Place of Refuge

Place of Refuge
Showing posts with label reproduction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reproduction. Show all posts

24 February 2012

The Historical Beast


Change – we’re in it –


It is interesting to me how this blog, and my relationship with it, has changed.  It began as a performance, a persona who is probably closer to who I was, am, or will be,  than any face I could ever offer the world in my physical body.  And indeed, it is still that.  In my current life, I have a name, a face, a physical being that probably does not look like the woman you imagine could write these words.  I struggle, in essence, because the being inside of me is not the face my body presents to the world.  (I suspect that is true of most of us right now, and it is our challenge, on this earth, to come to terms with the contradictions between what we appear to be and what we really are.) 

I am, in essence, a very old soul who is troubled about the state of the world we live in.  I see us going through monumental change, and yet not acknowledging how profound that change is, and how important it is for humans to accept their role within it. 


We are historical beasts, we humans.  I would argue that is one of the things that makes us different from every other animal on the Animal Planet.  My cats, for instance, are not historical, though they each have a history.  They, however, are oblivious to that; they live in the Now.  Right now, all my cats know is that I am not with them.  

I am traveling right now.

Traveling and thinking.  Asking very hard questions, and contemplating their answers, and the hardest question I like to think about is the nature of the change we, as a race, are currently going through –

I have long felt that we are in a paradigmatic shift, and right now, I am participating in a conference where that language is being very readily used.  It is a conference on education, on the changes needed in education to make it a viable industry for our children to participate in.  And our children are not us, in the most dramatic of ways.

Those of us who made their earthly entrance in the late 1950's, early 1960's, can be labeled in any number of ways: in the United States, we are the end of the Baby Boomers, the end of an age of prosperity that was born out of a victorious war. We were born at the peak of a wave that felt our culture is fundamentally right and good, and we were born right before that wave crested and broke against the rocky shoals of the 1960’s.  We were one of the last ages to trust our parents and others in positions of authority. 

We were one of the last ages to be nursed on Great Books, to be led to believe in the Rightness of the Book, and to love Great Authors.  Our age produced an abundance of English majors, because being an English major allowed us to analyze the by-products of Great Human Minds.  Yet we were also the age that was influenced by the questioning of our immediate predecessors, those who asked why all our Great Books were written only by White Men, thus causing a reassignment of Authority to Women and “Minorities.” 

We were also the first age to be raised solely on television. 




We were a cusp age in that regard, because we have lived our lives in a world where we appreciated and understood the values of the last few centuries, and yet we are the first age that can say that there was never a time in our memory when television did not exist: one might say, we were the first Human Age raised and influenced by a virtual, visual imitation of ourselves.

I hope, dear friends, you can follow this logic, because that’s what it is: logic.  This entry is the painful burden of an unencumbered human mind unraveling the cues that the world provides.  My mind is still an Enlightenment Mind, a Mind that believes that Humans can and do know without technological assistance, and that knowledge can come to us through rigorous study, careful examination of the artifacts of the world around, creative risk, and a good sprinkling of intuition. 

An Enlightenment Mind is profoundly grounded in the Written, Published Text – the Linear  Book, and in language that has been produced for that media.  That’s right: books are a Media, and for a few hundred years, they were the most radical media for disseminating knowledge and provoking creativity.



But the Age of the Book is over. 
Books are now antiquity, and
text
laces through space in a delicate filigree of complexity.

My words,
The words of this blog,
Are part of an increasing cacophony of other words,
A multilingual, unilingual digital embrace which,
Combined
Embodies the workings of the Human Mind.

And we, we lucky Historical Humans alive today
Have been born to witness the rapid transition
From the Age of the Book to
The Age of the Cyborg.


Our children, the current children
Who sit so complacently in our classrooms,
Repugnant
Indulgent
illiterate
Have been born into a New Literacy,
Just as we
Were.
The children of today are “digital natives” and
As such
They are wired to think digitally –
Digital literacy is not Textual literacy
Though Textual literacy is a part of the Digital.

But the Digital Text is not solid –
It practices a New Linearity
                         It is fleeting and acknowledges
The rapidity
With which
It can and will be challenged,
And the children
- if they can survive the education system we still have, an education system that was made to serve the Enlightenment Mind -
Major in Psychology
Because the most provocative fiction they can read
Is the working of Human Mind itself,
And the altered worlds it is capable of producing
At any given moment.

