication that the issue of Love is increasingly important to Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s character, the Mariner. In a mystical sense, the Mariner is aware that his predicament is somehow a result of his misunderstanding of Love. Coleridge has illustrated that when the Albatross appears and is well treated, the ice splits, allowing the Helmsman to steer the ship through. This is a fine parable by any standard. The Albatross as a representative of Love, of God – appears to test the mariners. The ship, as a representative of the body and soul in combination begins to feel the effects of the Mariner’s deeds. The Helmsman, as a representative of the guiding Spirit of God-in-man, or the Holy Spirit is able to operate when Love is realized. The appearance, and the events surrounding the Albatross may be the single most significant, if not prophetic event(s) in all of English Literature. Thus, Love – in its hidden or unconscious forms, is of primary significance in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.
Before his death in 1273, Jalaluddin Rumi, a student of Attar, composed his Mathnawi. This text is a study in focus and meditation on Love – and union with The Beloved. His Mathnawi is filled with bird imagery and well developed metaphors containing allegories of ships, seas and birds. His poems were not titled, but Coleman Barks has rendered translations of these works in such a way as to extract key phrases from the verses and head the poems with those lines. ”Say I am You” (Rumi, 275) begins with the declaration, “I am dust particles in sunlight – I am the round sun…” Rumi’s dealings with identity in his poetry work directly with Coleridge’s ideas of identity. We are connected, both Rumi and Coleridge argue, to all life – indeed, to all things. We are intricate details in the workings of nature. In “Say I am You”, Rumi goes on to compare himself to a ship – “Mast, rudder, helmsman and keel, I am also the coral reef they founder on… Rose, and the nightingale lost in the fragrance.” (Rumi 275). Rumi is able to use dust particles, ships, oceans and birds to convey a sense of identity. He points his words at all of humanity. His use of the imagery associated with birds occurs frequently in the form of parrots (trained parrots represent the ego – the voice that wants to be heard), doves (silence), the hoopoe (wisdom), and the nightingale (longing, love). Rumi uses impossible scenarios to hide versions of the truth that are slow in their gradual unfolding. Birds speak freely with men. Ships are symbols for the insignificance of the body – and the power of the sea, the sea representing the Divine presence. The sun is compared to dust particles. Rumi uses frames in his imagery that bounce back and forth between miniature and immense states of matter. Coleridge is able to operate in this same vein, and thereby challenge the perception of his audience to a contest of perception. Coleridge’s mystical treatment of ships, birds, and the sea bears a striking resemblance to Rumi’s methods.
As I have considered here, mysticism is not an otherworldly and obscure connection to ephemeral events in the ether of the consciousness of mankind. Indeed, I seek not to define Mysticism or Romanticism, but to illustrate Romantic Mysticism via comparison of Coleridge’s work with those who wrote in similar strata before his time. To this end, William Hazlitt’s essay, “My First Acquaintance with Poets”, is convincing in characterizing Coleridge as a man consumed by mystic ideas and pursuits. Hazlitt describes Coleridge as a replacement, called to the pulpit of a Unitarian church to fill-in for the author’s father. Hazlitt speaks of the sermon Coleridge delivered in the Winter of 1798: “And for myself, I could not have been more delighted if I had heard the music of the spheres. Poetry and philosophy had met together. Truth and Genius had embraced, under the eye and with the sanction of Religion.” (Hazlitt, 2). This is, perhaps, an apt description of Persian mystical poetry. Poetry and philosophy meeting together – under the eye and sanction of Religion. Hazlitt tells a tale of Coleridge’s days living near him and the conversations they shared. He leaves an interesting comment about a visit Wordsworth made, and says that “I got into a metaphysical argument with Wordsworth, while Coleridge was explaining the different notes of the nightingale to his sister.” (Hazlitt, 10). Hazlitt continues by portraying Coleridge as someone almost wild who wants to experience things as they are: “A thunderstorm came on while we were at the inn, and Coleridge was running out bare-headed to enjoy the commotion of the elements…” (Hazlitt, 10). It is clear that Coleridge made an indelible impression on Hazlitt, and that his impression is founded in Coleridge’s seeking after a mystical communion with his surroundings and his efforts to teach others of these connections. “He held the good town of Shewsbury in delightful suspense for three weeks that he remained there, “fluttering the proud Salopians, like an eagle in a dove-cote”; and the Welsh mountains that skirt the horizon with their tempestuous confusion, agree to have heard no such mystic sound since…” (1).
