Blake seeks to provide the Golden String which can lead us through the labyrinth of our experience or his own poetry.

Monday, December 10, 2012


Ian Marshall and Danah Zohar wrote a book, Who's Afraid of Schrodinger's Cat, to explain the concepts of the new physics in the context of classical science. This quote crosses the dividing line between physics and cosmology:

"In Quantum Field Theory, things existing in the universe are conceived of as patterns of dynamic energy. The ground state of energy in the universe, the lowest possible state, is known as the quantum vacuum. It is called a vacuum because it cannot be measured directly; it is empty of "things." When we try to perceive the vacuum directly we are confronted with a "void", a background without features that therefore seems to be empty. In fact the vacuum is filled with every potentiality of everything in the universe.
"...Unseen and not directly measurable, the vacuum exerts a subtle push on the surface of existence, like water pushing on things immersed in it . ... It is as though all surface things are in constant interaction with a tenuous background of evanescent reality. ...The universe is not "filled" with the vacuum. Rather it is "written on" it or emerges out of it."

__________________________Illustration for Milton's Paradise Lost

The following passages scattered through Blake's writing give the impression that the 'weeping babe' or 'weeping infant' is man in his potential form holding all possibilities. Like the Quantum Vacuum mentioned above the babe does not contain but 'allows the patterns of dynamic energy' to take form. The babe cannot be measured or defined but awaits 'fill[ing] with every potentiality of everything in the universe.' Into this babe we become immersed and become expressed through his potential.

The Pickering Manuscript, The Crystal Cabinet, (E 488)
"I strove to sieze the inmost Form
With ardor fierce & hands of flame
But burst the Crystal Cabinet
And like a Weeping Babe became

A weeping Babe upon the wild
And Weeping Woman pale reclind
And in the outward air again
I filld with woes the passing Wind"

Jerusalem, Plate 62, (E 214)
"And Jehovah stood in the Gates of the Victim, & he appeared
A weeping Infant in the Gates of Birth in the midst of Heaven"

Jerusalem, Plate 63, (E 214)
"The Cities & Villages of Albion became Rock & Sand Unhumanized
The Druid Sons of Albion & the Heavens a Void around unfathomable
No Human Form but Sexual & a little weeping Infant pale reflected
Multitudinous in the Looking Glass of Enitharmon, on all sides
Around in the clouds of the Female, on Albions Cliffs of the Dead"

Jerusalem, Plate 81, (E 239)
"Humanity is become
A weeping Infant in ruind lovely Jerusalems folding Cloud:
In Heaven Love begets Love! but Fear is the Parent of Earthly
Plate 82, (E 239)
"the mighty Hyle is become a weeping infant;
Soon shall the Spectres of the Dead follow my weaving threads."
Plate 82, (E 240)
"She drew aside her Veil from Mam-Tor to Dovedale
Discovering her own perfect beauty to the Daughters of Albion
And Hyle a winding Worm beneath [her Loom upon the scales.
Hyle was become a winding Worm:] & not a weeping Infant.
Trembling & pitying she screamd & fled upon the wind:
Hyle was a winding Worm and herself perfect in beauty:
The desarts tremble at his wrath: they shrink themselves in fear."

Four Zoas, PAGE 27, (E 317)
"And I commanded the Great deep to hide her in his hand
Till she became a little weeping Infant a span long
I carried her in my bosom as a man carries a lamb
I loved her I gave her all my soul & my delight
I hid her in soft gardens & in secret bowers of Summer
Weaving mazes of delight along the sunny Paradise
Inextricable labyrinths, She bore me sons & daughters
And they have taken her away & hid her from my sight"

Thel, PLATE 4, (E 6)
"Then Thel astonish'd view'd the Worm upon its dewy bed.

Art thou a Worm? image of weakness. art thou but a Worm?
I see thee like an infant wrapped in the Lillys leaf:
Ah weep not little voice, thou can'st not speak. but thou can'st
Is this a Worm? I see thee lay helpless & naked: weeping,
And none to answer, none to cherish thee with mothers smiles.

The Clod of Clay heard the Worms voice, & raisd her pitying head;
She bowd over the weeping infant, and her life exhal'd
In milky fondness, then on Thel she fix'd her humble eyes.

O beauty of the vales of Har. we live not for ourselves,
Thou seest me the meanest thing, and so I am indeed;
My bosom of itself is cold. and of itself is dark,"

Four Zoas, PAGE 35, (E 324)
"The deep lifts up his rugged head
And lost in infinite hum[m]ing wings vanishes with a cry
The living voice is ever living in its inmost joy

Arise you little glancing wings & sing your infant joy
Arise & drink your bliss
For every thing that lives is holy for the source of life
Descends to be a weeping babe
For the Earthworm renews the moisture of the sandy plain"


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