Thus the blessed ones feel it not themselves, But their joy is The saying and the talk of humans. Born restlessly, these soothe Their hearts, intimating afar, by the happiness of those on high. This the gods love; yet their ordinance . . .

Hölderlin, Draft of Patmos (Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 355). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.)

The concept of restlessness is explored in Hölderlin’s poem “Homecoming.” The poem reflects on the contrast between the vibrant, almost restless experience of returning and the contentment found in the familiar surroundings, suggesting a transformation from restlessness to peace. Here’s a relevant line from “Homecoming”:  “Having returned, he is no longer restless, feeling trapped in the familiar; now, home “holds me, a captive content.”  We can see, for instance, Odysseus longing for his homeland or Heraclitus warming himself at the simple stove saying, “even here, gods come to presence.”

“Homecoming” (“Heimkunft”) explores themes of satisfaction, peace, and the overcoming of restlessness through the journey of returning home. There is return to the familiar. The poem captures the moment of returning to one’s roots, where the familiarity of home brings a sense of satisfaction. The act of returning to known places, people, and landscapes provides a counterbalance to the restlessness experienced during one’s travels or life’s journey.

Hölderlin suggests that there’s a deep satisfaction in belonging to a place, a culture, or a community. This sense of belonging contrasts with the transient nature of life’s wanderings, offering a kind of fulfillment that comes from being where one feels they truly belong. The poem speaks to the peace that comes from re-engaging with the familiar. After the turmoil of being away, the homecoming is described with a sense of tranquility, where the individual can rest from the external world’s demands.

There’s an implication of inner peace achieved through this return. The poem reflects on how the once restless heart finds peace in the simplicity and beauty of home, suggesting that peace is not just external but also an internal state of mind cultivated by returning to one’s origins.

Hölderlin portrays the journey from restlessness to rest. The return home symbolizes an end to the search, the wandering, and the internal tumult. It’s not just physical rest but also a metaphorical cessation of the soul’s restlessness, where one can finally lay down the burdens of exploration and discovery.  The poem subtly acknowledges that the restlessness was part of a necessary journey. The experiences gathered during this period of unrest now enrich the peace of homecoming. It’s as if the restlessness has been integrated into the individual’s life, leading to a more profound sense of peace upon returning: “Having returned, he is no longer restless, feeling trapped in the familiar; now, home ‘holds me, a captive content.’” This line underscores the transformation from restlessness to a contented state. The idea of being “trapped” in the familiar is reframed positively; it’s a captivity of choice, where one finds contentment in the embrace of home.  The poem also deals with the dual nature of homecoming – it’s both an end and a new beginning, where peace is found not in stasis but in the calm after the storm of one’s life’s journey.  “Homecoming” by Hölderlin speaks to the human condition of seeking peace and satisfaction through the metaphor of returning home. It highlights how restlessness can be a phase of life that ultimately leads to a deeper, more meaningful peace and satisfaction when one reconciles with their origins or finds their place in the world.

The “way” Friedrich Hölderlin wrote “Homecoming” (“Heimkunft”) significantly aids in expressing its themes of satisfaction, peace, and the overcoming of restlessness. Hölderlin’s style and structure contribute to the poem’s thematic depth.

Hölderlin uses rich, evocative imagery to contrast the journey with the homecoming. Descriptions of landscapes, the sea, and the sky during the homecoming are not just visual but also carry emotional weight, painting a picture of tranquility and belonging that resonates with the theme of peace. Elements like the river or the homeland are symbolic of life’s journey and the return to one’s essence or origin, reinforcing the idea of finding peace through returning to one’s roots.

The poem’s structure often mimics the flow of a river or the natural rhythm of walking or returning home. This fluidity in form can be seen as an expression of the journey from restlessness to peace, where the poem’s rhythm slows down, mirroring the calming effect of homecoming. Hölderlin contrasts the chaotic, adventurous life away from home with the serene, structured life of homecoming, which is reflected in the poem’s transitions from more dynamic to more static imagery or from complex to simpler syntax.

