Experts In Ourselves Poem by gershon hepner

How disappointing to discover’
that we aren’t experts in ourselves,
and know less than our friends and lovers
and learned books upon our shelves
about the way we choose to live,
because we fiddle with the data,
while always willing to forgive
ourselves, excusing our errata.
In this way we remain deluded
about our power to control
our lives, while we keep deeply-rooted
delusions, like, “I know my goal.”

Inspired by Lisa Schillinger’s review of Rivka Gakens “Atmospheric Disturbances” (“Who Do You Love, ” NYT Book review, July 13,2008) :
And yet, like the tormented narrator of Ford Madox Ford’s novel “The Good Soldier” — who longed to believe that his marriage was sound and that his wife was “a goodly apple, ” and who began to regard other people as “incalculable simulacra amidst smoke wreaths” — after learning of her infidelity, Leo is haunted by doubts. The difference here is that Leo has betrayed himself, pre-emptively robbing himself of the possession he most values to protect himself against its loss. “Who can ever really know about anyone’s happiness, even one’s own? ” he rationalizes. A true scientist, he argues, must be willing to accept “unwelcome and confounding data, ” to “make discoveries that shatter one’s most deeply held beliefs.” Maybe, he adds, “we discover that a man is not an expert on himself.” Whether or not this is true, it’s certain that a hologram can’t cheat on you.


7/14/08