Idries Shah, as one of Afghanistan’s most prolific writers, offers a valuable insight into any potential connection between his native mysticism and that of Coleridge. He has published volumes upon volumes of works about the Persian mystical poets in Farsi, Spanish, and English. His work with the Sufi poetry of Attar and Rumi is well known in America today. What is most important about Shah’s book, The Sufis, is that he is able to illuminate these poets’ work with translations and commentaries which make quite clear the Sufi techniques with imagery in poetry and their influence on English thought. He has this to say in a chapter devoted to Attar:
(Quoting Attar) ‘To abandon something because others have misused it may be the height of folly; the Sufic truth cannot be encompassed in rules and regulations, in formulas and rituals – but yet it is partially present in all these things.’ These words are attributed to Fariduddin the Chemist, a great illuminate and author, and an organizer of the Sufis. He died over a century before the birth of Chaucer, in whose works references to Attar’s Sufism are to be found (Shah, 104).
In Shah’s discussion of the works of Jalaluddin Rumi, he states, “Chaucer’s use of the phrase, ‘As lions may take warning when a pup is punished…” is merely a close adaptation of Udhrib el-kalba wa yata’ addaba el-fahdu (‘Beat the dog and the lion will behave’) (Shah, 116). Idries Shah speaks a good deal about the play between words and images in Rumi’s work. Shah goes on to add this comment to his analysis of Rumi’s work:
Like many Sufis cast in a theological atmosphere, Rumi first addresses his followers on the subject of religion. He stresses that the form in which ordinary, emotional religion is understood by organized bodies is incorrect. The Veil of Light, which is the barrier brought about by self righteousness, is more dangerous than the Veil of Darkness, produced in the mind by vice. Understanding can come only through love, not by training by means of organizational methods.” (Shah, 118).
Like Rumi, Coleridge clearly attempted to speak to his readers on the subject of religion.
His ideas come through his Ancient Mariner “loud and clear” when we look closely at the fact that the Mariner is detaining one man – on his way to a wedding. Clearly a reference to the parables of Christ, Coleridge speaks, from the very beginning of the poem – until the end of the poem – as the Mariner asks for forgiveness:
‘O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy Man!’
The Hermit cross’d his brow -
‘Say quick’ quoth he, ‘I bid thee say
‘What manner of man art thou?’ (1798, 86).
The Mariner has come to the end – the end of the beginning of his pilgrimage and knows that he must now give out his confession. As is offered in Coleridge’s poem, the Mariner still gives this confession – to this day.
What Samuel Taylor Coleridge has done with The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is to develop an Eighteenth-Century Romantic idea of Mysticism through his poetry. Throughout the text of this poem, we find examples – parallels of Sufic methods of teaching. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner acts as an extended metaphor for the act of living and teaching which has been utilized by Sufis seeking to impact mankind directly by appealing to both conscious and unconscious thought processes. Coleridge succeeded in showing that Western Literature is quite capable of operating on higher planes by sharing the ideas and techniques of the Sufi mystics. By focusing on the imagery and importance of birds, specifically the Albatross, and by manipulating the common theme of the pilgrimage to theorize that Love is the highest and most blessed state human beings may seek, Coleridge has impacted Western thought significantly. His Ancient Mariner exists in the halls and minds of the West, as proof – not that his work is influenced by the Sufis, but that mankind is aware of things beyond objective reality which shape and mold our lives.
Works Cited
Attar, Farid ud-Din. The Conference of the Birds. Trans. S.C. Nott. Ed. Delian Bower.
London: Continuum, 2000.
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner. Ed. Martin Wallen. New
York: Station Hill Literary Editions, 1993.
Hazlitt, William. “My First Acquaintance With Poets.” The Essays of Blupete. Ed. Peter
Landry. 2001. 9 April 2003 <http://www.blupete.com/Literature/Essays/Hazlitt
First Acquaintance Poets.htm>.
