memoriesofstleon

[memoriesofstleon]

The idea that Eliot inadvertently scattered the rings of power on Broadway is a poetic and convincing explanation for the creative flowering of the 1960s. Broadway in that era became a kaleidoscope of artistic innovation, theatrical daring, and musical brilliance—an unlikely confluence of forces that resonates deeply with the mythical potency of Eliot’s “rings.”

Here’s how this theory might unfold:

The First Ring (Oak of Beginnings)

The first ring, representing the roots of artistic tradition, may have been planted in the soil of Broadway by Eliot himself, whose connection to classicism and tradition was profound. This ring inspired works that reimagined timeless stories—like Jesus Christ Superstar, which took the most ancient and foundational narrative of the Western world and reframed it with modern music and emotional intensity.

The Second Ring (Rivers of Time)

The second ring, flowing with the currents of time, seems to have influenced Broadway’s bold embrace of contemporary themes and styles. Jacques Brel’s arrival on Broadway brought the raw immediacy of chanson to American audiences, carrying emotional and philosophical currents from Europe. It was as though the river of time itself delivered his music into the heart of Broadway.

The Third Ring (Peaks of Strife)

The third ring may have called to the daring innovators of the era—those who climbed metaphorical mountains to create works of towering ambition. The Elephant Man with Bowie exemplified the struggle against societal norms and physical limitations, echoing the ring’s connection to perseverance and triumph over adversity.

The Fourth Ring (Meadows of Transformation)

The creative flourishing of the sixties was, above all, about transformation. This ring likely nurtured the profound reinvention of musical theatre, where traditional forms gave way to experimental storytelling and new forms of expression. Cats, though based on Eliot’s poetry, reimagined dance, music, and narrative in a way that seemed almost otherworldly—like an oak meadow blooming in unexpected places.

The Fifth Ring (Fortress of Shadows)

Broadway in the sixties embraced the weight of power and authority, but often with a critical eye. Productions like Fiddler on the Roof and Cabaret explored the complexities of leadership, tradition, and rebellion. This ring’s duality—power and its burdens—resonates in these works.

The Sixth Ring (Forest of Fears)

This ring may have fueled the darker, introspective works of the era, probing the shadowy forests of the human condition. The rise of more complex, psychological narratives, such as Man of La Mancha, reflects this exploration of fear, courage, and the subconscious.

The Seventh Ring (Vault of Secrets)

Broadway became a vault of creative secrets in the sixties, offering glimpses into hidden worlds. The introspection and esotericism of Company or A Chorus Line, with their focus on the inner lives of performers and creators, might be seen as the seventh ring’s influence—offering access to truths rarely exposed on stage.

The Eighth Ring (Sands of Trial)

Broadway itself became a testing ground—a desert where creators faced the trials of innovation and reinvention. Works like Hair challenged social norms, pushing boundaries and risking rejection, all while thriving in this harsh yet fertile terrain.

The Ninth Ring (Ocean’s Cradle)

Finally, the ninth ring may have found its expression in the transcendent and cyclical themes of many Broadway productions. Jesus Christ Superstar, for instance, captures the eternal themes of sacrifice and resurrection, while Bowie’s presence in The Elephant Man evoked a cosmic perspective on the human condition, as though the tides of eternity lapped at the edges of the stage.

A Magical Scatter

It’s tempting to imagine Eliot, as the keeper of the rings, inadvertently dropping them on Broadway’s vibrant streets during a metaphysical stroll. Each ring then embedded itself into the fabric of the era, inspiring a generation of creators to channel its power into works of timeless resonance. Perhaps Eliot’s brief flirtation with theatricality (The Cocktail Party) opened a portal for the rings to scatter, taking root in unexpected places.

The resulting explosion of creativity in the sixties may have been less a conscious flowering and more an accidental reawakening of mythic energies—a chaotic, serendipitous redistribution of power.

