3rd Degree (Grado 3º)
Huelen Lodge of A.F. & A.M.
Santiago, Chile
E-Mail: benedictocerda@ anti-spam@gmail.com
Website: www.benedictocerda.com
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Carlos L.Cerda |
W.·.M.·., Dear Brethren,
Could we speak about poetry in Masonry and forget the name of Robert Burns? Impossible, and let it be.
Robert Burns was initiated an Entered Apprentice in Lodge St. David, Tarbolton on 4 July 1781, at the age of 23.
Freemasonry’s influence on Burns’s poetry is quite visible. His Masonic poems show his great love and admiration for the Craft and its ideals. He was a man full of virtues and imperfections but whatever your opinions of Burns’s passions, one must argue that Burns had the good of the fraternity in his heart. There is no doubt that Burns had a very rough life. Burns found no comfort for his woes in the church or his society, but Freemasonry remained one of the most important aspects of his life. Even during the time when all others had abandoned and condemned him, the lodge still welcomed him as a brother, and he never forgot it. The “Farewell” to his brothers as St. James Lodge expresses a very sincere sadness in leaving Scotland and his brothers for Jamaica, and many have speculated that the support of his lodge brothers encouraged him to stay and produce some of his greatest works. Freemasonry provided Burns with an “alternative” form of patronage for his works free from aristocratic influence and restrictions imposed by the patron of the artist.
The very mention of the name “Robert Burns” brings to mind images of red roses, starry-eyed lovers, Tam-O’-Shanter and the Cutty Sark, and the glens of bonnie Scotland. And while these images describe Scotland’s “ploughman poet” to some extent, there is another side of Burns that is not as well known: Burns, the radical — Burns, the supporter of the French Revolution — Burns, the critic of Religious hypocrisy and Puritanism — Burns, the Freemason.
But who was Robert Burns?
Robert Burns was born at Alloway, near Ayr, on January 25th, 1759. His father William was a gardener who did his best to educate his bright and lively son even though not many years could be spent at school. Robert was educated briefly at John Murdoch’s school in Alloway and later in Ayr. Still, Burns was a reader and learnt not only the ins and outs of his own language, but English as well (and some French).
Burns was the eldest of seven children to William Burness and Agnes Brown (or Broun). Well educated in a variety of subjects, from Scottish history and folklore to literature, Burns was forced to assist his father in working on the family farm, and took over at 25 when his father died in 1784.
By 28, Burns was beginning to be well known in his literary career; in 1786 he published “Poems: Chiefly in Scottish Dialect”, which was expanded in 1787 and again in 1793. Beginning in 1786, Burns would spend much time in Edinburgh among the elite and intellectuals of Scottish society, although Burns felt that they were only patronizing him because his soul of literary genius lay within the body of a country bumpkin. He returned to Ayrshire and unsuccessfully tried farming; in 1791 he became an excise man, or customs agent, and joined the local yeomanry unit, the Dumfiresshire Volunteers. However, the physical and mental toll of his hard life, plus growing financial burdens, weakened him, and in 1796, Burns died of rheumatic heart disease, caused by his lack of a healthy diet in his younger years.
His English poetry is considered “okay” but not especially inspired. Rather, Robert Burns achieved immortality through his almost single-handed efforts to reinvigorate the Scottish vernacular through his wonderful poetry and his rescue of hundreds of the folk songs of Scotland.
Robert Burns’ poetry revolves around country and town life, the life he knew. He wrote satires about the “high and mighty”, particularly the self-righteous and the tyranny of the kirk (Address to the Unco Guid). He composed beautiful love poems (Jean), some tender, some sassy, about the many women he loved. He wrote with affection, respect and often high humor (Tam o’Shanter) about country folk and their lives. He had a heart for the wee-est of creatures (To a Mouse, To a Louse) — and could compose at the drop of a hat.
Chiefly, his did immeasurable service to Scotland by reviving and rewriting dozens upon dozens of Scottish folk songs — taking the old tunes as he had learnt them, drawing upon memory for a glimpse of what they’d been about, taking perhaps a phrase or stanza, and then rewriting the songs with his own lyrics — an incredible achievement which revitalized Scottish culture and pride (at a time when it was much needed and to this very day).
