“This is the strangest life I’ve ever known.”
Jim Morrison, The Doors
It is life enough. And life, this one and only life, is very strange indeed. To what life would we compare it?
Early on we begin the process of getting used to life. That is the first human tragedy. Slowly we become accustomed to the peculiarity of being alive. The fact that we stand, walk, talk and turn cake into body fat ceases to amaze us, the mystery obscured by familiarity. One must position oneself slightly cockeyed within the norm to glimpse the oddness of life. That we should even be when not being would be easier boggles the inquiring mind. Yet here we are, thrown head first life-long into the world. Most of us stop wondering about little things and save wonderment for sunsets and other marvels.
It is the poet’s work to articulate the strangeness in the ordinary, to call the infinite out of hiding and make it visible and audible with words. Poetry is the antidote to the poison that seeps into our minds and causes acute familiarity. Jim Morison chose his band’s name The Doors from a quotation from William Blake:
“If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, Infinite.
The poet attempts to clean the doors of perception, so we will not see our opinions and interpretations of the world but the world as it appears even in the commonplace, strange and shimmering with rediscovered radiance.