[1] With the rain in my shoes... RF |
One hopes not.
Kentucky Rain is a beautiful song, and I am assuming the very best of motives (this is fiction after all) on the part of writers, singer, and seeker. Over the course of the next few weeks and months, we will begin to explore more "quest" images in literature and music. It has been with us as long as there have been cave paintings and campfire stories. Quest tales probably predate fire itself.
Let's take a listen.
[b] Myth RF |
We'll explore this theme in future posts, too. You see, Claude Lévi-Strauss would know exactly what do do with this song. It is a myth, and a powerful one at that.
If, by chance you associate the word "myth" with "not true," we still have a lot of work to do on Round and Square. Keep reading. Short answer—myth is one of the most powerful forces of social knowledge in the history of mankind. The everyday definition is seriously lacking. For more on how myth "works," take a look at Theory Corner. In the meantime, this is one of the best songs ever performed, and Elvis's rendition brings to mind a kind of campfire myth-telling mixed with shamanistic determination.
Kentucky Rain
Elvis Presley |
Seven lonely days and a dozen towns ago
I reached out one night and you were gone
Don't know why you'd run, what you're running to or from
All I know is I want to bring you home
So I'm walking in the rain, thumbin' for a ride
On this lonely Kentucky backroad
I've loved you much too long; my love's too strong
To let you go, never knowing what went wrong.
Chorus
Kentucky rain keeps pouring down,
And up ahead's another town that I'll go walking through
With the rain in my shoes, searching for you
In the cold Kentucky rain, in the cold Kentucky rain.
Showed your photograph to some old gray bearded men
Sitting on a bench outside a general store
They said "Yes, she's been here"
But their memory wasn't clear.
Was it yesterday? No, wait the day before.
Finally got a ride, with a preacher man who asked,
"Where you bound on such a cold, dark afternoon?"
As we drove on through the rain, as he listened, I explained
And he left me with a prayer that I'd find you.
Repeat Chorus
Kentucky rain keeps pouring down,
And up ahead's another town that I'll go walking through
With the rain in my shoes, searching for you
In the cold Kentucky rain, in the cold Kentucky rain.
All I know is I want to bring you home
So I'm walking in the rain, thumbin' for a ride
On this lonely Kentucky backroad
I've loved you much too long; my love's too strong
To let you go, never knowing what went wrong.
Chorus
Kentucky rain keeps pouring down,
And up ahead's another town that I'll go walking through
With the rain in my shoes, searching for you
In the cold Kentucky rain, in the cold Kentucky rain.
Showed your photograph to some old gray bearded men
Sitting on a bench outside a general store
They said "Yes, she's been here"
But their memory wasn't clear.
Was it yesterday? No, wait the day before.
Finally got a ride, with a preacher man who asked,
"Where you bound on such a cold, dark afternoon?"
As we drove on through the rain, as he listened, I explained
And he left me with a prayer that I'd find you.
Repeat Chorus
Kentucky rain keeps pouring down,
And up ahead's another town that I'll go walking through
With the rain in my shoes, searching for you
In the cold Kentucky rain, in the cold Kentucky rain.
[c] Contemplation RF |
This week, we are going to signal a striking contrast with the song...or not (you decide if they're similar or different). It is a Ming dynasty poem about one person's heartthrob who is going into the realm of the Buddha. Enjoy the contrast, and think about what "myth" and "quest" might mean in starkly different contexts. Enjoy the fine translation from Jonathan Chaves.
Saying Good-bye to a Singing Girl
Who Has Decided to Become a Nun
Mo Shilong (Ming; 1539-1587)
You have called at the gate of the True Vehicle
your worldly self is no more.
You have said farewell forever
to the golden chambers,
the wind and the dust.
Lightly you wield the yak-tail whisk;
your singing fan lies on the floor.
You learn to adjust to the meditation cushion,
and laugh at the dancer's mat.
No more resentment when rouge fades
like red flowers;
no longer will the feathered hairdo appear in your mirror
the wind and the dust.
Lightly you wield the yak-tail whisk;
your singing fan lies on the floor.
You learn to adjust to the meditation cushion,
and laugh at the dancer's mat.
No more resentment when rouge fades
like red flowers;
no longer will the feathered hairdo appear in your mirror
Mist, light, water—quiet Zen mind:
I know a springtime
will bloom
in the realm of emptiness.[1]
[1] Victor Mair, The Columbia Anthology of Traditional Chinese Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 285. Translation by Jonathan Chaves.
Bibliography
Mair, Victor. The Columbia Anthology of Traditional Chinese Literature. New York: Columbia University Press, 1994.
I know a springtime
will bloom
in the realm of emptiness.[1]
[1] Victor Mair, The Columbia Anthology of Traditional Chinese Literature (New York: Columbia University Press, 1994), 285. Translation by Jonathan Chaves.
Bibliography
Mair, Victor. The Columbia Anthology of Traditional Chinese Literature. New York: Columbia University Press, 1994.
NEXT
Sunday, July 10th
Amarillo By Morning
Next Sunday we'll explore a country classic and its relation to the geography of life and change. He'll be lookin' for eight when they pull that gate...
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