Alas, no one is talented in every direction (especially famous poets, it seems). Burns failed at farming and, indeed, at every occupation he tried (aside from writing). In desperation, he published a book of his poems in 1786 and achieved an unexpected success. Unfortunately, the proceeds were ultimately used up when invested in farms that failed.
Discouraged and dissipated (ah, yes, that good old-fashioned word), Burns died at the age of 37, having gone against his doctor’s advice to give up the drink.
Had it not been for his extraordinary genius, he might have lived and died a typical ne’er-do-well. Fondness for the ladies, without benefit of clergy (he did finally marry Jean Armour — after they’d had four children), fondness for drink, and a complete lack of business sense have been the downfall of many a charming young man.
But Rabbie Burns was more than charming, more than handsome. He had a genuine love for people, a real respect for the down-and-outers of the world, and he really did love all those ladies (and they loved him back). He worked extremely hard at his poetry and his songs (for which he never accepted a penny, he considered the songs his gift to the Scottish people). This generosity of spirit marks what is best in the heart of man, and that is why the Scots took Rabbie Burns into their hearts and why we take him into ours.
Here is one of Robert Burn’s most famous love poems:
Burns could not guess whether the afterlife would be merely “to moulder with the clods of the valley” or to some reward for “having acted an honest part among his fellow creatures”. “The close of life”, he wrote, “to a reasoning eye is ‘dark as was chaos”.
Throughout his life Burns advocated an earthy, this-worldly religion. He believed passions were a gift of God for human pleasure, and that a religion of love must include sex. He looked askance at theology, which he thought a life-denying tool of priestly power. He denied original sin. “I believe in my conscience that the case is just quite contrary,” he wrote to Frances Dunlop in 1788. “We came into this world with a heart and disposition to do good for it, until by dashing a large mixture of base Alloy called Prudence alias Selfishness, the too precious Metal of the Soul is brought down to the blackward Sterling of ordinary currency.”
Burns never joined a Unitarian Church or any particular religious faction. Of large spirit, he was an eighteenth-century Scottish equivalent of the English Rational Dissenter or a New England Congregationalist Arminian. Like the God of William Ellery Channing, Burns´s deity was an “object of our reverential awe and grateful adoration” from whose “divine promise” no one is excluded, save by themselves. God is “almighty, and all bounteous” and Jesus Christ, “a great Personage”. Burns believed that in the end it is the quality of our lives, which counts. He summed his faith in Jamie Dean’s grace: “Lord, grant that we may lead a gude life; for a gude life makes a gude end; at least it helps weel!”
I am about to end this short talk, then what a best way to do so I wonder but listening to “Auld Lang Syne”, don’t you think so?
To the best of my knowledge,
Carlos L. Cerda
September 13, 2007
Bibliography:
Robert Burns and Freemasonry By World Burns Club Member –
Todd J. Wilkinson (www.worldburnsclub.com)
Biography of Robert Burns – Poet of Scotland (www.heartoscotland.com)
Auld Lang Syne lyrics (www.hogmanay.net/history/auldlangsyne)
¿Podemos hablar de lírica en la Masonería y olvidarnos del nombre de Robert Burns? Imposible, y es mejor que sea así.
Robert Burns se inició como Aprendiz en la Logia St. David, de Tarbolton el 4 de Julio de 1781, a la edad de 23 años.
La influencia de la M.·. en la poesía de Robert Burns es más que evidente. Sus poemas de corte masónico exhiben su gran amor y admiración por la O.·. y sus ideales. Fue un hombre lleno de virtudes y defectos, pero cualquiera sea la opinión acerca de las pasiones de Burns nadie podrá discutir que Burns sentía el calor de la fraternidad en su corazón.
Es indiscutible que tuvo una vida muy difícil. Burns no encontró consuelo para sus pesares ni en la iglesia ni en la comunidad, pero la M.·. fue uno de los aspectos más importantes de su vida. Cuando todos los otros lo habían abandonado y condenado, su logia aún le seguía dando la bienvenida y jamás lo olvidó. La Despedida (The Farewell) a sus hermanos de la Logia St. James trasunta una profunda tristeza al dejar a Escocia y a sus hermanos rumbo a Jamaica, y muchos han especulado que el apoyo de sus hermanos de logia lo estimularon a quedarse y producir uno de sus trabajos más extraordinarios. La M.·. le entregó a Burns una forma “alternativa” de patrocinio para su trabajo, liberándolo de la influencia aristocrática y restricciones que le imponía el mecenas del artista.