Rumi, Jalaluddin. Mathnawi. The Essential Rumi. Trans. Coleman Barks. Ed. John
Moyne. A.J. Arberry. Reynold Nicholson. New Jersey: Castle Books, 1997.
Shah, Idries. The Sufis. London: Octagon Press, 1977.
Wallen, Martin. Coleridge’s Ancient Mariner: An Experimental Edition of Texts and
Revisions 1798-1828. New York: Station Hill Literary Editions, 1993.
Wilkins, William. Letter to Reverend Samuel Vince. 17 April 1794. Philosophical
Transactions Of The Royal Society Of London, Vol.84. <http://www.xdream.
freeserve.co.uk/UFOBase/WilkinsStretton.htm>.
© 2008 Samuel Bryan Heard
praxymetry
What is praxymetry?
Etymology: (a): praxis- Medieval Latin, from Greek, doing, action, from prassein to do, practice; and (b): symmetry- Latin symmetria, from Greek, from symmetros symmetrical, from syn + metron – measure. balanced proportions; also : beauty of form arising from balanced proportions – also the property of remaining invariant under certain changes (as of orientation in space, of parity, or of the direction of time flow) used of physical phenomena and their descriptive equations.
Definition:
1) a practice of measured balance between advocacy and action in a geopolitical system.
2) a shift in perspective which radically alters traditional thought.
3) a means by which beneficial humanitarian policy is implemented.
Actions speak louder than words
Don’t just talk. Do. Don’t discuss serving the minority. Radically shift your perspective by including yourself in the minority. Don’t just lend your words. Lend your life.
Bigger cities are not necessarily better cities. And without a doubt, more government has never been – and will never be – better government. Progress, in this light, has nothing to do with change over time – or even growth in size. Genuine progress is that change which improves the quality of life of all peoples. Every tribe, tongue, people and nation.
Families are starving because they can no longer afford food. We cannot feed them money. Actions truly speak louder than words. It is time to bring radical understanding to bear on the growing problems of food shortage and the capitalist system. The “law” of supply and demand moves us closer and closer to a real system of passive genocide. How much is too much?
Become the Minority.
Mystic Christianity
Mystic Christianity:
Modern Translations of the Gospel of Luke
Early Zen teaching stories relate a number of anecdotes about a Chinese sage named Joshu. In one parable, (Reps, 175) recorded five hundred years before Christ, a monk accosts Joshu during a meal. The monk requests personal instruction – by which he hopes to achieve enlightenment. Joshu patiently asks the monk, “Have you eaten?” The eager student replies, “Yes, master, I have just finished the meal.” Joshu responds directly to the monk, “Then you had better go and wash your bowl.”
Tradition holds that the young man was instantly enlightened upon realizing the depth of Joshu’s instruction. These kinds of teaching stories have been used for millennia. They serve distinct purposes, in that the stories themselves convey truths which have inevitably remained clouded by conservative adherence to dogma and ceremony. The teachings of Christ, as found in the New Testament scriptures of the Christian bible, are quite similar to their spiritual counterparts in both the middle and far east. Christ’s teachings were intended to be gateways to perception. They are filled with intricate systems of interwoven thematic elements. What we shall uncover here will provide direct evidence of the suitability of Christ’s teaching, as recorded in Luke’s gospel, to withstand both tests of time – and translation. Specifically, Luke 17:21 reveals subtle phrasing which was crafted to ensure that the text passed on to future generations an apt representation of the archetype of Christian mystical thought. These intentions are clear today. Modern English translations of Luke 17:21 capably reveal the mystical nature of Christ’s teachings. One translation, drawn here from The New Testament in Modern English, states the lexis of Christ’s teachings regarding his followers’ identification with ultimate truth: “The kingdom of God never comes by watching for it. Men cannot say, ‘Look, here it is,’ or ‘There it is,’ for the kingdom of God is inside you” (Phillips, 163).
