Poem Review: Vanity
‘If you have seen four things, I have seen sixteen’, mocked my builder-client, in one of my discussions. Needless to say, I kept quiet and ended the meeting, knowing that there was no need to respond.
It was my last interaction with him. But my nightmares continued.
I wrote a short story to get it off my chest. I was overwhelmed by his panache. His vanity, albeit being a small fry in his business, was to prance like a stag and preen like a peacock — and add that slyness of fox to the mixture. I walked away from him, but it took few days to get such overwhelming vanity off my mind.
When somebody is vain, there are lines crossed and sense disappears. Many heroes and villains have fallen because vanity was the only chink in their armor.
In a different universe, I imagine a minimalist life — where I have only those things that I need to live, and not anything by name, luxury. Modesty is always tied with minimalism, and vanity is always tied with luxury. These are inseparable. But there is an extreme form of modesty, and that denies one’s own existence. Such a philosophy, called ‘nihilism’, considers that life itself is vain and that the end of life is the only positive element.
Vanity is the ultimate illusion. To explore the two shades of vanity — one of the materialistic nature, and the other one, which questions existence itself and says ‘existence is vanity’, is a tall order, but the poems demand that I step up.
Presenting ‘Allure’ by Elizabeth Urabe and ‘In Vain…’ by Majeed Beenteha bring a cocktail of verses that explore the deep questions hidden behind our lives, which we mask with our egos, and showcase to the world. Without much ado, let us dive into the poems.
Note: This is still a poem review and not a dissertation on philosophy.
Poem 1: ‘Allure’
Beware pomp’s allure.
The peacock’s panache is not
proof of probity.
Commentary on Poem 1:
Peacocks are considered to be majestic and proud. At a biological level, peacocks, like many males of different species, flash their tails and spread their plumes, in what is called a ‘dance’, to impress the female of the species. The dance and the plume are tools of courtship — the beginning of the act of progeny.
Yet, beyond the basic biological ingredient, there is a ‘human quotient’ in the act. The act of showing off — ‘vanity’.
On the surface, vanity is a superficial attribute — almost fleeting and flashy, but there is an undercurrent to the word. The poet brings out this alluring attribute in these short yet deep verses.
Beware pomp’s allure
The brief yet cautious words demand our attention. ‘Pomp’ is ceremonial and spectacular, and anything that is pomp is alluring. Watch the ‘Olympic games opening and closing ceremonies’ or the ‘march past on national days’ — you will agree that the show-off, while is celebratory, is also alluring.
The underlying need is vanity. Vanity needs splendor and show off. Vanity is never modest. It appeals to the baser senses — visual and aural, in particular. It is an extrinsic attribute. Since the fall for our senses to allure is inevitable, the caution just about sounds right.
“How come it can’t fly no better than a chicken?’ Milkman asked.
Too much tail. All that jewelry weighs it down. Like vanity. Can’t nobody fly with all that [stuff]. Wanna fly, you got to give up the [stuff] that weighs you down.’
― Toni Morrison, Song of Solomon
There it is, the real point of function over form. Peacock is a bird that has lot of feathers. Yet most of its tail feathers — also called plumes — are decorative in nature. These plumes, used in spectacular display, are the ingredients of the pomp.
Who has not fallen for a peacock’s magnificence? Yet, when it comes to the main function of the feather is to fly.
Feathers form wings. Wings are organs of flight. Yet, the plumes, albeit being gorgeous, are heavy. When a peacock tries to fly, it cannot reach the top of a ten feet tree. The plumes weigh them down.
Vanity is hollow, yet heavy. Vanity is attractive, yet abysmal. It can sink one, when it adorns their mental makeup, like the glittering yet heavy jewelry adorning the arms and neck of an Indian bride.
Vanity attracts baser souls. Relationships that vanity can build are very materialistic, because pomp is the allure.
The peacock’s panache is not
proof of probity.
Let us visit ‘pomp’ again. The pomp of a peacock is not only in its feathers but in its tuft as well. The tuft of feathers called ‘panache’, above its head, ornamental mostly, much like the tail.
‘Panache’ comes from the Latin word pinnaculum, which means “small wing” or “tuft of feathers.” When you decorate yourself with a flourish, have an elegant appearance, or do something with style, you are said to have panache. Panache is the crown, hence is a better representation than the tail of vanity.
Vain people are insecure underneath. Insecurity leads to layers — curtains of secrecy — that leads to lack of probity. The layers hid the truths or reality, and are normally decoys, and when peeled, the inside ( or the truth) is ugly. So vainglory is nothing but superficial splendor, with underlying layers hiding the reality.
There is a crossover of the ‘playful vanity’ that we see in the megalomaniacal and glamorous part of our society — like in cinema or politics and there is a more serious take on the vainglory of life itself, immersed in deep philosophy. Elizabeth’s poem has opened the door for deeper discussion on Nietzschean take on vanity. One of Nietzsche’s poems talks about the vanity of peacocks. I thought it apt to bring about an extended discussion of Elizabeth’s poem and Nietzsche’s.
