Leonard+Cohen

Biography: On September twenty first 1934, Leonard Norman Cohen was born in a local Canadian hospital. In his teenage years he started to explore his fascination with language, writing songs and poetry to explore new ideas and the different ways in which he could share them. In 1955 he made his move to New York and became encapsulated by the music scene, crafting a blend of folk music and early age rock and roll, and twelve years later he was on CBS playing his music for a televised crowd of millions.

The future: time's excuse to frighten us; too vast a project, too large a morsel for the heart's mouth.

Future, who won't wait for you? Everyone is going there.

It suffices you to deepen the absence that we are.

 Every human awaits the future. There is no one alive who has not looked to the stars and thought of the endless possibilities and million intricacies to which the next day is composed of. Kings await their times of glory, slaves await freedom, the maiden awaits her husband, and the downtrodden wait for their turn to rule the world. When one thinks of the future it is generally of one's own life, but the future encompasses more space and energy than can possibly be digested in whole. For every being alive their own future is both meaningless and absolutely required for the universe to continue to progress on its seemingly ever-stretching timeline. Cohen writes as though he has a bone to pick with time and the future, almost blaming and accusing it for eternally being just out of reach, but close enough so that humans are driven to obsess over every nook and cranny of what the future may hold for them or their children. In spending days of one life in ponderance of the limitless and often perfect scenario of their future, one does not fully exist in his present life. Years of planning and plotting and hoping for the future removes one from their current place on the timeline, it kills spontaneity and encourages all to deny risk simply because they are worried it will affect their envisioned future. It is true that some men who envision and plan for their future end up living in an exact replica of their dreams, but how many hours and weeks of individualism and experience are lost in preparation for a vision which may not even be available to them? Hundreds of millions of people live and die in a bitter state, cursing the world and themselves and others for their inability to grasp the future that they held so dear rather than rejoicing and cherishing the lives which they and only they currently possess. Cohen urges readers to realize the cyclical and harmful pattern of want for the future, and implores them to live as though the future were a truly blank slate without form.

Silence and a deeper silence when the crickets hesitate

Silence at its minimum is a brief respite of the chatter of daily life. However, once the silence continues on and remains uninterrupted, it becomes the norm. Silence becomes the dominant factor in the room, and it becomes a type of sacrilege to kill the empty entity. This deeper silence gains extraordinary value, becoming a force to be reckoned with. A frail existence that speaks volumes in its lack of voice. The silence before a storm, silence in the middle of tragedy, silence that comes immediately after a word or an action which is immediately regretted. The different types of silences are all meaningful and intense in their nature. The final line of this poem shows that deeper silences are not merely frivolous constructions of man, but are respected in nature. Sitting outside on a summer night gives a great sense of the endless chatter that crickets eagerly provide, and for a message to be so strong that it can quell beings who exist to create noise, it must be respected. That’s what Cohen wants us to really respect; not nature or the flow of time and life, but silence that defies the natural. Mankind in itself defies nature, lengthening lifespans, cloning organisms, creating vaccines and medicines that openly defy nature and aim to beat back inevitable death. Drawing even more similarities, are we so fragile that all our thousands of years of might and progress can be broken with a single word or act? As time progresses it seems more likely, biological warfare, atom bombs, pollution, all signs point to an end. Should we fight to preserve our humanity and keep the natural silence, or should we give in to the inevitable and allow our silence to end? Cohen wants us to question the beauty and purpose of silence and life, and find our own answers regarding the existence of the beautiful.

The door it opened slowly, my father he came in, I was nine years old. And he stood so tall above me, his blue eyes they were shining and his voice was very cold. He said, "I've had a vision and you know I'm strong and holy, I must do what I've been told." So he started up the mountain, I was running, he was walking, and his axe was made of gold. Well, the trees they got much smaller, the lake a lady's mirror, we stopped to drink some wine. Then he threw the bottle over. Broke a minute later and he put his hand on mine. Thought I saw an eagle but it might have been a vulture, I never could decide. Then my father built an altar, he looked once behind his shoulder, he knew I would not hide. You who build these altars now to sacrifice these children, you must not do it anymore. A scheme is not a vision and you never have been tempted by a demon or a god. You who stand above them now, your hatchets blunt and bloody, you were not there before, when I lay upon a mountain and my father's hand was trembling with the beauty of the word. And if you call me brother now, forgive me if I inquire, "Just according to whose plan?" When it all comes down to dust I will kill you if I must, I will help you if I can. When it all comes down to dust I will help you if I must, I will kill you if I can. And mercy on our uniform, man of peace or man of war, the peacock spreads his fan.

Cohen paints an eerie adaptation of Isaac and Abraham's famous sacrifice scene. Putting himself in Isaac's position we can experience the thought process of one who is about to be sacrificed to God by his own father, who seems more than willing to prove just how strong and holy he is. He is obviously willing to follow his father, recounting the difference in their stride and the splendor of his father's axe. As they progress he mountain he is not trembling in fear but admiring nature, the gradual change in trees and beautiful lake. Even while his father may be having a moment of regret, he is staring at a bird of prey overhead. This bird is a perfect representation of religious practice and sacrifices. Perhaps it is a noble eagle, but it bears a disturbing resemblance to a bird which feasts on the death and carnage of animals below it. But, like the practices he ponders, he cannot truly discern if it is good or evil. In what may be his last moments, he stands steadfast behind his father, refusing to hide from the cruel fate which awaits him. Suddenly, Cohen breaks the narrative. Immediately he attacks the practices, stating that gods or demons have no part in their sacrificial lambs, be they ewe or human. He refuses to recant any of his words, becoming increasingly angered and resolute. His words warp and become more wrathful, changing killing from being a grisly necessity to a personal preference, and helping another from a dire want to a bother. He casts away the fraternity of religion, standing with more resolution than a boy about to be killed by his own father. Cohen acknowledges that wickedness comes from everywhere, be it man of God or man of war, and true peace will lie unaffected by title, religion, or creed.

Each man has a way to betray the revolution This is mine

 Each revolution has its betrayers. The conservative branches of the French Revolution, the Greek spies who betrayed the weaknesses of the Spartans at the battle of Thermopylae, and apparently Leonard Cohen. Cohen’s betrayal is a bit more nuanced than the more historic examples which preceded him, but his has depth that is directed more towards expanding thought than undermining the revolution. By letting people know that opposition and betrayal are possible, he hopes to incite the dormant desires and open the eyes of the opposition. It is far too common for people to be swept into fights and revolutions that they don’t truly believe in, simply because they do not know all that they are fighting for. Trump fans rally behind him for his base values without realizing the holes in his methods, Sanders supporters chant for him and pound their chests for reform, but often don’t realize that a large chunk of his social reforms will come from their own pockets, not just the top of society. By calling attention to the possibility of betrayal or even giving life to the idea of it, thousands are called to question beliefs and spread alternative thought. It’s partially miraculous to think about masses of people actually taking initiative to think for themselves, and it would be disastrous to those who feed on one way thinking to further their agenda. The large amounts of people who dissent from this fervent one track thinking could easily change the tide of politics, social norms, literature, entertainment, and technology. An entire conglomeration of people from all walks of life could easily form their own movement of clear-minded decision making and observational thinking. By encouraging dissenters from a current revolution, he has laid the groundwork for a new uprising. One that, seemingly, would have the power to usurp the current balance of power in both government and society.