Hölderlin’s use of lyrical language reflects the beauty and allure of home, making the theme of satisfaction palpable. The tone shifts from one of longing or unrest to one of contentment and acceptance, embodying the emotional journey the poem describes. Through his choice of words, Hölderlin conveys deep emotional states, moving from the angst or excitement of being away to the profound peace of returning. This emotional shift is key to understanding the theme of overcoming restlessness.

Hölderlin often interweaves philosophical and mythological elements into his work. In “Homecoming,” he might allude to ancient tales of return or the philosophical idea of finding one’s place in the cosmos. This adds layers to the theme, suggesting that the personal journey of returning home has universal implications.  Hölderlin’s own life, marked by his travels and eventual return to Germany, influences the poem’s authenticity. The reader senses a genuine exploration of these themes because Hölderlin writes from a place of personal understanding.

Nature in Hölderlin’s poetry often reflects human emotions or states of being (like when I say “I’m boiling mad”). In “Homecoming,” the landscapes and natural elements echo the internal peace and satisfaction found in returning home, providing a natural backdrop that enhances the poem’s themes. By weaving these stylistic and structural elements into “Homecoming,” Hölderlin not only tells but also enacts the journey from restlessness to peace, making the reader feel the transition alongside the poet. This integration of form and content underscores the poem’s exploration of its central themes, making Hölderlin’s method of expression integral to the poem’s message.

Okay, let’s begin to connect Holderlin’s poetry to Greek thought.

I recall going for a one-hour car trip with a Philosophy professor/friend to a Kierkegaard conference.  He had the radio turned off in his car and focused on driving rather than talking.  I remember feeling the painful stretching out of time in a combination of boredom and angst as I endured to car ride.  Professor Martin Heidegger and Swiss Psychiatrist Medard Boss had said a few decades earlier that:

“Our patients force us to see the human being in his essential ground because the modem ‘neuroses of boredom and meaninglessness’ can no longer be drowned out by glossing over or covering up particular symptoms of illness. If one treats those symptoms only, then another symptom will emerge again and again … They no longer see meaning in their life and … they have become intolerably bored (Heidegger and Boss, Zollikon Seminar, 160-161)”

Hölderlin too suffered such restlessness, not because he was mentally ill and there was something wrong with him, but because he was exemplary of the human condition (Dasein).  Heidegger thought this insight into the human condition by Hölderlin made originary restlessness conspicuous and malleable.  Boredom/restlessness lies below the surface of what we are, and from time to time is released to the surface in varying degrees.  Heidegger says

 Human Dasein is indeed always attuned, if only in the manner of a bad or disgruntled mood, or in the peculiar manner of that mood that is familiar to us as the dull, vacuous, and dreary lack of attunement, familiar to us in the everyday realm as that which we express in the statement “I’m not up for anything”—the primordial form of boredom, which for its part can unfold into a fundamental attunement. Because Dasein—insofar as it is—is attuned, for this reason an attunement can in each case be changed into a different one only by way of a counter-attunement. And only a fundamental attunement is capable of bringing about a change of attunement from the ground up—that is, a transformation of Dasein that amounts to a complete recreating of its exposure to beings, and thereby to a recoining of beyng. (Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 193). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition).

The German word for boredom, Langeweile, literally means the “long while”; kurzweilig machen, to make for entertainment or diversion, literally means to make “short [in] while.”  Boredom is thus thought as time, a stretching out of time.  The ambiguity is boredom is thought of in terms of human restlessness, and the character of beings whereby I list “boringness” along with plot, setting, and characters as traits of the book though I know the next person may not experience the book to be boring.

How do we distract ourselves?  For the philosopher, we saw the beauty of Being called the thinker to press on toward it.  The goal is to proceed toward and more fully uncover what is and always was, and this is done against the tide of common opinion and the lack of pre-existing conceptual frameworks.  We gave the example of more fully uncovering what Justice is and always was regarding the wonder and standstill when LGBTQ+ rights puts everyday understanding of marriage into accusation.  In this regard Ethics is first Philosophy.  Specifically, the thinker attempts to pose their question in a more original way.  So,

The theory of Ideas. That characterizes Plato’s philosophy. From the term itself, it would appear that something completely novel is emerging here. But that is mere appearance. What is new is that the old intention of the previous philosophy is taken up more radically. Socrates: asking for the essence, concept. τί ἐστιν; This or that being, “What is it?” Plato: what is a being at all? Asking for the essence of beings as beings, asking for Being! (Heidegger, Martin. Basic Concepts of Ancient Philosophy (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 79). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.)

