Bread, bread, bread, lock

Please enjoy some warm Bread while I talk about bread. (aka press play)

Now I'm going to respond to the poem, "Bread & Butter", written by Khaled Mattawa in the book, Tocqueville:

I once worked in a bread bakery called, "The Art of Bread". Having a background in baking (formerly bagels), I figured when I was hired that they would put me at the oven to monitor the rising, golden loaves. Before starting, I imagined myself standing in front of the window facing a rising sun that I could lasso to myself. I could feel its' warmth; the life energy of the Earth. 

When I finally went in, they had me make the dough. The warmth left my daydreams as I was faced with the reality of cold ingredients. Though...the life energy that I imagined was very present. After mixing the ingredients (flour, wheat, water, salt, sometimes a little honey) and adding the yeast, it came alive. I made so much that it covered two tables and the longer it sat naked before me, the larger it became, like a ballooning zeppelin about to take flight.

As I kneaded the dough in my hands, forming it into a bread-like shape, I knew that what I was doing was transforming one thing into another. I had become an alchemist. The one thing I was deprived of was the bread.

The only time I brought a loaf home was for a Christmas party with my family. I hollowed out the innards and filled it with spinach dip, surrounding it with store bought pita.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now I'm going to respond to the poem in a less obscure way. Time to analyze!

"What lies beyond sorrow belongs to feet, automobiles, and the distances they cover." This is the first line of the poem, "Bread & Butter". Beyond sorrow is a place that we must travel to. It is not something that comes to us, rather we must move forward (infinitely, Mattawa suggests) to find it. This implies that he plans on combining the concepts of sorrow and the pursuit of happiness with time (and time with inevitable death).

"It's the old argument about progress, how today's bakers deprive us of the dialectics of tooth and grain, earth and tongue, so that in kneading only the palm is happy meeting one of its own." The ingredients which the baker uses to make the dough is all organic and from the Earth. Human too, is organic. According to the Bible, we were made from dust. And so, when we come in contact with grain and wheat, in a way, we are touching out brothers of the ground.  By the time the bread it removed from the oven, it is no longer a product of the Earth. It becomes a product of human, given as sustenance. The life is missing from it, yet it gives life to the eater. Because the bakers are so close to the Earth, they must know something about the nature of mankind. They are like the philosophers of the world. (Or preachers?)

Mattawa continues his poem overtly reflecting on time and death.

"There is no escaping the white rose, the wish for shade on hot summer days." A yearning for relief. From life? In a way it reminds me of Jonah, who after preaching to the Ninevites complained about the death of the plant that gave him shade.

Jonah had gone out and sat down at a place east of the city. There he made himself a shelter, sat in its shade and waited to see what would happen to the city. ⁶ Then the Lord God provided a leafy plant and made it grow up over Jonah to give shade for his head to ease his discomfort, and Jonah was very happy about the plant. ⁷ But at dawn the next day God provided a worm, which chewed the plant so that it withered. ⁸ When the sun rose, God provided a scorching east wind, and the sun blazed on Jonah’s head so that he grew faint. He wanted to die, and said, “It would be better for me to die than to live.”

⁹ But God said to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry about the plant?”
“It is,” he said. “And I’m so angry I wish I were dead.” (Jonah 4:5-9)

"Some of us die before asking questions." is followed by 'we' turning to bakers and asking what they are deprived of. Since their answer has nothing to do with their powers to transform one thing into another, 'you' say "this is the stamp of distance, or that we live by the apotheosis of pleasures and sufferings". Which is to say, if the great philosophers of the world don't understand what they are doing, then what is the point? If that's the case, we're living only to experience a meaningless pendulum of up and downs. Mattawa believes that the people who feel that way want to die, but also want to be saved by the 'bakers'.

Mattawa then turns to locksmiths. If bakers do not have the answers, then surely those who open doors for a living can. A key is usually associated with answers. But as the author states, people are suspicious of them. They are "regularly tested by the authorities". Divorces deny them access to safes. This shows that we often feel too guarded to let the answers of a locksmith penetrate our most valuable asset: our hearts. This could be a result of brokenness or torn relationships.

"A glass of wine limits their clientele to people locked out of their cars." This draws back to the first line. Instead of looking for answers, instead of trying to move forward, people are getting drunk and accidentally locking themselves out of their cars, unable to leave the place of sorrow. Those without keys cannot move forward, but they can reflect on the change around them. They find a sort of freedom in embracing hopelessness. They can taste the salt in their butter- bitter with sweet. They are "lonely and content". 

Mattawa does not condemn those who do not take the same path as him. Although he walks- "I begin with warm ground under my feet", seeking for a place beyond sorrow, he watches those who do not walk. They seem lonely, but by accepting sorrow, they are actually content.

My analysis was a little obscure too but oh well. K BAI!