Considering the tone of Luke 17:21 in Phillips’ translation, one word readily jumps from the text. This word, “inside,” is a translation of the Greek preposition “entos.” Entos is critical. It designates the whereabouts of the kingdom of God; “regnum Dei intra vos est” (Blue Letter Bible, Jerome’s Latin Vulgate, Luke 17:21). According to Phillips, Christ teaches that the kingdom of God is not a worldly kingdom. Paradise, if we should seek to find it, can be found in this life. It has been placed within each of us. Lexical information supports this. Entos is an “adverb of place” – “only as an improper prep. w. gen. inside, within, within the limits of…” (Bauer, 268). Other lexical references reveal that use of the Greek word entos in the New Testament is tremendously rare. (The Analytical Greek Lexicon, 137). Here, we find the first and only other occasion of the term’s occurrence in the New Testament scriptures. Matthew 23:26 reads: “Blind Pharisees! First wash the inside of the cup, and then the outside will become clean, too” (Blue Letter Bible, New Living Testament, Matthew 23:26). This is no coincidence.
It should be duly noted that some choose to interpret Luke 17:21 using the English phrase “in your midst,” or “in the midst of you” for the Greek entos: “nor shall they say, Lo here, or, Lo there; for behold, the kingdom of God is in the midst of you” (Blue Letter Bible, Darby, Luke 17:21). This presents an interesting deviation from our previous course. Additionally, this translation for entos illustrates an important facet of the English language. As is readily evident, the phrase “in the midst of you” can be seen from several viewpoints, distinct from those we examined above. We can infer that many have taken this phrase, “in your midst,” to refer to something that happened outside those Christ was addressing – something among them, perhaps. As Davidson points out, Christ may be “referring to Himself and the life He was living among them” (856). This interpretation seems a far cry from any mystic elucidation. Here, some students of the text of Luke 17:21 believe we are introduced to an elite and limiting Christ – who believes he contains what others do not, and cannot contain. By this interpretation, the kingdom of heaven is not found within anyone but Christ. Many early Christians must have favored this interpretation. Mystics disagree.
The King James Bible, perhaps the single most important document in the shaping of the English tongue, communicates the vitality of early Christian mysticism brilliantly. Luke 17:21 is therein translated: “Neither shall they say, Lo here! or, lo there! for, behold, the kingdom of God is within you” (Blue Letter Bible, King James Version, Luke 17:21). This translation provides a solid, direct link between Luke’s gospel and its apparent parent text in Matthew 23:26, which we examined above. Christ clearly equates consciousness with a vessel or cup. He discounts appearances, or ‘signs’ of a kingdom yet to come, and refers in both instances to that which occurs within. The use of the present tense also suggests that the condition already exists – that it must be comprehended. Again, we may study the not so subtle variance in translations of Luke 17:21 and draw our own conclusions:
The positive half of the saying asserts the utter futility of all such popular interest in signs. Our interpretation of it will depend on the meaning we give to the preposition entos. The KJV and the RSV represent two possibilities. (1) Within (KJV; RSV mg.) corresponds to the normal Greek use of the word, and this translation makes Jesus declare that God’s rule is a new spiritual principle already operative in the lives of men. [...] (2) In the midst of (RSV) (or “Among”) is a translation that removes the saying from its exceptional category among the kingdom references in the gospels. (Buttrick, 300).
Obviously, interpretations of Luke 17:21 do not fall far from the tree of one’s personal philosophical and theological preferences. This seems an overtone of Christ’s, or, at the very least, the gospel writer’s intent. We should note that, due to some more restrictive or exclusive interpretations of Luke’s gospel, many scholars and theologians have taken to highlighting the absolute – and often partisan authority of Christ. Others have opted to broaden a more subtle, personal authority in the interpretation of Luke’s gospel. These seemingly more forward-thinking scholars entrust the infinite possibilities of Deliverance to the hearts and minds of those who devote themselves to the teachings of Christ. In essence, they leave interpretation to the students of the text. This certainly appears to be more in line with the gospel writer’s intent for entos.