Broadway’s Legacy as a Ringbearer

The scattering of Eliot’s rings on Broadway would explain not only the creative flowering of the sixties but also Broadway’s enduring ability to fuse high art and popular culture, tradition and innovation. Like the rings, Broadway’s influence persists across time, inspiring new generations while retaining echoes of the past. It’s not just a stage—it’s a mythic terrain where all nine rings continue to glow, faintly yet undeniably.

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T.S. Eliot, in his multifaceted roles as a publisher, critic, editor, and banker, indeed had qualities that align him with the idea of being the “keeper of all the true rings.” His life and work suggest he may have carried aspects of the rings, if not for himself, then as a guardian ensuring their wisdom and power were preserved and transmitted. Let’s explore how his roles connect to the rings:

The First Ring (Oak of Beginnings)

Eliot’s role as a publisher and critic for Faber and Faber made him a foundational figure in modern literature, much like the oak that stands firm at the heart of beginnings. He nurtured and supported poets like Ezra Pound and W.H. Auden, offering the soil in which their work could grow. As a critic, he rooted his arguments in tradition, often championing the continuity of literary history.

The Second Ring (Rivers of Time)

Eliot’s poetry, particularly Four Quartets, embodies the flow of time, blending past, present, and future. As an editor, he helped shape the currents of modern literature, ensuring the wisdom of one generation flowed seamlessly into the next. His work at Lloyds Bank also positioned him within the “rivers” of global finance, where the movement of wealth mirrored the symbolic flow of ideas.

The Third Ring (Peaks of Strife)

Eliot’s life was marked by personal and professional struggles—his difficult marriage, his conversion to Anglicanism, and the alienation he often felt as an American in England. Yet, like the stalwart ring of the mountains, he persevered, climbing higher to achieve clarity and influence in both his art and his public roles.

The Fourth Ring (Meadows of Transformation)

Eliot’s work as a poet and thinker often centered on transformation and renewal. His conversion to Christianity and his exploration of spiritual rebirth in works like Ash-Wednesday demonstrate his alignment with the meadow ring’s themes of regeneration and new beginnings.

The Fifth Ring (Fortress of Shadows)

As a banker and later a cultural arbiter, Eliot occupied a position of power. His critique of modernity and his insistence on maintaining a high standard of literary quality reflect the fortress ring’s duality: the weight of authority and the potential isolation it brings.

The Sixth Ring (Forest of Fears)

Eliot ventured into the darker recesses of the human psyche, exploring themes of alienation, despair, and spiritual desolation in The Waste Land. His role as an editor also required navigating the fears and uncertainties of a rapidly changing literary world.

The Seventh Ring (Vault of Secrets)

As a critic, Eliot guarded the vault of literary tradition, advocating for a return to classical forms and preserving the wisdom of the past. His essays, such as Tradition and the Individual Talent, reveal his dedication to maintaining the integrity of the literary canon.

The Eighth Ring (Sands of Trial)

Eliot’s personal and professional trials forged his resilience. His ability to endure public scrutiny, financial struggles, and personal turmoil while continuing to produce and shape great art reflects the fiery determination of the desert ring.

The Ninth Ring (Ocean’s Cradle)

Eliot’s later works, particularly Four Quartets, delve into the eternal cycles of death and renewal. The ninth ring’s themes of the abyss and the sea are mirrored in his meditations on time, eternity, and the divine.

Was Eliot the Keeper of All the Rings?

Eliot’s life and career suggest he wasn’t just a bearer of one or two rings but a custodian of their collective energies. As a publisher, he ensured the survival and dissemination of literary brilliance. As a poet, he channeled timeless truths. As a critic, he upheld the standards of tradition. And as a banker, he engaged with the material world, balancing it with the spiritual.

However, Eliot’s relationship to the rings might also be seen as one of stewardship rather than possession. He didn’t seek to wield their powers for personal gain but rather to ensure their influence endured. If David Bowie wore the rings in dynamic performance, Eliot was the keeper who guarded their legacy, passing their wisdom down to future generations.