La sola mención del nombre de “Robert Burns” nos trae a la memoria las imágenes de rosas rojas, amantes de ojos soñadores, Tam-O’-Shanter and the Cutty Sark, y los valles estrechos y gentiles de Escocia. Y mientras en alguna medida estas imágenes describen al “poeta campesino” de Escocia, hay otra faceta de Burns que no es tan conocida: Burns el radical –Burns, el defensor de la Revolución Francesa –Burns, el crítico de la hipocresía y rigurosidad religiosa –Burns, el Francmasón.
Pero, ¿quién era Robert Burns?
Robert Burns nació en Alloway, cerca de Ayr, Escocia, el 25 de Enero de 1759. Su padre era jardinero e hizo lo mejor para educar a su brillante y activo hijo, aunque no pudiese pasar muchos años en el colegio. Robert se educó brevemente en el colegio John Murdoch de Alloway y más tarde en Ayr. Aún así, Burns era un gran lector y aprendió no sólo los pros y contras de su propio idioma, sino que del inglés también (y algo de Francés).
Burns era el mayor de siete hijos de William Burness y Agnes Brown (o Broun). Bien educado en una diversidad de materias, desde historia de Escocia al folklore y la literatura, Burns se vio obligado a ayudar a su padre en el trabajo de la parcela de la familia, y tomó el control a la edad de 25 años cuando su padre murió en 1784.
A la edad de 28 años, Burns empezaba a ser bien conocido en su carrera literaria; en 1786 publicó “Poems: Chiefly in Scottish Dialect” (Poemas: Especialmente en Dialecto Escocés), el que fue incrementado en 1787 y de nuevo en 1793. A comienzos de 1786, Burns pasaría mucho tiempo en Edimburgo entre la elite e intelectuales de la sociedad Escocesa, aunque Burns sentía que sólo lo estaban protegiendo porque su alma de genio literario yacía dentro del cuerpo de un país campesino. Volvió a Ayrshire y fracasó en sus intentos agrícolas; en 1791 se transformó en tasador de impuestos de consumo, o agente de aduana, y se unió a la unidad de pequeños terratenientes locales, los Dumfiresshire Volunteers. Sin embargo, el tributo físico y mental de su dura vida, más la creciente carga financiera, lo debilitaron, y en 1796, Burns murió de una enfermedad cardiaca reumática causada por la carencia de una dieta saludable en sus años juveniles.
Su poesía inglesa es considerada “aceptable” pero no particularmente inspirada. Más bien, Robert Burns alcanzó la inmortalidad a través de sus esfuerzos casi solitarios para revigorizar el Escocés popular a través de su maravillosa poesía y el rescate de cientos de canciones folklóricas escocesas.
La poesía de Robert Burns gira alrededor del campo y la vida de pueblo, la vida que él conoció. Escribió sátiras de la “arrogancia”, especialmente de los santurrones y la tiranía de la iglesia (Dirigido Al Unco Guid). Compuso hermosos poemas de amor (Jean), algunos tiernos, algunos insolentes, acerca de las muchas mujeres que amó. Escribió con afecto, respeto y a menudo mucho humor (Tam O’ Shanter) acerca del folklore campesino y sus vidas. Tuvo corazón para la criatura más pequeñita (A una Laucha, A un Piojo) –y pudo componer sentado la languidez de un sombrero.
Principalmente, el prestó un servicio ilimitado a Escocia al revivir y volver a escribir docenas y docenas de canciones folklóricas escocesas – tomando las antiguas canciones como las había aprendido, recurriendo a la memoria para una vista fugaz de lo que habían sido, tal vez cogiendo una frase o estrofa, y luego reescribiendo las canciones con su propia letra –una increíble realización que revitalizó la cultura y orgullo Escocés (en un tiempo cuando era muy necesario y hasta hoy mismo).
¡Qué lástima! Nadie es talentoso en todos los aspectos (especialmente parece suceder con los poetas famosos). Burns fracasó en la agricultura y, en verdad, en toda ocupación que intentara (aparte de la escritura). Desesperado, publicó un libro de poemas el año 1786 y consiguió un éxito inesperado. Desafortunadamente, las utilidades se agotaron al invertirlas en plantaciones que fracasaron. Desencantado y disipado (ah, si, esa buena y anticuada palabra), Burns murió a la edad de 37 años, habiendo contradicho el consejo de su médico de no seguir bebiendo.