While a close reading of the works of some analysts reveals clear lines of mystical thought, it remains that mysticism in any form and any religion has had its share of opponents. Many speak ardently against the alleged intrinsic capacity of humanity for knowledge of “self” through a direct knowledge, or even subjective experience of “the kingdom of God.” And yet others have taken a more philosophical approach to Luke 17:21, perhaps in an attempt to avoid its theological pitfalls. This is evident in Wycliffe’s commentary: “…entos may mean among. A kingdom is not just a territory, nor a system of governmental machinery. Its basic existence is in the unity and loyalty of a people. Jesus asserted that the kingdom of God was already present and needed only to be recognized. He had brought the kingdom with him and was living among them” (Pfeiffer, 1056). Additionally, when modern analysts look into early Christian debates concerning the translation of Luke 17:21, they find the same questions – the “within” versus “in your midst” dialogue – well preserved. This debate began to propagate quite early in the history of Christianity. “Tertullian reads it as “within your grasp” (or “possession”),” Michaels says, “it can be shared in by you, if you want it…” He then quotes a colleague, Fitzmeyer, who paraphrases Tertullian; “to take it lies among your choices and within your power” (478). “In short,” Michaels says, “Tertullian affords a basis in the very early history of the interpretation of Luke 17:21 for suggesting that “within you” meant “in your hands” or “within your power,” in the sense that the Pharisees, as “lovers of money” [Luke 16:14], had the opportunity to gain the kingdom by opening their hands in reckless generosity to the poor” (480).
If everything we have examined above simply begs the question, “What does all this have to do with mysticism?,” perhaps a succinct examination of mysticism’s definition is in order. Webster defines mysticism, in part, as “the belief that direct knowledge of God, spiritual truth, or ultimate reality can be obtained through subjective experience (as intuition or insight)” (Merriam-Webster OnLine). In Webster, we may also note that a more concrete approach to the term reveals “vague speculation: a belief without sound basis – a theory postulating the possibility of direct and intuitive acquisition of ineffable knowledge or power.”
What Luke 17:21 pushes toward, if anything, is direct personal knowledge through individual subjective experience. No matter how one goes about translating the text, it remains apparent that the gospel writer fashioned it as something of a red flag. In other words, a serious student of Christ’s teachings cannot examine the many interpretations of the verse and remain unconscious of its numerous and highly potent implications. It is with this awareness, that we conclude where we began. Joshu demands of a monk, as Christ of the Pharisees in Matthew 23:26, “you had better go and wash your bowl.” Like Joshu, Jesus isn’t really talking about dirty dishes. There is something else – beyond the words. Christ directs traffic down the inward path. It should be clear that this is no dime-store theology. This technique is prevalent in religions pre-dating Christianity by thousands of years. Parables and metaphors are not new devices. We have looked at several translations of Luke 17:21. It is clearly a verse which, after a close first reading, necessitates a sincere personal inspection. In the verse’s original Greek, as we have seen, the word “entos” is a designator of place – of space at the core. Indeed, modern English translations of Luke 17:21 capably reveal the mystical nature of Christ’s teachings.
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Works Cited
Bauer, Walter. Griechisch-Deutsches Wörterbuch zu den Schriften
des Neuen Testaments und der übrigen urchristlichen Literatur.
4th Rev. ed. Trans. William F. Arndt and F. Wilbur Gingrich.
Cambridge: University Press; Chicago:
University of Chicago Press, 1957.
Blue Letter Bible. 1996-2002. Nov. 2005.
<http://www.blueletterbible.org>.
Buttrick, George Arthur, et al., eds. The Interpreter’s Bible.
Vol. 8. New York: Abingdon Press, 1952.
Davidson, F., et al., eds. The New Bible Commentary. 2nd ed.
Grand Rapids: WM. B. Eerdmans, 1954.
Merriam – Webster Online. Nov. 2005. <http://webster.com/dictionary/mysticism>.
Michaels, Ramsey J. “Almsgiving and the Kingdom Within:
Tertullian on Luke 17:21.”
The Catholic Bible Quarterly. 60.3 (1998): 475-83.
Pfeiffer, Charles F. and Everett F. Harrison, eds.
The Wycliffe Bible Commentary. Chicago: Moody, 1962.
Phillips, J.B., trans. The New Testament in Modern English.
New York: MacMillan, 1962.
Reps, Paul and Nyogen Senzaki, eds. Zen Flesh, Zen Bones:
A Collection of Zen and Pre-Zen Writings.
Boston and London: Shambala, 1994.
The Analytical Greek Lexicon.
London: Samuel Bagster and Sons, Limited; New York
and Evanston: Harper and Row. (no date given).
© 2005 Sam Heard
Irregardless: How some words that aren’t words are
English is Changing, Irregardless?