The philosopher proceeds from the wonder of her guiding perspective not being able to appropriate something, and so her conceptual framework needs to be deconstructed and reconstructed in a new way (e.g., the traditional definition of marriage to accommodate LGBTQ+ rights).  By contrast, the poet receives a flash of insight/inspiration revealing a hidden truth about life and works to reconstruct this gift as a poem. Just as the question of the to-be-thought implicates the being of the thinker, the poem also implicates the being of the poet.  The two are intimately related.  In the letter to his friend Böhlendorff of December 4, 180,  Hölderlin suggests the poet rejoices at “a new truth, [which is] a better view of that which lies over and around us.”  We talked previously of the model of friendship (philo-sophy) where a boy in love in a toxic relationship doesn’t have the distance his friends do to see what is really going on in the relationship.  Hölderlin asks what does the poet do?  “The poet harnesses the lightning flashes of the God, compelling them into the word, and places this lightning-charged word into the language of his people. (62)” 

But, Heidegger called for the end of Philosophy.  Traditionally Philosophical Dasein, if it is maintained over the whole of one’s life by being understood as the proper one, is a kind of deathlessness, athanatizein, since the comportment that relates to and hence apprehends (the way in which the philosopher is-there with) the eternal, the unchanging, must itself be unchanging, must not stray but tarry with the unchanging, and hence in a sense is deathless.  Heidegger summarizes “Therein resides the peculiar tendency of the accommodation of the temporality of human Dasein to the eternity of the world … This is the extreme position to which the Greeks carried human Dasein (PS, 122).”  By contrast, Holderlin’s question was not what (philosopher, factory worker, etc.) but who we are?  “We exclude ourselves from the poetic as the fundamental configuration of historical Dasein if we do not, through the poetry, first let the question of “who” we are become a question in our Dasein: one that we actually pose—that is, sustain—throughout our entire short lifetime.”  Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (pp. 96-97). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.

There is something painful in Holderlin’s calling as a poet that he hides from his mother.  Heidegger says

Hölderlin’s letters to his mother belong more than his other letters to his work, even though, or indeed because, he really is silent in them concerning his work and lovingly protects his mother in his reticence. Even in those places where he writes expressly concerning himself and his endeavors, he always speaks in a manner that is accessible and comprehensible to his mother. Indeed, Hölderlin unfolds the greatest intimacy precisely where he speaks to her from an immense distance toward his “terrible” calling. Where he follows his mother with an assent that is in each case genuine within its respective limits, he also indeed refuses himself to her in the end, gently yet firmly. The portion of the letter we have quoted documents this clearly in its beginning and its ending. Thus precisely these letters to his mother in their lucid intimacy bear witness to the immense need that attends his calling and to what is truly heroic in his Dasein, because they veil these things in a singular tenderness.  (Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 66). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.)

Exploring this terribleness in Holderlin, Heidegger writes:

Yet if poetry and the poetic are thus identical with the fundamental occurrence of the historical Dasein of human beings—at once harmless and terrible—and if poetry is a telling—language, how is it then with language? We cannot yet take up this question here. But one thing is certain: If poetry is at once the most harmless thing and something terrible, and thus ambivalent and ambiguous, then poetic telling must also be such.  The human being can take this harmlessness to be the only serious thing. Yet he can also misuse what is terrible as the mere play of psychic excesses…In a real philosophical lecture, for example, the decisive issue is not really what is said directly, but what is kept silent in this saying.  Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 75). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.

Is the turbulence in Holderlin’s poetry just a sign of his restlessness, or a key to something more essential?

“And for Hölderlin only a sign of his restlessness, that lack of any constancy which, as is well known, is indeed characteristic of human beings who are nervous and high-strung? (84).”  To be sure, “Asia, Asia Minor, Ionia, Greece: It was the entire ancient world from which its soul—its restless, magnificent and superior soul, thinking in the direction of being as a whole; that is, its kingly soul—hoped for fulfillment” (p. 273).”