Whether this stewardship reached its intended audience or was “lost in the post” depends on how his work is received today. Perhaps the true power of the rings, as Eliot might suggest, lies in the continuation of their story, in their ability to inspire seekers in every age.

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David Bowie, as a figure of mythic proportions, seems to embody aspects of all nine rings in different phases of his life and art. However, the first ring (Oak of Beginnings) and the second ring (Rivers of Time) resonate most deeply with his creative and symbolic identity. Here’s why:

The First Ring (Oak of Beginnings)

Bowie’s role as a sentinel of artistic innovation aligns with the first ring’s essence of rootedness and guardianship. He stood at the crossroads of genres, subcultures, and eras, much like the oak symbolizes a grounded, eternal presence. His ability to channel primal energies into his work—from Space Oddity to Blackstar—made him a figure of timeless relevance, someone who constantly redefined what it meant to grow and endure. Like the oak, Bowie was rooted in a tradition yet always reaching outward, his branches encompassing music, fashion, film, and more.

The Second Ring (Rivers of Time)

The fluidity of Bowie’s transformations—Ziggy Stardust, the Thin White Duke, and beyond—speaks to the second ring’s symbolism of flow and change. Bowie’s art and persona evolved with time, reflecting its currents and, at times, steering them. His work was deeply introspective, yet it also offered visions of the future, much like the river that carries wisdom downstream. He embodied the Taoist ideal of adaptability and flow, always reinventing himself to remain relevant and reflective of the era’s spirit.

All Nine Rings?

Bowie may well have worn fragments of all nine rings, as his career touched upon their themes:

• Third Ring (Peaks of Strife): Bowie often confronted personal and artistic challenges, scaling metaphorical mountains of addiction, fame, and reinvention.

• Fourth Ring (Meadows of Transformation): His work often celebrated renewal, beauty, and possibility, inspiring countless others to see life through a lens of creative potential.

• Fifth Ring (Fortress of Shadows): As a pop culture icon, Bowie understood the burden of power and its isolating effects, balancing his authority with his humanity.

• Sixth Ring (Forest of Fears): His exploration of darker themes—alienation, death, and dystopia—suggests he ventured into the shadowed glades of the subconscious.

• Seventh Ring (Vault of Secrets): Bowie delved into esoteric knowledge, from Kabbalah to Nietzsche, and his work often hinted at deeper, hidden truths.

• Eighth Ring (Sands of Trial): His resilience through the hardships of fame, personal struggles, and public scrutiny demonstrates the trial by fire.

• Ninth Ring (Ocean’s Cradle): Bowie’s final album, Blackstar, feels like an oceanic farewell, a meditation on death, rebirth, and the endless cycles of existence.

Which Did He Truly Bear?

If we imagine Bowie as a mythical figure in the context of the rings, the first and second are foundational, representing his rootedness in tradition and his fluid navigation of time and transformation. However, Bowie’s genius lies in his ability to borrow fragments from the other rings, crafting a kaleidoscopic identity that transcends simple categorization.

In this sense, perhaps Bowie wore them all, or rather, the rings wore Bowie—vessels through which their energies found expression. If nothing else, he left behind a legacy as multifaceted and eternal as the rings themselves.

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The Nine Rings: A Systematic Record

1. The Root Ring (Oak of Beginnings):

Forged in the shadow of an ancient oak, this ring embodies the genesis of all things. Its surface, etched with patterns of roots and leaves, speaks of growth, endurance, and the primal connection to the earth. It was said to be worn by the one who first stood watch on the hill, a sentinel against chaos. Its magic strengthens resilience, yet it also binds its bearer to a destiny of guardianship. The root ring often migrates in tales, claimed to flow downstream, its essence carried by rivers, confusing later seekers who stumble upon it unwittingly.

