Blog No. 223: 42: T.S. Eliot The Hollow Men, Animal Communicator Laïla Del Monte, Kakatsitsi Drummers

The powers that be say we have about two months to turn this thing around and it all depends on us showing up in the street en masse…Wherever you go (there will be protests across the country) , please go! So important to show numbers…

And in the words of Robert Hubbell, “If you are feeling anxious and helpless, the single most important thing you can do is to exercise the First Amendment right of every American to “assemble peaceably and to petition their government.” The time is now!

T.S. Eliot,
The Hollow Men

Illustration courtesy Trent Carbaugh

THE HOLLOW MEN by T.S. Eliot

I was introduced to this poem fifty years ago by my first boyfriend, who is the one who turned me onto poetry in the first place. This poem stuck with me and I came across it recently and thought it particularly apt today...

Here goes...

The Hollow Men
T. S. Eliot (1888 –1965)

I
We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men 
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when 
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass 
Or rats’ feet over broken glass
In our dry cellar
Shape without form, shade without colour. 
Paralysed force, gesture without motion;
Those who have crossed
With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom
Remember us—if at all—not as lost 
Violent souls, but only 
As the hollow men

                                II
Eyes I dare not meet in dreams 
In death’s dream kingdom 
These do not appear:
There, the eyes are 
Sunlight on a broken column 
There, is a tree swinging
And voices are
In the wind’s singing
More distant and more solemn 
Than a fading star.
Let me be no nearer 
In death’s dream kingdom
Let me also wear
Such deliberate disguises
Rat’s coat, crowskin, crossed staves
In a field
Behaving as the wind behaves 
No nearer—
Not that final meeting
In the twilight kingdom

                              III
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man’s hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Is it like this
In death’s other kingdom
Waking alone
At the hour when we are 
Trembling with tenderness 
Lips that would kiss
Form prayers to broken stone.

                              IV
The eyes are not here 
There are no eyes here 
In this valley of dying stars
In this hollow valley
This broken jaw of our lost kingdoms
In this last of meeting places 
We grope together
And avoid speech
Gathered on this beach of the tumid river
Sightless, unless 
The eyes reappear 
As the perpetual star
Multifoliate rose 
Of death’s twilight kingdom 
The hope only
Of empty men.

                              V
Here we go round the prickly pear 
Prickly pear prickly pear 
Here we go round the prickly pear 
At five o’clock in the morning.
Between the idea 
And the reality 
Between the motion 
And the act 
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
Between the conception 
And the creation
Between the emotion 
And the response 
Falls the Shadow
Life is very long
Between the desire 
And the spasm 
Between the potency 
And the existence 
Between the essence
And the descent 
Falls the Shadow
For Thine is the Kingdom
For Thine is 
Life is
For Thine is the
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends 
This is the way the world ends 
Not with a bang but a whimper.

This poem is in the public domain.

Animal Communicator
Laïla Del Monte

Meet Laila Del Monte, animal communicator, better known in France and Spain for her ability to communicate with animals as well as to heal them. She has worked with birds cats, dogs, ferrets, goats, hamsters, horses, parrots, rabbits, rats, and turtles. Although she recognizes that she has a gift, she also believes that everyone is capable of what she does. For that reason, in addition to being the author of six books, she also teaches. To see a full 50 minute documentary about this fascinating woman and the work she does, click here.

Kakatsitsi Drummers

Kakatsitsi Drummers from the Ga Tribe in Ghana.

There are certain sounds that I find soothing and energizing at the same time--the beat of these African drums does just that for me. As a little interlude and respite from all the turmoil of our day, listen to the power of this group of traditional drummers, dancers and singers called Kakatsitsi, from the Ga tribe of Southern Ghana. They have their roots in the fishing community of Jamestown, Ghana and combine traditional rhythms and chants from their own Ga tradition while also mixing in a variety of other Western African cultural traditions.

Gert Mathiesen’s self portrait—it would have been his 73rd birthday this week!

Charity of the Week: American Civil Liberties Union


About The Author

New York City based contemporary artist, Pam Smilow, began writing the creative lifestyle blog “things we love” in an effort to foster a sense of community during times of isolation and reflection. To read more about her and her art, visit her website and check out the essay written by Frank Matheis entitled The Sophisticated Innocence of Pam Smilow.

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