Si no hubiese sido por su genio extraordinario, podría haber vivido y muerto como el típico ser que nunca hace bien las cosas. Cariñoso con las damas, sin beneficio de clerecía (finalmente se casó con Jean Armour –después de haber tenido cuatro hijos), inclinado a la bebida, y una completa carencia de sentido comercial ha sido la ruina de muchos hombres encantadores.
Pero Rabbie Burns fue más que encantador, más que atractivo. Él tenía un genuino amor por la gente, un verdadero respeto por las miserias del mundo, y el verdaderamente amaba a todas aquellas damas (y ellas le amaban a él). Trabajó extremadamente fuerte en su poesía y en sus canciones (por lo cual nunca aceptó un penique, el consideraba las canciones un regalo para los Escoceses). Esta generosidad de espíritu marca lo mejor en el corazón de un hombre, y es por eso que los Escoceses llevan a Rabbie Burns en su corazón y por qué nosotros en el nuestro.
He aquí uno de los poemas de amor más famosos de Robert Burns:
MI AMOR
Sí, mi amor es rosa, rosa roja,
Que en Junio se llena otra vez de júbilo:
Oh, mi amor es como la melodía,
Que dulcemente se hace trova.
Tú cual bello arte mi plácida doncella,
Tan enamorado me tienes;
Y aún te amaré a ti, mi preciosa
Hasta que se extinga el mar.
Hasta que el mar se extinga, mi preciosa,
Y las rocas se derritan por el sol;
Aún te amaré a ti mi preciosa,
Mientras escurra la arena de la vida.
Y hasta siempre, mi único amor!
Hasta siempre por un instante!
Entonces otra vez llegaré a tu lado, mi preciosa,
Aunque estuviera a diez mil millas de aquí.
Burns no podía adivinar si la vida después de la muerte sería meramente “hacerse moho con los surcos del valle” o tener alguna recompensa por “haber actuado de forma honesta con tus semejantes”. “El cierre de la vida”, escribió, “para el ojo que razona es oscuridad como lo fue el caos”.
A través de su vida Burns abogó por una religión terrenal, secular. Él creía que las pasiones eran un regalo de Dios para el placer de los seres humanos, y que una religión de amor debía incluir el sexo. El miraba con desconfianza a la teología a la que veía como una herramienta de negación de la vida del poder sacerdotal. Negaba el pecado original. “Mi conciencia me dice que el caso es justamente al revés”, escribió a Frances Dunlop en 1788. “Llegamos a este mundo con el corazón y la actitud por hacer el bien, hasta que al arrojar una gran mezcla con base de Aleación llamada prudencia alias Egoísmo, los preciosos Metales del Alma caen hacia el negro Esterlina de la moneda corriente”.
Burns nunca se hizo miembro de una Iglesia Unitaria o alguna facción de religión en particular. De gran espíritu, el fue un escocés del siglo dieciocho equivalente a la English Rational Dissenter o una New England Congregationalist Arminian. Como el Dios de William Ellery Channing, la deidad de Burns fue un “objeto de nuestro despertar reverente y agradecida adoración” de cuya “promesa divina” nadie se salva por si mismo. Dios es “todopoderoso, y todo generosidad” y Jesucristo, “un gran Personaje”. Burns creía que al fin es la calidad de nuestras vidas la que cuenta. El resumía su fe en la rogativa de Jaime Dean: “Señor, garantízanos que podamos seguir una buena vida; porque una buena vida produce un buen final; al menos lo ayuda bien!”
Al finalizar esta plancha me pregunto que mejor forma de hacerlo escuchando “Auld Lang Syne” (“Times gone by”), ¿les parece?
Los seres que pasan se olvidarán
Y, ¿nunca volverán a nuestra memoria?
Los seres que pasan se olvidarán
Y, ¿el tiempo que se fue? …
S.·.F.·.U.·.
Carlos L. Cerda
13 de Septiembre de 2007
W.·.M.·., Dear Brethren,
The best general notion that I can give of poetry is, that it is the natural impression of any object or event, by its vividness exciting an involuntary movement of imagination and passion, and producing, by sympathy, a certain modulation of the voice, or sounds, expressing it.