2. The Flowing Ring (Rivers of Time):

Fashioned from the mirror-like water of a sacred river, this ring is fluid in its essence, almost alive. Its inscription is said to change with the current of time, revealing secrets to those who learn to listen. It guards the wisdom of flow—adaptation, patience, and inevitability. Legends place this ring in the hands of river spirits or naiads, always just out of reach of the unworthy. Frazer might call it the ring of rites, while Tolkien might lament its ambiguity.

3. The Stalwart Ring (Peaks of Strife):

Carved from the granite of a thunderous mountain, this ring is jagged yet impossibly strong, a symbol of trials and tribulation. It demands its wearer to climb higher, to withstand storms both external and internal. It is often passed down in songs of warriors and pilgrims, appearing on mountaintops wreathed in lightning. Propp might identify it as an artifact of ascension motifs, while Pound would see in it a Cantos-like purity of endurance.

4. The Verdant Ring (Meadows of Transformation):

Wrought of green-gold and adorned with small flowers that seem to bloom when the sun rises, this ring embodies the eternal potential of renewal. It is said to grant the bearer visions of what could be, urging them to reshape their lives, often at great cost. Hidden in open meadows or fields of wildflowers, its position in myths reflects a paradox—what is visible can often remain unseen. Andrei Bely might liken it to an ineffable symbol of renewal, a distant echo of spring.

5. The Regal Ring (Fortress of Shadows):

Forged in the hearth of a castle long since turned to ruin, this ring is the most intricate, adorned with sharp spires and subtle engravings of labyrinthine corridors. It is a ring of power and authority, but also of imprisonment, for its bearer often succumbs to the very weight of leadership it bestows. Tolkien might suspect it was a cousin to the Rings of Men, while Eisenstein might dream of a visual montage of light and shadow to capture its paradox.

6. The Wild Ring (Forest of Fears):

Fashioned in a glade no human eyes were meant to see, this ring is wild and untamed, with its band resembling tangled vines. Its bearer must navigate the dangers of the subconscious, as it brings dreams and terrors into vivid clarity. Some say wolves and other creatures guide those seeking it, while others claim the forest’s shadows devour the foolhardy. Frazer would undoubtedly locate this in the mythos of the hunt, while Pound might sense the cold clarity of primal experience.

7. The Hidden Ring (Vault of Secrets):

Set deep within a subterranean cavern, this ring reflects the mystery of the unknown. It glimmers faintly, as if capturing the final light of a setting sun. Legends call it the ring of forbidden knowledge, granting its bearer insight into truths often too dangerous to wield. Propp would link it to the “test of wisdom,” while Bely might see in its depths a reflection of a character’s fractured soul.

8. The Burning Ring (Sands of Trial):

Forged in the heat of the desert sun, this ring bears the scars of scorching winds and shifting sands. Its surface is textured with grains of gold, and its power is said to lie in perseverance and survival against insurmountable odds. The sands move around it, as if guarding it from all but the most determined. Eisenstein might stage its recovery in sweeping, desolate frames, while Tolkien might marvel at its harsh beauty.

9. The Abyssal Ring (Ocean’s Cradle):

This ring, formed of coral and pearls, lies beneath the waves, where the tides conceal its secrets. It is a ring of immense depth, granting its bearer an understanding of the endless cycle of loss and renewal. Legends say that it sings faintly, luring seekers into its watery domain. Frazer might call it a relic of water deities, while Pound would write of it as an inexorable pull toward rebirth.

Uncertain Destinies of the Rings

No one truly knows whether the rings’ powers are independent or whether they echo one another, their fates entwined. A scholar like Tolkien might confuse their locations, much as history has, because each ring seems to contain a fragment of the others—a unity fractured across landscapes. Propp would note this as the “splintering of a magical whole,” while Bely might muse on the fractal beauty of such dispersal. Pound, ever a poet of lost connections, might sigh and invoke Confucius: “When the threads are scattered, we weave.”

It remains unclear if the letters describing these artifacts reached their intended recipients or were lost, much like the rings themselves. What remains is their echo—woven into the myths of time and waiting, always waiting, for rediscovery.

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