Living through a Major Turning Point in Human History,
Which is what we are doing right now,
Is not without trauma.  It is, in essence,
A Birth,
And in our case right now,
Because of the role our own Technology is playing in it,
It is a New Birth into a Different
Physical Form –
The form of the Cyborg,
And any given Cyborg has an absolutely different relationship with the collective human mind (ie: this internet) than we have had with our own minds for
Centuries.
Indeed, the Cyborg accepts unequivocally
Its own participation
In the collectivity;
It relies
On this wealth
Of Knowledge Production and Reproduction
And laughs fondly,
With warm sentimentality,
Over the antiquity of the notion
Of Originality.


Nothing is Original on this earth, in this realm of reproduction and imitation.  From the moment when the Creative Force (aka God) sought to reproduce an entity in His Own Likeness, we (aka: the likeness) have been doomed to Not Be Original.  And now we have finally figured that out, and accepted it, and at some time, perhaps in the not to distant future, we will come to terms with the fact that once we stop trying to be Original, Once we stop trying to be Authentic and Right and True, we will actually Be
That.



But as I was saying, that will be the future,
Perhaps tomorrow,
Or this evening
When that will happen,
But right now we are Trapped in a Moment of Historical Change,
And we will be that Moment’s By Products.

Our delicate all-to-animal human entities will indeed die
In time
And we will be replaced by a generation that will recognize
That time is inconsequential because
The body is inconsequential
And yet,
The body is sweet –

Perhaps the Human Animal will live on through stubbornness (stubbornness is one of our more endearing qualities).  There will be some of us who will refuse to participate in the Rise of the Cyborg, sort of like Apes refused to participate in the Rise of Man, and we will live and toil on this earthly domain,
Sweetly,
Admiring its beauty,
Nurturing it lovingly,
Accepting our mortality
As a fact of life,
And that too
Will be beautiful –
The sustenance of that type of animal life,
of the Human Beast life,
if the Cyborg allows it,
Will be Eden
All over again.

16 January 2012

Fluidity


When creators
                               begin
                                                   exploring
                                                                            how the most expressive medium


is fluidity itself,




                                       then


we are truly entering a time (non/time)

                                     when the mediums of human creation and godly creation

merge






"And the earth was without form,
and void; and darkness was upon
the  face of the deep.  And
the Spirit of God 
moved upon
the face of the waters."
(Genesis: 1:2)

09 September 2011

Passing



It's all about passing
as something you're not.
The passing can be as significant as
a pauper passing as a prince,
or
as subtle as passing as a blond
when your naturally blond
locks
have begun to dull and face.

I am a woman who strives
for utter truth,
and yet I do it --
I dye my hair.

"I am a true blond,"
I insist
as I await touch-ups
and highlights.

Or at least I was
                          a blond
a decade ago,
or a century ago,
or two.

Born blond, that's me,
and now, I pass
as blond and hopefully appear to be
younger, too,
than I really am.

(  aoltv )

Yes, I'm sitting here, awaiting
color and cut
and admiring the handiwork
of this salon --
4 years straight
voted best in town.

And I'm looking at my fellow
salon clients,
eyebrows slathered in dye,
heads all wrapped in foil,
baking under space-aged dryers,
and I think:
There's no fooling anyone here:
We're all just passing
or trying to pass 
as something we'd much prefer
to be.
A past self we always took for granted;
a future self always changing.
Some of us, if we're lucky
will find
that on the way to passing
each other,
we'll find
ourselves

( allposters ) 


22 May 2011

Two Parts (a channelling)

(well, about a week ago,
or less,
Makropoulos said she was done
with channelling,
and crazy convoluted entries.
Well, she lied.)
( noaa )

The sun and the material world (earth, moon, etc.)
are two parts of a whole
                  a hole whole
two parts have we
                       a yes and a no
two parts, equally:

the burning and the devouring,

the exploding and the imploding

the male and the female

are two parts of a whole,
                    a hole whole.
like
The sun and the material world.
The sun that we see
is the shimmering burning edges
of immortality;

it is the tearing tearing exit from
the void 
out of which we were produced;
the sun is the last thing
we saw when we
aborted, when we were propelled forth
from the womb of the
eternal,
when the 

whole
produced a hole
in which we were born --
we, being the substantial essence
of the whole that is both nothing
and all.

The sun and the material world
(earth, moon, etc.)
are two parts of a whole
a hole whole,
two parts have we
a yes and a no:

two parts, equally.