Poetry is the language of the imagination and the passions. It relates to whatever gives immediate pleasure or pain to the human mind. It comes home to the bosoms and businesses of men; for nothing but what so comes home to them in the most general and intelligible shape, can be a subject for poetry. Poetry is the universal language, which the heart holds with nature and itself. He, who has contempt for poetry, cannot have much respect for himself, or for any thing else. It is not a mere frivolous accomplishment (as some persons have been led to imagine) the trifling amusement of a few idle readers or leisure hours — it has been the study and delight of mankind in all ages. Many people suppose that poetry is something to be found only in books, contained in lines of ten syllables, with like endings; but whatever there is a sense of beauty, or power, or harmony, as in the motion of a wave of the sea, in the growth of a flower, that "spreads its sweet leaves to the air, and dedicates its beauty to the sun", — there is poetry, in its birth. If history is a grave study, poetry may be said to be a graver: its materials lie deeper, and are spread wider.
The child is a poet in fact, when he first plays at hide-and-seek, or repeats the story of Jack the Giant-killer; the shepherd-boy is a poet, when he first crowns his mistress with a garland of flowers; the countryman, when he stops to look at the rainbow; the city-apprentice, when he gazes after the Lord-Mayor's show; the miser, when he hugs his gold; the courtier, who builds his hopes upon a smile; the savage, who paints his idol with blood; the slave, who worships a tyrant, or the tyrant, who fancies himself a god;—the vain, the ambitious, the proud, the choleric man, the hero and the coward, the beggar and the king, the rich and the poor, the young and the old, all live in a world of their own making; and the poet does no more than describe what all the others think and act. If his art is folly and madness, it is folly and madness at second hand. "There is warrant for it." Poets alone have not "such seething brains, such shaping fantasies, that apprehend more than cooler reason" can.
If poetry is a dream, the business of life is much the same. If it is a fiction, made up of what we wish things to be, and fancy that they are, because we wish them so, there is no other or better reality. Ariosto has described the loves of Angelica and Medoro: but was not Medoro, who carved the name of his mistress on the barks of trees, as much enamoured of her charms as he? Homer has celebrated the anger of Achilles: but was not the hero as mad as the poet? Plato banished the poets from his Commonwealth, lest their descriptions the natural man should spoil his mathematical man, who was to be without passions and affections, who was neither to laugh nor weep, to feel sorrow nor anger, to be cast down nor elated by anything. This was a chimera, however, which never existed but in the brain of the inventor; and Homer's poetical world has outlived Plato's philosophical Republic.
Poetry then is an imitation of nature, but the imagination and the passions are a part of man's nature. We shape things according to our wishes and fancies, without poetry; but poetry is the most emphatical language that can be found for those creations of the mind "which ecstasy is very cunning in". Neither a mere description of natural objects, nor a mere delineation of natural feelings, however distinct or forcible, constitutes the ultimate end and aim of poetry, without the heightening of the imagination. The light of poetry is not only a direct but also a reflected light, that, while it shew us the object, throws a sparkling radiance on all around it: the flame of the passions, communicated to the imagination, reveals to us, as with a flash of lightning, the inmost recesses of thought, an penetrates our whole being. Poetry represents forms chiefly as they suggest other forms; feelings, as they suggest forms or other feelings. Poetry puts a spirit of life and motion into the universe. It describes the flowing, not the fixed. It does, not define the limits of sense, nor analyze the distinctions of the understanding, but signifies the excess of the imagination beyond the actual or ordinary impression of any object is that uneasy, exquisite sense of beauty or power that cannot be contained within itself; that is impatient of all limit; that (as flame bends to flame) strives to link itself to some other image of kindred beauty or grandeur; to enshrine itself, as it were, in the highest forms of fancy, and to relieve the aching sense of pleasure by expressing it in boldest manner, and by the most striking examples of the same quality in other instances. Poetry, according to Lord Bacon, for this reason, "has something divine in it, because it raises the mind and hurries it into sublimity, by conforming the shows of things to the desires of the soul, instead of subjecting the soul to external things as reason and history do." It is strictly the language of imagination; and the imagination is that faculty which represents objects, not as they are in themselves, but as they are moulded, by other thoughts and feelings, into an infinite variety of shapes of combinations of power. This language is not the less true to nature because it is false in point of fact; but so much the more true and natural, if it conveys the impression, which the object under the influence of passion makes on the mind. Let an object, for instance, be presented to the senses in a state of agitation or fear-and the imagination will distort or magnify the object, and convert it into the ever is most proper to encourage the fear. "Our eyes are made the fools" of our other faculties. This is the universal law of the imagination,
When Iachimo says of Imogen,
This passionate interpretation of the notion of the flame to accord with the speaker's own feelings is true poetry.