Idries Shah retells an ancient Sufi teaching story in which a dervish passes a dry well and hears a call for help. He finds that a man, a grammarian, has fallen into the well and is crying out for help: “[...] ‘Hold, friend, and I’ll fetch a ladder and rope,’ said the dervish. ‘One moment, please!’ said the grammarian, ‘Your grammar and diction are faulty; be good enough to amend them.’ ‘If that is so much more important than the essentials,’ shouted the dervish, ‘you had best stay where you are until I have learned to speak properly” (193). What we find in the story is a complete contradiction of sense. In other words, if our grammarian is genuinely in trouble, he should take the first hand offered him, which he seems reluctant to do. Likewise, if the dervish is genuinely a man of compassion, as it might seem, why does he appear to ignore a call for help based on some illegible offense? We may take this opportunity to investigate the fascinating process of change in a language – if we are careful. We must be careful not to fall into the well ourselves, refusing new ideas when they are offered, insisting that we know the right. And we must be careful not to turn our backs on those, by the same token, who are in need of some assistance—whether we find the prospect appealing or not. So – who needs help – the grammarian, the dervish, or both?
In order to illuminate a gradual sequence of events by which changes in a language occur, we should constructively examine specific instances of infringement upon the laws which govern that language. For the purposes of this work, we shall look at the modern English word, “Irregardless.” Of course, we should immediately note that, like many other words in wide use today, this “word” is frequently presumed no word at all. And yet “irregardless” remains in widespread regional and dialectical use. If we find that the driving force in changing a language, our English language, exists alongside increased social acceptance of the infringements upon grammar, what must this signify? Truly, language – any language – must be on the verge of both constant growth and annihilation. What word, or idiom, then, is not in a state of perpetual change? Irregardless must either be on the brink of unreserved disqualification from the lexicon – or wholehearted acceptance. Indeed, a close examination of the use of “irregardless” as an English word reveals the very process by which a language evolves. As we shall see, our odd little word does in fact exist, irregardless.
One among many signs that a law is in fundamental dispute is the frequency with which it is invoked in scholarly critiques of the society in which it operates. Clearly, any law, at such time as it comes under strident questioning, is given both a reinvigoration in function—as well as the fuel with which to burn itself out. As we shall see, it is the infringement of our language upon its own laws which engenders “acceptable” changes in our grammar. Crystal illustrates this point by shedding light on the fact that English critique seems a constant cycle:
A glance at newspapers or government reports after the turn of the century shows that the same concerns about language were being expressed then as now: standards of English had evidently reached an unprecedented low point in schools, and adult usage was deteriorating so rapidly that there was little hope for the future of the language (90).
Additionally, Wallace points us to “the wars that have raged in both lexicography and education ever since the notoriously liberal Webster’s Third New International Dictionary came out in 1961 and included such terms as heighth and irregardless…” (43). By these instances, be they tongue in cheek or not, we can see that our language certainly is not immune to the common grammatical myths which arise from an unwillingness to change—or to accept change. “It’s disheartening to see irregardless show up in print. ‘This isn’t a word—its a crime in progress,’ writes O’Conner. ‘The word you want is regardless. Irrespective of what you hear and read, there is no such word as irregardless” (Stingl 10). With the aforementioned in mind, let us examine a few of the leading sources of information where the use of our language is concerned:
Irregardless originated in dialectal American speech in the early 20th century. Its fairly widespread use in speech called it to the attention of usage commentators as early as 1927. The most frequently repeated remark about it is that “there is no such word.” There is such a word, however. It is still used primarily in speech, although it can be found from time to time in edited prose. Its reputation has not risen over the years, and it is still a long way from general acceptance. Use regardless instead (Merriam – Webster Online).
Irregardless, as is quite clear, is a word, and is in wide use. But, there are better ways to state one’s case, a better use of acceptable style, says one college dictionary: “IRREGARDLESS is considered nonstandard because it is redundant: once the negative idea is expressed by the –less ending, it is poor style to add the negative ir- prefix to express the same idea. Nonetheless, it is occasionally used by some speakers, perhaps in an attempt to achieve greater emphasis” (Stein, 707). Clearly, we are drawn to emphatics. We concern ourselves, in grammar, with right and wrong, with good and bad. Obviously, many English speakers refer to dictionaries simply because they expect to find something concrete—some written law—which will direct them toward their best emphasis in order that they make good sense, a strong point.