10 May 2011

To The Rainbow Racers



When you search for the rainbow
throughout your life;
when you gain it and find
there's no rainbow, after all,
well,
you actually have a far better chance
of finding the rainbow where and when you least expect it.

A logical rainbow racer
who has survived
to adulthood and beyond,
who has tested every boundary,
strode every stair,
only to find
there was nothing special up there
is most likely to finally discover

that the end of the rainbow has been here along,
here
on this soil in this paradise of a planet,
my friend --
it's here.  Paradise is here.


We could live in paradise
if we could recognize that we live in it
already.

We are the most regal
                 of the beasts
                               that inhabit paradise;
                                                all of us -
                              we all share paradise
already.

(photo by Makropoulos)

Oh, dear friends:

we create hell by living in paradise and despoiling it.


We are nothing but the noblest animal:
 the beast                            
who was given the job to tend the other bests.
                        Nothing more; nothing less.

By taking that assignment of caretaker
too seriously, we made the mistake of thinking
we were gods as well.

< >

Oh, so wrong, 
you hairless beast
You are only a beast,
and the only similarity
you really have with God
                 is that, if he were 
            to appear to you at this 
moment, God would be hairless, too.
(You see, because in order for God to appear
at this moment, she would
have to find a way that would somewhat reflect
the material world that we live in.
Because God, after all, is not material;
so s/he would appear as a mirror,
because that's the only way s/he could be made manifest
in the physical realm.)

God would appear, and has appeared
as a mirror, and whomever
has confronted or confronts God directly
would only see
themselves.
So humans who encounter God assign whatever
characteristics they personally hold to God,
when in fact they're really just looking at
themselves; thus:
God appears as a black man to a black man; 
she appears as an Asian woman to an Asian woman;
he appears as a crippled boy to a crippled boy;
or he appears as a puppy
to a puppy.

God has appeared differently to all
who have taken the time to view him, and yet
it is all the same God.


So, we must stop fighting dear friends,
we must begin
loving and living in peace;
and then you can just guess
when Paradise would arrive:
At that instant when we stop our fighting and start loving
first: the man or woman in the mirror,
then: the man who doesn't look a thing like you.

For we are all  the noblest animal, 
the beast 
who were given the job to tend after
the other beasts.
                                     Nothing more; nothing less.


29 April 2011

The Age of Narrative Interruptus (a channelling)



Why do we take delight  and more delight
in songs   
stories
movies

that end abruptly?  that don't give closure?

. . . the song that melts away
on the lingering chord 
unresolved?


. . . . the story that does not tell us
that we live happily ever after?  But in-

stead leaves us
                   midsentence
                               midaction
                                       midthought
                              mid deed (?)

(or even before the deed; think:
Raymond Carver,

that dear, dear man who many fiction writers today
love to hate, but, well,
I not only still like his writing,
I also still have great respect
for him.

I actually knew him, he and his wife,
Tess Gallagher,
were my neighbors 
for a few years while
     I lived and studied
in Syracuse.

Notably, I studied Creative Writing there,
which of course is what Ray taught - 
I was in the graduate program
he was part of,
but, also notably,
the year I got there, Carver
got something like a MacArthur, 
and well,
what self-respecting writer really wants to teach
when they don't really have to?
He stopped teaching the year I arrived.

Anyway, it didn't matter, I was so clueless:
I went to Syracuse because I wanted to be a writer,
and not
because I knew anything about the teachers there.
In fact, I didn't know who he was the first time I met him
at a party, and I think that may be why 
he always sort of followed my work
for a few years (until they moved);
he would go to my readings, and talk to me
at parties, and give me all kinds of suggestion.
Looking back at it, I can see he 
kind of took care of me, 
in a very quiet way.
I paid him little heed; I was way
way
too in awe.

So anyway --
think Raymond Carver story. . .



OK,
back to my point about why
we take delight and more delight
in songs,
stories
movies

that end abruptly.

Well,

the Age we have been leaving has been
a Narrative Age,
and the age we have been entering,
rather haltingly and painfully,
but now we are absolutely in it,
is the Age
of Narrative Interruptus.


lastwordonnothing


The Age of Narrative was an age
that sought and sometimes found
happiness in its endings.

The "Happy Ever After" marks
Satisfaction and/or
the Desire for Satisfaction coupled with
the Belief
that Satisfaction is possible.

Since this is the Age we are currently exiting
we have inherited a truckload
of Happy Ever After Tales
that promote and perpetuate
a rather stilted view of the world.