To the best of my knowledge,
Carlos L. Cerda
Bibliography:
Lectures on The English Poets, by William Hazlitt
Howl and other poems, by Allen Ginsberg
W.·.M.·., Dear Brethren,
The warm sweat drops that sometime invaded my forehead, were not dry yet, it is just that the fear to the unknown is something alive, it concentrates the action in a unique point, in that thousandth fraction of a second, the Universe itself, is you.
The strange clothing of the ones present there, was not something that one could see every day. My confused mind sometimes believed to see Knights of The Middle Ages, and then it could see them become elegant smoking-dressed gentlemen, getting ready to receive the King. How to understand such confusion? How to be able to explain the esoteric with the sound of a kiss? How to explain the unexplainable? How to understand on a moony night the sea waves for the first time?
I suddenly remember that it is hard to transmit the way life hits us, one has to live them to understand them. So that was the case, I was trying to understand those strange men, who wore aprons and spoke a weird language. Yes, I was strongly astonished by their language, so there was at least something to start with. The first thing I was able to grasp was the poetic language used there, which embellished the main hermetic speech. I was hardly trying to understand what was mostly present there, poetry, philosophy or secrecy, independently of the obvious antagonisms present between fiction and reason. I decided that poetry would be my first inspiration source at the time of my Initiation. It was evident that there were immeasurable elements to decipher from that ceremony, because I sensed that Masonic language was a never-ending fountain of knowledge, but what else could one ask in terms of understanding if the infant had just been born?
Aristotle literarily defined poetry as "beautiful imitation of Nature". His master, Plato, calls poets "interpreters of the gods", which is a theory that has come until our days through Renaissance, Neoclassicists and Romanticists. Each literary genre assumes its proper poetic language, and no one essentially needs the language of verse, indeed. However, verse allows one to emphasize the tonal, rhythmic and accentual aspects of language.
It is necessary to search for the intrinsic value of poetry in the significant possibilities of language, which must be precise and fully understandable for daily use. On the other hand, in poetry the essential thing is to experience words in all of their virginal plentitude of sense and plasticity; intuition rises over understanding, and image over concept. Then the metaphor is born, which manages to produce a convincing fusion between images that according to experience are apart, and even incompatible; there lies the real bewitchment of poetry.
With anti-poems one starts an unknown reading of the historical condition of man. In this sense, they are anti-poems too, they belong to the literary genre, and they take what is historically real into the distance of aesthetic image and propose that image to their existential planning. From the point of view of its natural characteristics, one would need to link it with the comedy of Aristophanes and his critic to the Athenian society, with the extensions of the Freudian psychoanalysis, the adventures of Charles Chaplin, the description of the existence by Franz Kafka — and a little less clear — in some works by J.P. Sartre.
In the path to anti-poetry, among his expressive work and the weight of his repressed or degraded experiences, the poet has by revelation foreseen that his previous concept of poetry drove him to a false or excessively sublime view of reality and its experiences. His work isn't about "poetizing" reality, but "making real" poetry, this means, taking representations of reality into it. The first step of this liberation and knowledge process is the critic to the established rules in all reachable aspects, in the real as well as in the poetic ones.
The anti-poet needs to have communication with his fellow being. In order to get that, he applies every reachable technique. He uses rhetoric schemes that have shown to be efficient in the middle of the street, which is a place where all people and social levels gather. He speaks as a street salesman or a fair prattler. He appeals to the remaining humanity he thinks he will find in the passing people, who are entranced in their selves and their personal affairs. Urgently he speaks to them:
On the other hand, in order to gather all the judgment elements in our work it is necessary to remember that Masonry is a traditional, philosophic and esoteric institution that reveals its teachings through certain codes, mainly based on symbolism.