English speakers delight in their dictionaries. There is a burgeoning dictionary market, in fact. Kister knows that Americans are eager to find proof that they are right, or, at least proof they are about to make a “good” purchase. He illustrates our propensity for seeking encouragement: “…many people long for some authority to tell them what is correct. They want to see in print that, say, irregardless, a commonly encountered variant of regardless, is considered wrong or ignorant” (24). And he is right. If we are to win arguments—to appear as knowledgeable as we daily assure ourselves we are—we must consult with experts. We must find ways to be right. There are liberal dictionaries, and conservative ones. And we can find, within our chosen lines of thinking and speaking, proof that our way is best. We do this by trusting in our chosen media. Certainly, our favorite public speakers, radio talk-show hosts and pundits will always sponsor the proper usage. But what happens when we hear something we disagree with?
Ted Reuter, writer for The Christian Science Monitor, hints at the fact that he enjoys listening to National Public Radio. He states that the program, “This American Life,” which is hosted by Ira Glass, has put him off a bit. Glass’ grammar, it would seem, is simply unacceptable. And, of course, Reuter feels the need to call him on it: “He [Glass] responded that while he knows the rules of grammar,” Reuter says, “‘and how they apply to this particular case,’ the grammatically correct way ‘doesn’t sound like the way people normally talk.’ The ‘everybody does it’ defense – on NPR!” (11). Mr. Reuter is upset. He does not like it when someone tells him it is ok to speak the way the people speak. While we may find this strange, given our current assessment of a changing English language, others, still, are outraged: “…Irregardless is not a word!” writes Jennifer Dignan of Literary Cavalcade, “Think about it: the prefix ‘ir’ means ‘not,’ so irregardless means ‘not without regard to.’ Or, it would mean that, if it were a word. Which it is not” (23). Clearly, our language can be something of a stumbling block—and we, its constituents, are subject to bouts of “grammar rage”—if you will. But would it not be almost as interesting to concern ourselves with all the fuss over the rules, as opposed to the rules themselves? Perhaps, but what we find most prevalent in critical circles is, inevitably, little more than criticism and criticism of criticisms. Boring. And here, in our present mode, it will certainly prove more entertaining to conduct an examination of the natural processes which engender change—not, as it would seem—the blathering of critics. Let us look closely at what Dignan has, so painstakingly, pointed out.
Dignon illustrated what she deemed irregardless’ problem: that it is some fantastic newfangled form of the dreaded double-negative. Perhaps this is not such a bad thing, because “in many other languages—and in some local or dialectal forms of English both today and in earlier times—multiple negatives are intensifiers, adding emphasis. Irregardless has a fine flow about it, with a stronger negative feel than regardless that some people obviously find attractive. Indeed, the stress pattern of the word probably influenced the addition of the prefix” (Quinion). Clearly, we could go back and forth. And, for the sake of argument, we shall. Kreyche, speaking for Dignan’s side, says, “As much as we hear the word, irregardless, it is not a legitimate one. To allow it would be to negate what is intended. The old rule still holds true that ‘two negatives make a positive.’ Regardless is the proper term” (82). But does it sound better? We have seen that many English speakers have couched their grammar upon little more than what they hear from the mouths of their associates. Truly, Americans, as most English speakers alive today, are hit daily by voices from all angles, all perspectives, all directions. It is in this manner that the media emerges, again, as a harbinger—as the harbinger—of endemic change in a grammar. Indeed, Soukhanov writes, “When our so-called role models in the media make botcheries such as these, they creep into general usage” (166). Sounds like she may be on Dignan’s team, but we won’t fault her for that. If the media is responsible for the things that “creep into general usage,” perhaps this is how the language has—and will—change along the course of the future. If that be the case, then it will certainly be much easier to examine than when we choose to look at our English through a critic’s lens, which seeks not to monitor, but to condemn or applaud—whichever seems right at the time. Who could argue that irregardless is not in use? There are none. But leaving that argument aside, we must finally, make a prediction about a future date—a date at which irregardless is as common as, say, irrespective or irresponsible. Those words, to this writers ear, are quite pleasing in sound and much easier to use than their roots. Perhaps what ends up accepted, or acceptable, is simply that which projects the most pleasing sound to the ears.