IE:
  • if you are good, Santa will bring you packages;
  • if you clean inside your ears, beans won't grow in them;
  • if you make a lot of money, you'll be happy;
      • (a subnarrative of this one is: money can buy happiness -- if you believe this, just think about how much money it takes to be happy all the time); 
  • if you're a blonde, you're stupid and easily pleased
  • if you a marry a particular type of person just like you, you'll be happy
  • marriage and reproduction are the ONLY routes to happiness
The list goes on:
essentially,
they're all mini narratives, all with
happy endings built right into them,
and we grew up using them
to define our paths in life.


But Hot Damn!
Most of us who are my age
                                  (that's 425, remember)
and over have learned
through this rather miserable experience
called life
that those lovely stories, produced by people
whose time, circumstances & personal beliefs
allowed them to think in terms of happy endings,
are lies.

Lies.


Life happens like this:







(and then it's over)

As we have come to understand this
is the true structure of
life in our time,
our stories --
and the literal structure of all of the stories
that we use to help us understand life
has gradually changed.

We prefer
Narrative Interruptus,
because
that is more true to reality.

~ ~ ~


~ ~ ~
It has taken art: aka:
reality's reproduction
a long time to catch up to reality itself.

Reality is this, this life
we lead, and
within this life we lead,
we Humans  were produced by the Creative Force
(aka: Allah, God, Yahweh)
to be the chroniclers & recorders
of the Force's creation,
to be the ones
to show that fabulous creation S/He produced
to the Master
who produced us.
It is our job to mimic all that we encouter
for the enjoyment
of our Progenitor.
(Yes, we are advanced apes,
we are the ones
in all the animal species
to be given the task of
going forth and finding
a way to show the beauty of nature
to the Creative Force
we call God.

That's our job.

Period.

(and, by the way, every now and then God wants to see this creation,
and that, my friends, is Makropoulos' explanation
of Two Thousand And Twelve:
that year marks the juncture
at which God is able to view
The Creation in its entirety,
and,
well,
we'll see what S/He thinks.

In other words, 2012 marks the end moment of the period of time it takes
(when measured in our realm of time)
for the timeless to be able to perceive
of everything it has produced
for the soul purpose of being able to view Itself.
 Eternity, then,
is best defined as a number, and it looks
like this:

fameisn'teverything

After 2012 (which fundamentally marks
the end of the period of time as it is measured in the realm of time
that it takes the timeless to perceive
of the timed)
we'll know how long infinity is,
and we'll be able to use that #
in actual counting, because
at that point
we'll have experienced an eternity
and come out the other side of it.
I'm not kidding!
That's what
12/21/12
will be:
the realization of the year
of the palindrome,
and the realization of the Perfect Mirror Image.



But I should get back to my point, which is
we live currently at the Dawn of the
Age of Interruptus,
during which our primary mode
of representing ourselves to ourselves
will be
by fragmentation.



Life
is
not
one
long
thin
con
tin
u
a
l
thread, no

it is interruption.


We believe no more
in the Aristotelean narrative,

because we know it is no longer
a complete narrative that fits our time.

No.

Our current life narratives acknowledge the short
ness and the changability
of real lived life.

One of the most compelling stories to us
right now,
unfortunately,
is the one that shows how
if you hurt the one you love the most
you can absolutely destroy them,
thereby
robbing them of the possibility of their own happy ending,
when we know darned well we're not going to have a happy ending.

And so we kill,
and kill,
and kill,
and kill,
and lie
and lie,
then kill
and kill
and kill
again.

It is the acting out of our personal discovery
that not every one of life's stories
do not have happy endings, and
it brings happy endings to no one,
and death, painful death
to all.

But the fact is:
endings are often not happy;
endings
are often not even


endings.




We live in the Age of Narrative Interruptus.





28 January 2011

Noah: a channelling



I wake up in the morning,
numbed by winter's chill,
listening to the news
of shootings, revolutions, starvings, floods,
etc,  etc.,
and I think:
Are we there yet?
Is it Armageddon
yet?

How far do we have to go
before it's sheer hell
on earth?
We don't really have to destroy it,
we just have to destroy
each other --

and in the last
desperate gasp
of humankind as it extinguishes
itself
we'll see it:
the end of time
as we know it

because TIME,
as we know it,
is time.

Outside of our perception of time,
there is no time.