Heidegger notes regarding the turbulence of Holderlin’s poem:

The poem is now already no longer a bland text with some correspondingly flat ‘meaning’ attached to it; rather, this configuring of language is in itself a turbulence that tears us away somewhere. Not gradually; rather, we are torn away suddenly and abruptly right at the beginning: “Not those . . . ,” with this movement coming to a mysterious rest in the final lines… Yet to where does this turbulence tear us? Into the speaking whose configuring of language is the poem. What kind of speaking is that? Who is speaking to whom, with whom, and about what? We are torn into a dialogue that brings language to language, and not as something arbitrary or incidental, but as the mandate given to the girl, to Germania: “O name you daughter . . .”; more properly speaking, the issue concerns naming and saying. Is this turbulence that tears us into the dialogue something other than the dialogue itself, or are they one and the same? Is this turbulence the poetizing we are seeking? In that case, the poetizing is not something we happen upon lying present before us. We shall not grasp the turbulence of the dialogue if we merely gape at it, rather than entering into its movement. But how are we to accomplish this? Our first task will be simply to begin to move, to abandon our peaceful position of spectator. This position must become unsettled so that our reading can no longer maintain the neutral position of uniformly reading off a text. Such a stance will already be unsettled if we now read along the lines of the hints provided and heed the beginnings of the various strophes…We said earlier (p. 44ff.) that the inner movement of the poetic saying in the poem “Germania” is a turbulence that tears us away to a determinate determinate location. The poet establishes this locale in a sound and robust word in the first three lines of the poem “Mnemosyne” that we have already mentioned several times (IV, 225):  We are a sign that is not read Without pain we are and have almost Lost our tongue in foreign parts. Dasein has become foreign to its historical essence, its mission and mandate. Alienated from itself, it remains without vocation, indeterminable and hence “unread.” Its vocation remains absent because the fundamental attunement of standing within the essential conflicts is without attuning force, without pain—that is, without the fundamental form of knowing that belongs to spirit, whence “Without pain we are.” Where there is no attuning opening up the clefts of beyng, there too there is no need of having to name and say, hence: ‘we have almost lost our tongue in foreign parts.’ We are “a sign,” a beckoning that has ossified, that has been forgotten, as it were, by the gods, “a sign” for which interpreters must first be nurtured again.  Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 81-82; 185). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.

This can be unfolded in relation to how Sophocles wrote conveyed his message, not just the content of the plays in the familiar form/content procedure of analyzing poetry.  Heidegger cites Hölderlin’s “Remarks on Oedipus” says “Because such human beings stand under violent conditions, their language, too, speaks in a more violent order, almost in the manner of Furies.”  This tells us about “how” Sophocles wrote to convey ideas, not just “what” he wrote.  Heidegger comments emphatically “So far as a proper interpretation is concerned, this word replaces everything that has been written to this day in explanation of Sophocles’ tragedy (74).”

Hölderlin’s statement in “Remarks on Oedipus” provides insight into the style and intensity of Sophocles’ dramatic writing, particularly in how the language and structure of his plays reflect the turbulent inner and outer conditions of his characters. In Sophocles’ “Oedipus Rex,” the dialogue often escalates dramatically, mirroring the rising tension of Oedipus’s fate. For instance, during the confrontation between Oedipus and Tiresias in the first act, the language becomes sharp and accusatory. Tiresias’s words, “You are the land’s pollution,” use stark, direct language that reflects the violent conditions Hölderlin describes. This isn’t just what is said but how it’s said, with a palpable sense of urgency and confrontation.

Sophocles frequently employs stichomythia, a rapid exchange of single lines between characters, which heightens the emotional and dramatic intensity. In “Oedipus Rex,” when Oedipus and Jocasta discuss the prophecies, their dialogue becomes a stichomythic battle of words, each line more loaded with tension than the last. This technique mirrors the “violent order” of language, where the back-and-forth resembles a verbal duel, escalating the dramatic effect.