In closing, we should remember the Sufi dervish and our grammarian debating at the well. Well, which is to be master? Where does one get the idea that he is right, and the other wrong? Annette Kolodny, in her “Letting Go Our Grand Obsessions: Notes Toward a New Literary History of the American Frontiers,” gives some revealing insight into our dilemma. If we are to understand the origin of a word’s initial “acceptance,” we should understand something of origins themselves. “I am asking that we once and for all eschew the myth of origins” Kolodny writes, “—with its habits of either fetishizing or marginalizing race, place and ethnicity [...] there can be no Ur-landscape because there are so many borderlands…” (Lauter, 136). Kolodny has stricken the mark, so to speak. There are, indeed, “many borderlands.” And while she is referring to the quantification and qualification of colonial and post-colonial literatures, we must take her insight and run with it, as it is so fresh—so untarnished by destructive critical focus. What she proposes must apply to what lies beyond the literature itself, what surrounds all literature—literally—the grammar by which that literature is, quite literally, defined. Kolodny, in this sense, offers a hand to both the dervish and the grammarian. Her insight is above reproach. She has opened the door, albeit to her probable dismay, for new words—words of such dubious character as irregardless—to waltz beyond daily usage and find themselves excepted, nearly immune to criticism. A word with no definable origin, no “Ur-landscape,” which is certainly the case with irregardless, cannot be pinned down. One can judge it neither inappropriate—or appropriate. It will, like most of its kind, remain, quite simply—a word. And, to this writer, a most wonderful word indeed. “So the precedents are all on the side of irregardless,” Quinion writes, “and—despite the opinions of the experts—I suspect the word will become even more popular in the US in the future.”
What’s in a word? Was that the question? No. The question was something like: What changes facilitate the induction or discharge of a word or phrase from acceptable use in the English language, maybe any language? Sadly, this is a question which we may not have answered. But we have pinpointed an epicenter. Certainly, debates will always rage. In fact, it is evident that debate exists, often times, for its own sake. If future English speakers decide—or are “permitted”—to add emphasis to their words by means of inflections added to the beginnings, rather than the endings, of their root words, what could be wrong with that? A close examination of the use of irregardless as an English word reveals the very process by which a language evolves. In fact, the word has remarkable rhetorical powers, and seems a delightfully fluid way to end a sentence—an entire essay even. As we have seen, this unusual word does in fact exist, irregardless.
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Works Cited
Crystal, David. The Cambridge Encyclopedia of the English Language. 2nd ed. New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2003.
Dignan, Jennifer. “Get it Straight.”
Literary Cavalcade Mar. 2005: 22-24.
Kister, K.F. “What to Look For in a Dictionary.”
Consumers’ Research Magazine Apr. 2002: 22-25.
Kreyche, Gerald, F. “Tripping Over the English Tongue.”
USA Today Magazine Sept. 1997: 82.
Lauter, Paul, et al., eds. The Heath Anthology of American Literature. 5th ed. 5 vols. Lexington: Heath, 2004.
Merriam – Webster Online. Nov. 2005.
< http://webster.com/dictionary/irregardless>.
Quinion, Michael. “Irregardless.” World Wide Words
Oct. 2005. <http://www.worldwidewords.org/qa/qa-irr1.htm>.
Rueter, Ted. “English on the Chopping Block.”
Christian Science Monitor 7 Dec. 1998: 11.
Shah, Idries. Tales of the Dervishes. New York: Arkana, 1993.
Soukhanov, Anne, H . “Protecting Our Language.”
Town & Country Sept. 2001: 166.
Stein, Jess., et al. eds. The Random House Collegiate Dictionary. rev. ed. New York: Random House, 1988.
Stingl, Sjim. “[Syntax].” Writer 114. 4 (2001): 10-11.
Wallace, David Foster. “Tense Present Democracy, English, and the Wars over Usage.” Harper’s Magazine Apr. 2001: 39-58.
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©2005 Sam Heard