The Division Bell, The Viking Book of Poetry, and the Moments of Our Lives
Marooned on an island of experience within an ocean of moments
In the mid-1990s, I found myself immersed in a day that has since become a cherished memory—a fond reflection in time.
Seated in an old rocking chair on a warm early-summer day in our attic bedroom in our old house in Windsor, Pennsylvania, I spent hours enveloped in a harmonious blend of sounds from Pink Floyd's The Division Bell and evocative verses from The Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World: Volume II. There was a soft breeze blowing in through the large skylight window. The warm air, the music, and the poetry intertwined as my young mind rolled through various realms of contemplation on the music or the words or the feeling of being in that moment. I’d set the CD player to play the Pink Floyd album on repeat—though I can’t remember any more how many times I listened through the whole thing as the hours passed by.
It’s rather remarkable how some moments can become so deeply etched into our memories due to events, both subtle or shocking, that alter or impact our lives. I can’t say that listening to one Pink Floyd album repeatedly or reading poems from the likes of Henry David Thoreau, Edgar Allan Poe, or Walt Whitman drastically altered my life in any way, but I do think that the experience of being so deeply embedded in that present moment, in the depths of an experience of awe, still impacts me to this day.
The Division Bell
Released in 1994, The Division Bell marked Pink Floyd's fourteenth studio album and the second without founding member Roger Waters. The album delves into various themes like communication, the impacts of choice, and the complexities of human connection. Tracks like "High Hopes" reflect on nostalgia and the passage of time, while "Keep Talking" incorporates the voice of physicist Stephen Hawking, emphasizing the importance of language and connection (something shared here on The Cosmobiologist before: Language as a Transformative Technology and Talking to Aliens).
The instrumental "Marooned" stands out as a hauntingly beautiful piece, capturing maybe feelings of isolation and introspection (at least it does for me). Back in May of 2014, Pink Floyd celebrated the 20th anniversary of the release of The Division Bell, in part by releasing a new video to go along with “Marooned.” The video juxtaposes views of Earth from space and human environments within the ISS with video of the desolation of Pripyat, Ukraine—a city abandoned in time due to the Chernobyl disaster. The imagery, along with the music, speaks to the power of human achievement and our place in the cosmos while also reminding us of the destruction and loss and that can come with “progress at any cost” mindsets in regard to our technology and resources (not to mention “the cost of lies”).)
Pink Floyd's music certainly isn’t for everyone. Some people know them best from specific albums like Dark Side of the Moon or The Wall. Their music was some of the most impactful in my own life, as for me the tunes often transcend just the auditory experience and invite deeper thoughts and retrospection. Not to mention, since they have mattered so much to me, I have a variety of memories of their works (like my first sip of beer as a young kid when my uncle and father were watching The Wall with me, the time my father and I had the windows down and the music cranked on a drive in his old Volkswagen Jetta by the Susquehanna River while listening to Wish You Were Here, or the way that I often would have the Live at Pompeii concert video on in the background while working in the laboratory during my grad school years—and that I happen to be listening to while writing this).
The compositions of Pink Floyd have been likened to the works of poets and authors who explore the human condition, such as Thoreau and even translations of ancient Chinese poetry. The band's ability to weave intricate soundscapes that mirror the complexities of life has cemented their place in the annals of music history, including with albums like The Division Bell (which is probably less known to most who only glancingly have heard of Pink Floyd).
The Viking Book of Poetry
The Viking Book of Poetry of the English-Speaking World is a rather expansive anthology that offers a huge selection of poetic works spanning several centuries. First published as one book in 1941 by The Viking Press, the anthology was edited by Richard Aldington, a notable English writer and poet associated with the Imagist movement.
The anthology was later expanded into a two-volume set. The first volume, published in 1958, encompasses poetry from the early periods up to the Romantic era, featuring poets such as William Wordsworth. The second volume continues from the Romantic period to contemporary works of that time. You can now find both volumes on the Internet Archive.
Admittedly, for me as a young teen, what really drove me to pick up The Viking Book of Poetry from the school library wasn’t necessarily the content. I was in love with poetry by that point in my life—I was constantly writing poems of my own, exploring various works of poets and other writers, and had taken to scribbling lines from poetry, song, and film on my textbook covers and notes. But the main reason I took home that large book (they only had Volume II in my library) was because it was a large book. It had a lot of poems I wanted to read, but I also felt a sense of immensity in the reading just from the sheer size of the book—it was one of the largest in our school library. I didn’t even put together that the “Viking” name in the title came from the publisher until I started writing this piece.
Among the hundreds of pages in the book are poems and writings from William Wordsworth, Coleridge, Emerson, Thoreau, Longfellow, Edgar Allan Poe, Herman Melville, Whitman, Emily Dickinson, Robert Frost, and more. Sadly, like many anthologies or collections of great works of that time it focused almost solely on male authors from the U.S. and the U.K. (something rather common to do for that time period). Still, within those pages are some of my favorite poems, especially those of the American transcendentalists.
The Moments of Our Lives
I can’t recall the last time I listened to a single album on repeat for hours like I did that day nearly 30 years ago. With things like Spotify and YouTube and the huge range of digital options for music these days, it’s easier to jump around to different musical selections. Still, there can be some value in listening repeatedly to the same music. Much as re-reading great books is a fantastic way to really engage with the stories or the writing, listening to something on repeat can bring us into deeper levels of recognition of the music and can honestly just feel good.
And maybe sitting to read a book with music on repeat in the background that includes some lyrics won’t be for everyone. I personally most often read without any background noise at all (or maybe something instrumental). But sometimes we feel a certain vibe when we’re engaging with music or language or art or even in conversation in such a way that making connections between them all takes us someplace deeper and maybe even a little transcendent.
It’s kind of hard to believe at times that so many moments of days and years have now passed by on me. That day in the attic jamming Pink Floyd and reading poetry was now well over a quarter of a century ago. But I remember that moment in that day vividly—the connections of the music and the words and the feeling of the room and the breeze. That moment in my life stays with me, marooned on an island of experience within an ocean of moments that are slowly fading at different rates.
Thanks, as always, for joining me on this journey in The Cosmobiologist. I’m still floored by all of you who read and then share your own ideas and comments and inspirations with me. I’m always down for a fun conversation, online or in-person, so reach out if you’d like to suggest a meeting.
This piece was inspired by a previous post in A Cosmobiologist’s Dream from 2015. Something about this memory keeps coming back to me. Reminds me of John Prine’s lyrics in the song Paradise: “When I was a child my family would travel — down to Western Kentucky where my parents were born — and there's a backwards old town that's often remembered — so many times that my memories are worn”.