“They learned their vanity from the sea: is the sea not
the peacock of peacocks?
Even before the ugliest of all buffaloes does it
spread its tail, never becoming tired of its lace-fan
of silver and silk.
Disdainfully the buffalo glances, its soul near to the
sand, closer still to the thicket, nearest, however, to
the swamp.
What is beauty, sea and peacock-splendor to it! This
parable I speak to poets.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, The Poetry of Friedrich Nietzsche
I dropped the buffalo somewhere, because it is a bit offensive as is obvious, and in our line of thought, buffaloes are those who do not understand vanity.
I now proceed further on the knotting of Elizabeth and Nietzsche. Read on.
Vanity is a cloak worn by poets — using words to putting sense behind the nonsense. Poems are vain representations of the hard-hitting truth that philosophy throws up, according to Nietzsche. The verses are the poets’ ‘panache’, and they flaunt them to make their point, don’t they?
Have you ever heard of a modest poet? Poets are peacocks. Yet, poets are like the sea — deep in meaning, yet alluring with ornamental words such as metaphors and rhymes. I am exploring the point that even in vainglory, poets stand out as a special case, where modesty is not the best policy. So, I will let that slide.
The counterpoint is, if you the reader, think that vanity is alluring, seeing your own reflection in the mirror, like the peacock, you might end up being narcissistic. Only poets can be narcissistic, Mr. Nietzsche. I will tell you why.
‘But… was Narcissus beautiful?’ the lake asked.
‘Who better than you to know that?’ the goddesses asked in wonder. ‘After all, it was by your banks that he knelt each day to contemplate himself!’
The lake was silent for some time. Finally, it said:
‘I weep for Narcissus, but I never noticed that Narcissus was beautiful. I weep because, each time he knelt beside my banks, I could see, in the depths of his eyes, my own beauty reflected.’
‘What a lovely story,’ the alchemist thought.”
― Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
I see your eyes, my dear friend; but in your eyes, I see my own reflection. While you think that I appreciate the beauty of your eyes, I love my own perfect image in your flawless eyes.
So when you look at a peacock (a vain person), are you another? That is vanity, mirrored. Vainglory mirrored. Narcissism, twice over.
The lake is the poet. The reader is Narcissus. The poet can sing paeans of the subject — its vainglory — but, in the verses, the poet is vanity, himself.
So , the lake or the sea is the peacock of peacocks, because it can be narcissistic or vainglorious itself , and hence, that is no proof of probity. What a paradox.
Let us get back to the buffaloes in the Nietzsche poem, now. Buffaloes are supposed to be insipid creatures. They don’t understand poetry. Yet, they resemble us — the people who live life as if there is no purpose, and for whom existence is a burden. Buffaloes live their day like nihilists.
The burden of life is too much to bear. Life is vainglorious. Death, my dear reader, is the ultimate truth and modesty. That is what Majeed Beenteha’s ‘In Vain’ is all about.
Poem 2: ‘In vain…’
In vain, we rise — we fall — from grace
wearing out our wits on this tainted stage
and before we learn our lines in full
the curtain falls — the footlights fade.
There are no applause — no curtain calls
only a earthly plot — to mark our plight.
And all the love we gave and craved
all the broken hearts we sought to mend
falls too short — comes too late.Alas, no prayers at Sunday church
no Hallelujahs — no cries for help
no amulets no talismans
could keep the dark chariot at bay.
Commentary on Poem 2:
Who appreciates life? The best tunes are melancholies, the best verses are philosophic and they come from suffering.
From the first breath till the last, life is a journey of suffering. The only truth and the liberation from this suffering is death. Yet, people pray to live and are afraid to die. That is ‘existential nihilism’ at its best.
Poet Beenteha calls out the fickleness and vainglory of life.
In vain, we rise — we fall — from grace
wearing out our wits on this tainted stage
and before we learn our lines in full
the curtain falls — the footlights fade.
We make efforts to ‘learn our lines’. If we have to strip life of all its vainglory, all one has to do is to exist. We create something called ‘purpose’, and then put efforts to achieve that purpose. The purpose could be ‘internal’ or ‘external’.
To achieve the purpose, we ‘rise and fall from grace’. Grace, like explored before, is poised vanity — vanity that makes us preen like peacocks. It is like walking with stilettoes on a thin fence, and in such a tip-toed walk, we rise and fall.
The thin fence is this ‘tainted stage’ of life, and the taints themselves are stains of colored views and stereotypical perspectives of this society. To survive this ‘tainted stage’, we have to be on our toes, ‘wearing our wits’ all the time.
Tell me this is not suffering. It is. This tiptoed walk on the tainted stage with our weary wits, and the fall and rise, and the walk again … I am tired, my friend, of this effort, and this pain.
“Suffering is one very long moment.”
― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis
Indeed, life is a journey of suffering. Few years later, with what we call as ‘maturity’ or ‘experience’, we must have ‘learnt our lines’, but for most of us, who are trying to get our act together, the only thing is remains is our late arrival to the party.
Death arrives much faster. The curtains of this flimsy stage have fallen, and the audience have long since left. So neither we get to perform our best, nor the audience get to see a great performance. This fickleness of life is what makes it vainglorious and meaningless.
Of the billions of humans who lived before, how many do we remember? Does that mean that these humans did not chase purpose in their lives? Then they somewhere lost their way, and ended up as ashes and dust.
There are no applause — no curtain calls
only a earthly plot — to mark our plight.
And all the love we gave and craved
all the broken hearts we sought to mend
falls too short — comes too late.
In our lives, when we seek external validation, we are embarking on a journey of quenching our thirst from other’s ponds, and so we can never have a thirst-free life. In many cases, like the billions of humans before, there is no external validation (no applause), and no credits (no curtain calls) at the end of your story. All we get, at the end of our life is an ‘earthly plot’, a 6' x 3' piece, beneath which we are buried.
All the human interactions have some expectations, and by expectations, we mean purpose, and by extension, there will be disappointments and delight. The vicissitudes in their lives bring out the worst in humans, thereby questioning the spirit behind such efforts to achieve any purpose.
In our interactions, we give and get love. We have hurt and broken a few hearts and down the line, we see to mend our relationships with people. Mending fences means letting go our ego, meaning vanity, and that comes into us tad too late.
We have seen how our vanity and purpose makes life itself vain. Such a thought, in its full form is Nihilism.
“Nihilism brings us down to earth by forcing us to confront our puniness, our failures and our finitude. It reminds us that we are not gods, and thus helps to put us back into our appropriate place.”
― John Marmysz, Cinematic Nihilism: Encounters, Confrontations, Overcomings
The human life is fractious and unpredictable. Human minds, society and other attributes are vain, if one strips them of all the frills. Such vanity disappears when we understand that our intellectualism or evolution is our making, and it plays up to our own vainglory.
We are like any other living being, who are born, live and die. Animals, on the other hand, don’t understand fame, fortune, education and currencies. All these, which humans underline as purpose, is their own creation, and if stripped, it is life at its basics amounts to nothing. We are nothing but children of chance and misery.
“There is an ancient story that King Midas hunted in the forest a long time for the wise Silenus, the companion of Dionysus, without capturing him. When Silenus at last fell into his hands, the king asked what was the best and most desirable of all things for man. Fixed and immovable, the demigod said not a word, till at last, urged by the king, he gave a shrill laugh and broke out into these words: ‘Oh, wretched ephemeral race, children of chance and misery, why do you compel me to tell you what it would be most expedient for you not to hear? What is best of all is utterly beyond your reach: not to be born, not to be, to be nothing. But the second best for you is — to die soon.”
― Friedrich Nietzsche, The Birth of Tragedy
Given the utter shoo-down of life, is it possible to then face the ultimate truth of life — death?
Alas, no prayers at Sunday church
no Hallelujahs — no cries for help
no amulets no talismans
could keep the dark chariot at bay.
The ‘dark chariot’ is upon all of us. It carries us to the ultimate truth — death, which means something to all of us.
Many of us are afraid to face death, yet it is the truth. So why are we so gung-ho about life, which is a series of chance and misery, while feel tragic and afraid of death, which is a singular event of certainty and liberation? ‘No prayers, songs of Hallejujah, cries for help, amulets or talisman’ can prevent our escape from death, exhorts the poet.
“Disneyland remains the central attraction of Southern California, but the graveyard remains our reality.”
― Charles Bukowski
The first Emperor of China, Qin Shi Huang, tried to search for the legendary Penglai mountain in search of elixir, but could not. In fact, he died mostly due to the very same concoction of mercury, which he drank to achieve mortality and ultimately poisoned his body.
Shi Huang’s life is an example of megalomania and vainglory, and serves well as an example of how existentialism can prove to be the ultimate illusion.
Not in vain:
Understanding vanity of life is not itself in vain. Vanity is a human element and has influenced human history further and further as it evolved. Yet, sometimes, we need doses of existentialism to make life colorful, keeping aside the extensive discussion of blandness of life ( which we had just now).
“Even nihilists put sugar in their coffee to make it more sweet.”
― Marty Rubin
Further if life was so disinteresting and bland, humanity will itself will come to an end. ‘Curiosity’, a key factor for survival and progress of the human society, will seek answers above and beyond this final understanding of life.
“There must be no final truths; only burning questions.”
― John Marmysz, The Nihilist: A Philosophical Novel
I thank poets Elizabeth Urabe and Majeed Beenteha for sharing an opportunity with me to explore ‘vanity’ through their exquisite verses.
~Ashok Subramanian
Copyrights of verses and quotes from verses belong to the poets and acknowledged.