Masonic symbols represent the group of ideas directly related to the knowledge of Cosmogony, and therefore of mankind, because this is a small cosmos, a micro cosmos, in a hermetic language. The ancient constructors considered the Cosmos as their symbolic model par excellence, and for hoisting their buildings they imitated the structures of that model, mainly revealed through geometrical shapes, among which we find the circle and the square, respective symbols of sky and earth. Those symbolic shapes and structures are always related to universal archetypes, principles that are contemporary to any time period or historic or personal circumstance. It doesn't matter that today's Masons don't hoist buildings. What is really important is that we can know these very same principles or ideas through the symbols that decorate our temples, which are a meditation subject in our Order.
After gathering all these antecedents, the first question I ask to myself is: Am I satisfied with the title of our work, “Poetry and Anti-poetry versus Masonic Symbolism”?
I will base my answer on the following elements:
1) Poetry is a whole, so it therefore covers aspects of earthly, spatial, philosophic and religious nature. Anti-poetry is part of the poetic language and not as recent as it could seem if we consider what was first explained, in spite of our great sympathy for Nicanor Parra, who has taken it to unsuspected levels, and therefore some may by omission believe that it was him who created this poetic form.
2) Masonry uses poetic language in its works, in an explicit way or unconsciously, given the intellectual level of most of its members, which makes it possible to embellish the oral participations, as well as the written ones. It is improbable that a Mason doesn't feel the poetic influence present in the temples; it would be as if he couldn't feel the influence of music.
3) Is “Poetry and Anti-poetry versus Masonic Symbolism” the proper name for this work? I would say no, according to the discussed matters, perhaps the name "Poetry and Masonic Symbolism" would be more appropriate.
4) I don't see antagonisms between poetry and Masonry, on the contrary, I think that both of them need each other as the herb needs the dew, birds need the wind and night needs the dawn. For the poet, there are not utopias; everything is reachable, similarly it is for the knights of knowledge, who want to know everything. Obviously, Masonry seeks to reach an integral man, but without ever leaving aside Beauty.
I must synthesize that I have felt flattered with this lecture, because by it I will always be able to keep in mind what Pascal said: "Two excesses: to exclude reason, to admit nothing but reason".
This year 2004 we have celebrated the birth of our universal poet Pablo Neruda (1904-1973), then how to forget the legacy of his words? The love for his country? How to conclude a work of this nature without bringing to our temple the wonder of his singing?
To the best of my knowledge
Carlos L. Cerda
December 9, 2004
Bibliography:
El simbolismo masónico www.geocities.com/glolyam/simbolism.htm
Del vanguardismo a la antipoesía. Author: Federico Schopf
Benedito writes: The poem "ALHUÉ" has some messages underneath which can be understood by a Mason, also, thanks to the Masonry I was able to interpret in a better way the question: Where do we come from?
3rd Degree (Grado 3º)
Huelen Lodge of A.F. & A.M.
Santiago, Chile
E-Mail: benedictocerda@ anti-spam@gmail.com
Website: www.benedictocerda.com
Carlos writes: "I am a poet and writer who has already published three books under my pen-name of Benedicto Cerdá: Alhué, Poemas Y Antipoemas (Alhue, Poems And Antipoems), El Bombero Afortunado Y Otros Cuentos (The Lucky Fireman And Other Stories), and lately El Tarro Con Piedras; Cuentos (The Can With Rocks; Stories). This book can be found in the most well known bookshops in Chile.
"Until now, I have translated into the English language only one poem, "Alhué", due to the idiomatic difficulties to translate from my native Spanish to English; also one story, "The Stranger", from the book The Lucky Fireman And Other Stories. I have just finished a novel called De La Güena (Of The Good One), which is a typical expression used by people connected with drugs. The book is being reviewed now and hopefully will be ready to be published by the end of 2008. It is, of course, fiction, and it covers countries like Mexico, U.S.A., Chile, Argentina and Spain."
These essays were all presented on the dates indicated before Huelen Lodge. Huelen is one of three Chilean English-language Lodges under Charter from the M.W. Grand Lodge of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, U.S.A. To explain the name, we look to Cerro Santa Lucia, a small hill in midtown Santiago. Named "Huelen" (well-en') by the Mapuche people, it is the point where conqueror Valdivia decided to found Santiago; the Masonic House of Gran Logia de Chile is only meters away. Huelen Lodge was organized February 8, 1876, and chartered March 14, 1877 by the Grand Lodge of Massachusetts, with the enthusiastic permission of the Grand Lodge of Chile.