Catching Tigers
July 9, 2011
I love Wallace Stevens’ poetry. He, like William Carlos Williams and T.S. Eliot, attempted something new and fresh with poetry in the mid 20th century. And perhaps the mark of their success is that their poetry is still fresh to me every time I read it. One of my favorite Stevens poems is “Disillusionment at 10 O’Clock”. In a sea of white nightgowns in suburban type houses, an old sailor somewhere dreams of “catching tigers in red weather”. Scholars debate Stevens’ meaning–is he making a statement about imagination? Is he condemning the humdrum mediocrity of the middle class? Is he mourning the loss of creativity? I think it could any of these things or all of these things. But I’ve always liked to believe that he was happy for the sailor, that one didn’t have to be addled or drunk to access the “red weather” or to chase tigers. I’m the first to admit that I sometimes get lost in the white nightgowns, but it is wonderful to live in a place where the tigers are so near.
This morning, when given the choice to do anything–Owen chose to hike his favorite trail. It was a trail made even more beautiful by the fact that just a few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have been able to hike it. I felt an even stronger kinship with the flowers and leaves that hang on through the winter to make a comeback every season. Along the way, Owen picks up sticks–each one with a unique ability to cut down trees, or make magical food, or paint. He is a constant and steady stream of story, babbling in harmony with water beside the trail. I love that he loves the trail. I love that he has favorite parts, that he knows what is coming next (the rhododendron tunnel, the clearing, the waterfall). I love that we have trekked it so often that we have stories to tell of the trail itself (remember when we fell in? remember when we saw the snake? remember when it was deep in snow?). And mostly, I love the imagination borne of sticks and rocks. We didn’t catch any real tigers (thank goodness!), nor anything else tangible. But I think Mr. Stevens would approve.