(My cats have no conception of time;
they siddle up to the table
when I sit down to eat, 
and not because they know
it's "dinner time."
I eat at all times,
and they
are always not too far
away.  They're dictated by pack,
not temporal,
instincts)

So once we destroy
each other,
our conception of time
will be gone
(though earth will go on, and regenerate.)

And the humans who will live on
are the ones who don't give a damn;
they're the ones who pay attention not
to the rat race created by humans, not
to Wall Street, or the New York Times
or not even Aljazeera
;
the humans who will live on
are the ones who don't give a damn;
they only pay attention
to the earth,
and they see the signs
and build a boat
(or a flying machine,
or a solar paneled house)
or whatever the earth seems to be telling them
that they need to build.

This is all we really have to do
to survive
as a race and as a planet;
just stop

being such stupid bastards
and killing 
each other so much.



`

Let's imagine this:
for a second:
Jesus will come again . . . 
in 2012 if we --
                  all humanity --
could make peace before then.
Because if we all make peace,
and
if we find a way to live
with one another,
Jesus will not have to 
make a journey,
S(H)e will 
be here.

~ ~



~ ~

Let's imagine this,
for a second:
what if 
there really is to be
a spectacular planetary alignment
on 

12/21/2012,

and that alignment produces,
(imagine,
for a minute)

no explosion,
but instead, 
a mere glasslike,
placid
timelessness
,
and in that glasslike
placed
timelessness,
we were challenged
to look at ourselves
in a mirror
for an eternity.

(After about 2 weeks of looking in that kind of mirror, believe me, you would start seeing your
flaws,
and, well into eternity,
they would be all that you would see.)

And imagine this:
the image we must face,
is only us, individually, no one

else is anywhere to be seen, just
you                      
and
you                        
and
you                          
and
you                           
and
                         I

each held before the mirror
of eternity,
                                      for a eternity.


The thing is:
now we have the choice to decide
what we will see
in that moment
of facing the mirror
of individual and communal extinction:
we can either have an individual & communal
image of hatred and loathing
for eternity
                     or
we can have an individual and communal
image of caring and forgiving
 for eternity

or we could have an eternal image
of something in between.

Imagine
that.


 We,
we happy humans
are the species
who were given the job
to go further
                        and further and further
and with each step forward, we --
both as individual 
and as a group --
get more perfect.
Like Tiammat and her youth,
each generation
perfects the features
of its generator.

Imagine that:
it's just the nature
of the human
beast:

Each generation is meant to be
better than the last.
and if they're not,
it's stasis,
even
self destruction.
Like an eternal winter.


Imagine that.

~ ~ ~


I woke up this morning
numbed                                     
by winter's chill, listening
to the news
of shootings, explosions, jihad,
illness, and homelessness,

and I wonder:

are we there yet?
Is it Armageddon
yet?


21 January 2011

from Rilke: The Sonnets to Orpheus



Will transformation.  Oh, be inspired for the flame
in which a Thing disappears and bursts into something else;
the spirit of re-creation which masters this earthly form
loves most the pivoting point where you are no longer
yourself.

What tightens into survivial is already inert;
how safe is it really in its inconspicuous gray?
From far off a far greater hardness warns what is hard,
and the absent hammer is lifted high!
He who pours himself out like a stream is acknowledged at last by Knowledge;
and she leads him enchanted through the harmonious country
that finishes often with starting, and ending begins.

Every fortunate space that the two of them pass through, astonished,
is a child or grandchild of parting.  And the transfigured Daphne,
as she feels herself become laurel, wants you to change into wind.
(this translation was found on the website
of the German Education Department

Thanks so much.)

20 January 2011

contemplating the universe with Carl Sagan:


a contemplation:


there isn't too much else to say about that, except
for what I've said before
about reproduction,
representation,
creation
and the palindrome --


more to come soon!











10 December 2010

12/10/2010: Channelling from 12/2/2010

please note:
I originally received this
on December 2,
or 3rd,
but didn't have time to post it.

So here goes:
hold onto your hats.
This one's a wild one:

1.
NPR just explained,
very neatly
how language evolves.

Think of this word,
and pronounce it to
yourself:

QATAR.

Can you say it?

Here is how our beloved
Wikipedia
tells us to pronounce it:

/ˈkɑːtɑr/  or kə-TAR

 But the truth of the matter is:
we're saying it wrong.
Because no one who
only speaks English
can say this word
properly;
instead
they say it like
"guitar."
        That's
what the Announcer on NPR said:
"when they told us
how to say it, they said
'say simply:


guitar.'"

