Sappho, "Tell everyone" (tr. Mary Barnard)

We must bear witness to the atrocities of the present moment and stop them

I don't really know what else to say. I can't post every minute about the cult of authoritarian violence defining a host of political movements across the globe. I can pinpoint a few things which require outrage and action. To take just one, there's the notion that shooting missiles at random boats which cannot possibly reach the U.S. is somehow permissible. There is no proof any of the boats the military has been blowing up have any drugs:

Spencer Ackerman at Forever Wars did not mince words about the strikes carried out by the Trump administration: "Pete Hegseth And Adm. Mitch Bradley Belong In Prison" is the title of his December 1st post. If you have Fox or Newsmax watching relatives who would like to hear things other than propaganda covering for war criminals, send them to that post and make sure they see these passages:

The Washington Post reported on Friday that Hegseth ordered that there be no survivors on the first of what now stand at 22 strikes on boats off of Venezuelan waters that the Trump administration claims without evidence were smuggling drugs. I said at the time on TV that such a strike was murder. But the Post reveals that not only did Hegseth directly order the strike, but Adm. Mitch Bradley, then the commander of JSOC—the elite command throughout the War on Terror—ordered a "double-tap," a follow-on attack after a drone feed from above positively identified two survivors clinging to the remains of the boat. 

There are many layers to this crisis. The strikes are a blatant attempt at provoking a war with Venezuela or a coup against Nicolas Maduro, who rules over a country that just so happens to possess the world's largest oil reserves. And then the strikes operate under the invented pretext of combatting narcotrafficking while Trump plans on pardoning a convicted narcotrafficker and former right-wing president of Honduras in order to bolster the campaign of that country's conservative presidential candidate.

Why those passages? Because you can't let the bootlicking losers on TV say "they're all drug dealers and invaders" and not account for a single fact. They need to be reminded that lethal force requires high standards of proof of attempting something deadly, and the Trump administration has no evidence of anything whatsoever. It must be made clear that killing people who can't defend themselves is one of the greatest crimes one can commit. And all of this is to cheerlead a potential war which will greatly enrich those slashing healthcare and services for the needy, children, and elderly.

Sappho, "Tell everyone"

For over two decades, I have kept pen and paper journals. Many are beautiful commercial products. Some have stunning leather covers or sturdy wide-ruled pages. The one I use right now is fiery red with an original painting on it. White and black brushstrokes form calligraphic feathers and you might think the book is a bird.

I think I hate every single thing I have written in them. They are filled to the brim with whiny, out of control rants. Confused and contradictory, each entry swirls away from the other. Everyone else has failed me, or I have failed, or all of this was fated. – OK, I need to take a deep breath. Here's a list of breathing exercises to try and a program for self-improvement. Oh neat, I hadn't written anything for a bit, so this program is right underneath the last one I put down. –

(I might need to document, in a journal of course, the times I sat with coffee and reread my thoughts and wrote carefully and all was well.)

Doubts about journaling have plagued me for years. About 11 years ago, I saw a book of Sappho’s poems for $2 at a Half Price. It was nearly closing time and I didn't want to leave the store with nothing. Most of what I glanced at read like the fragment below. I went through the introduction, flipped a few pages, thought what could I possibly do with this? Yeah… what could I do? Then I quickly moved to the register.

I bought it less out of curiosity and more out of self-doubt. Sure, on my mind was a Paris Review interview with Kay Ryan where she spoke about using a tarot deck for daily writing practice. Cards as prompts, shuffled so that sometimes she'd have to write on the same one. Or never see some cards at all. And I know I thought I could do something similar with Sappho. Take the fragments and see what I could create for the blog. Maybe someone else reading the Mary Barnard translation would be curious.

In retrospect, the idea was fine but I did not know what I wanted. I told myself I wanted to write more, but I didn't understand what that meant. I, 11 years ago, believed journal entries could be the same as blog entries. What I wrote for myself privately seamlessly becoming what the public would treasure. Nothing works that way, even though Sappho herself gives the impression it does:

Tell everyone
Sappho (translation Mary Barnard)

Tell everyone

Now, today, I shall
sing beautifully for
my friends’ pleasure

This little fragment pulses with spontaneity. "Tell everyone"–you can imagine her shouting!–that she will sing. Maybe she's in the agora, buying what she needs for dinner. And people start pestering her. – When are you going to perform next? The last guy to sit on a rock and tell stories by firelight was dull. How long can it possibly take a shipwrecked sailor to get home? Another guy who had the rock complained that he was "canceled" because his jokes were too smart for the audience. – Or maybe she had an urge she couldn't suppress. The 4 and 5 year olds create an art gallery for mommy to walk through; the wide receiver plans his route so only he can make a spectacular catch; one of the greatest poets in the history of the world wants to grab a lyre and perform. Get me an audience, says this fragment, serving as an introduction. An introduction to what exactly?

"I shall / sing beautifully for / my friends' pleasure." Was this planned? Was she working all day and night on this for months?

I want to say it doesn't matter. All performances have a spontaneous quality. All are practiced for more or less.

What I see now is the difference between telling everyone she will sing but her friends will primarily enjoy it. A difference which recalls the problem of writing for oneself privately but also hoping it can shape a community.

Where does that leave me? I'm still at the bookstore in my mind, holding on to a $2 volume of Sappho's lyrics. Wondering aloud what I can do, thinking that "tell everyone" is a start.

A start of what? Some words on a blog which no one will read? Some scribbles in a paper journal which no one should read?

You "tell everyone" in order to get the friends you need. The private does turn into the public and vice versa. But it is a process more complicated than simply imagining either inspiration or mastery. Fragments have to be transformed into wholes. The wholes have to reflect upon and tie into each other. What I needed 11 years ago was a sense of what that commitment entailed. It could have happened by imagining what it is like to banter with the audience, play a song, and then converse before the next. Or what it is like to write just one sentence on a piece of paper and have it be yours.