The language in Sophocles’ plays often carries layers of irony and repetition, which serve to emphasize the fated, inescapable doom of the characters. In “Oedipus Rex,” Oedipus repeatedly curses the murderer of Laius, not knowing he is cursing himself. This repetition in language reflects the relentless fate driving the narrative, akin to the relentless pursuit by the Furies in Greek mythology, underlining the violent condition of Oedipus’s life.

An important strategy is the Choral Interludes. The chorus in Sophocles’ plays often uses language that conveys profound emotional states or philosophical insights, providing a contrast or amplification to the main action. In “Antigone,” the choral odes lament the human condition, using a language that is both poetic and intense, reflecting the broader, often violent, context in which the characters live and die. The chorus’s language can be seen as embodying Hölderlin’s observation of the “manner of Furies” through its intensity and sometimes foreboding nature.

Sophocles masterfully uses dramatic irony where the audience knows more than the characters, and this knowledge is reflected in how characters speak. In “Oedipus Rex,” when Oedipus declares he will avenge Laius and cleanse Thebes, his words carry an additional layer of meaning known only to the audience, making the language both a tool of revelation and concealment, echoing the violent, fate-driven narrative.

Hölderlin’s observation suggests that Sophocles’ writing isn’t merely about conveying a story but about capturing the essence of human conflict and fate through a linguistic style that matches the internal and external turmoil of his characters. This approach makes the plays not just narratives but exemplary experiences of language in action, reflecting the chaotic, often violent, human condition.

The principles Hölderlin discusses regarding the style of “Oedipus Rex” can also be observed in Sophocles’ “Antigone,” where the language and structure reflect the characters’ internal conflicts and the external pressures they face.  The confrontation between Antigone and Creon is charged with intense language that reflects their opposing views and the personal stakes involved. Antigone’s declaration, “I did not think your edicts strong enough to overrule the unwritten, unalterable laws of God and heaven,” uses language that is both defiant and spiritually resonant, highlighting the violent clash between state law and divine law.

In “Antigone,” the stichomythic (note above in Oedipus) exchanges between characters, particularly in scenes of high tension like those between Creon and Haemon, serve to amplify the emotional and ideological conflict. Their dialogue becomes a rapid-fire exchange where each line is a counterpunch to the other’s argument, embodying the “violent order” of language Hölderlin mentions. For instance, when Haemon tries to persuade Creon, their exchange escalates, with each line more pointed and challenging.

Throughout “Antigone,” the theme of burial rights versus state decrees is repeated, with Antigone’s act of burying her brother Polynices becoming the central act of defiance. The irony lies in the fact that her noble act leads to her tragic end, much like Oedipus’s curse on the murderer. Creon’s repeated assertions of his authority juxtaposed with his eventual realization of his folly (“Fate has brought all my pride to a thought of dust!”) highlight the violent repercussions of his decisions, mirroring the relentless pursuit of justice or vengeance by the Furies.

As I said above, the chorus in “Antigone” not only comments on the action but also reflects the broader human condition through their odes. Their language often invokes a sense of impending doom, fate, and the conflict between human law and divine law. For instance, the ode on the “Wonders of Man” contrasts human ingenuity with the hubris that leads to downfall, using language that’s both celebratory and ominous, embodying the turbulent conditions of the play.

The use of dramatic irony in “Antigone” is impressive, especially in how characters speak without full knowledge of the consequences of their words. When Creon declares that Polynices will not be buried, he seals his own fate unknowingly, as this act leads to the death of his son and wife. This irony is reflected in the language where characters’ words have meanings they do not yet grasp, much like the unpredictable and often violent twists of fate.

In “Antigone,” Sophocles uses language not just to tell the story but to immerse the audience in the moral, ethical, and existential crises faced by the characters, much as Hölderlin suggests. The play’s dialogue, with its intensity, irony, and repetition, captures the essence of conflict and the human struggle against the dictates of fate and power, embodying the “violent order” of language in dramatic form. 

In “Hyperion’s song of Fate,” Hölderlin notes how man is fated to lead a restless life and disappear into Time, pointing to the human condition that humans go from the absorption of youth to the listless tedium of old age, reflecting Apollo’s saying in Homer.