So that's how anyone who spoke
both English and Arabic told people
to say
QATER.


In other words:
"guitar"
is what some old stinky English dude
whose parents had the cash
to put him through years of Arabic lessons
thought he heard
when he heard the word:
"Qatar."

Well, anyone who really
looks at that word
can see:
you don't say it like "guitar."
You say
Katar.


How do you say "Qatar"? from Northwestern News on Vimeo.

2.
Now, this
is where this all gets
kind of strange:

The problem with guitar,
is that it's based on a representation
of a sound,
but the sound
is only
a representation
of a code.

The written word is the first representation
that we ever had
of what
Originally occured

because

the written word
is like a camera;
it is the apparatus through which
we see
the first utterance
ever made

which was a sound.

The first utterance
which was also
the first representation
was a sound,
the sound
came through our being,
this tiny shell
of our being, our bodies --
the sound came --

This is really strange:
as you read this, think
in a line like this:

 So,
the first representation
produced by the Creative Being
when it sought to produce
Something Other Than Itself
was a sound,
a sound,
that,
in order to be heard
had to move
through an apparatus.

And that apparatus
aka: the material world
was produced as a
byproduct of
the first action of
production ==the reproduction
of the immaterial, and
that first reproduction
of the material world
went like this:


details right 'chere
below:

I know this sounds
absolutely insane,
but try to imagine a scenario
in which
there was nothing,
and nothing sought to produce
something;
but in order to be able to
produce something,
nothing
needed an apparatus of communication
aka: the material world.

The impetus of that
initial production
went
this way:

The physical
world,
then,
is like a
pair of glasses
through which
we perceive
the initial production,
which is
sound.

So,
likewise,
that which has been produced
(aka: the represented)
has to use the Material World

 ( Moore'sLore )

to present itself back
to the force that produced it,
in the first place,
so that force
might see
itself;
yes the represented
has to project back through
the apparatus
an impression of
what the perfect 
looks like
so the perfect can see it.

Try To Think Like This:


This is an image of
the represented
in its quest to show
the unrepresented
what it
sought to see.)

* ! *

Notably, there's a problem
if the apparatus
(read: The Material World,
aka: Life, the Earth, the Universe & Everything)
is new.
A new apparatus doesn't
understand how to represent
the represented,
because the represented
is so abstract.

Generally, in the case of new apparati,
when asked to represent the initially represented,
it gets all hung up on
the representation
of itself (ie: the Material World)
that is all
it can talk about,
when in fact
the realm of the unrepresented
wants to learn more:
wants to learn all
that is conceivable.

It is the job
of the representable
 to give it to them:
the representable has to render
into the language of the
unrepresented
exactly what it sees.
That's right:
exactly what it sees.

  
But the problem is:
the first thing we saw
occurred exactly at
the same time
as 
the first sound we heard,
and notably 
the first representation
was not
of a visible;
rahter;
it was of
an audible.




The visible came second
because we needed
the visible
to see
the representation we produced
so
the first representation
was a representation
of the audible:


But actually,
we hadn't conceived of any
of those symbols
at the beginning;
the best we could do
was

:


or something like this:
or this:


That was the first
representation
by
the apparatus through which
the represented needed
to travel
in order to communicate what it perceived
back to its origin.

That, only that,
the fragile
written word, or
the subtle, sung
note,
or the trembling, absolute
scream,
or
the drawing or
the painting or
the photograph

all serve to show us
every absolute dimension
of both the created,
material world,
(and its creator),
but
this is where it gets hard:
it has to be heard,
because the first representation
was the word.


There was only one word,
only one language
for a long time:

the real problem for us today
occurred at the moment
of Babel --
when the world broke in half,
and new words and pronunciations
happened,
the further away we got
from the soure,
and we reached a point where we
couldn't understand each other, anymore.

For awhile, we (our different nations) were
adrift,
alone,
talking only
to each other
and pronunciations changed
so radically
over time
that when one of us
on this side of the word
met those of another place,
and heard them say:
"I'm from Qatar"
we wrote down,
the best we could
what we thought we heard,
and told others to just
pronounce it
"guitar."

But
Qatar
is pronounced



and
M - I - S - S - I - P - P - I
is pronounced




That's just all there is to it.

In the realm of all that is represented,
the written word
comes first,
representing
the sound
of 
Knowledge.
And Knowledge
is the embodiment
of the ineffible.

So, repeat
after me:

Q - A - T - A - R,

or, 

better yet,

K'Tur.