I noted previously Hölderlin says in Hyperion’s Song of Fate the following:

“Radiant the gods’ mild breezes / Gently play on you / As the girl artist’s fingers / On holy strings. – Fateless the Heavenly breathe / Like an unweaned infant asleep; / Chastely preserved / In modest bud / For even their minds / Are in flower/And their blissful eyes / Eternally tranquil gazey / Etemally clear. – But we are fated / to find no foothold, no rest, / And suffering mortals / Dwindle and fall/ Headlong from one/ Hour to the next Hurled like water / From ledge to ledge / Downward for years to the vague abyss (Holderlin’s “Hyperion’s Song of Fate” quoted in Martin Heidegger and Eugen Fink, Heraclitus Seminar, 101)” … [Heidegger and Fink commenting on the passage say] “the gods wander without destiny, their spirit eternally in bloom, while humans lead a restless life and fall into the cataract of time and disappear.” (Martin Heidegger and Eugen Fink, Heraclitus Seminar, 101)

Man is fated to go from the fire of youth to the listless tedium of old age.  Where is Hölderlin getting this from?  Aristotle speaks of the epitome of human life as Theoria, the contemplative life, which is godliness/deathlessness: athanatizein.  Deathlessness doesn’t mean immortality, since the Greeks thought everyone were immortal, but rather childlike absorption in life like the eternally youthful ambrosia eating gods among even the old.  By contrast Apollo spoke of most humans in the passage Hölderlin bases his Hyperion’s Song of Fate on: “Mortals, who are as wretched as the leaves on the trees, flourishing at first, enjoying the fruits of the earth, but then, their hearts no longer absorbed in life (Akerioi), vanishing (my translation slightly modifying Krell, 1999, 105).”  We have Apollo contrasting between the fire and absorption of youth and the listless tedium of old age.  In Epistles 1.8 Horace describes the lethargic illness of boredom as a trait of old age.  One of the great high dramas of ancient thought is the contrast between the Socrates who wanted to die to avoid the tragedy of old age such as senility in Xenophon, and the resolute death of Socrates in Plato and the impaled just man of the Republic, Socrates offering a prayer of thanksgiving to Asclepius for the pharmakon (poison/cure).

The thinker is a tranquil absorbed youth even in old age.  Heidegger comments regarding thinker Heraclitus’s Fragment 52: “The Geschick of being, a child that plays …the being of beings (Heidegger, 1991b, 113).”  Restlessness being brought to repose with a calm mind is what Heidegger argues as the purpose the Greeks had for philosophy.  Aristotle clarified only a beast, or a god, delights in solitude (Politics 1253a28), and so we picture the general tragic character of the masses (hoi polloi) apart from their distractions as cabin fever.  Lucretius for instance speaks of the restless lives of the Roman rich pursued relentlessly by anxiety and boredom.  Regarding Aristotle’s Theoria, Heidegger comments “[T]he ‘useful’ as ‘what makes someone whole,’ that is, what makes the human being at home with himself … In Greek Theoria is pure repose, the highest form of energeia, the highest manner of putting-oneself into-work without regard for all machinations. It is the letting come to presence of presencing itself. (Heidegger, 2001b, 160-61).”

Some of the “tragic” in Sophocles’ thought is based on this restlessness of the human condition, and we can see this in the technique of the manner of presentation guiding the theme.   Sophocles employs these linguistic and dramatic techniques to convey the theme of the restlessness of the human condition across his works, particularly in how he crafts dialogue, uses structure, and leverages irony. In “Ajax,” the protagonist’s internal turmoil and the external conflicts with his peers are reflected in his restless dialogue. Ajax’s monologue after his humiliation by Odysseus is filled with self-doubt, anger, and a feverish need for action, showcasing his inner unrest through the tumultuous flow of his language. This restlessness is not just in what he says but how he says it, with a pace and intensity that mirror his disturbed state of mind.

In “Electra,” the stichomythic technique mentioned above exchanges between Electra and Clytemnestra, or Electra and Chrysothemis, illustrate not just conflict but the restless nature of human emotions and desires. Electra’s relentless pursuit of vengeance against her mother is conveyed through sharp, relentless dialogue that captures her psychological agitation and the unending cycle of vengeance and retribution in human affairs.

The repetition of themes and situations in Sophocles’ plays often underscores the restlessness of human fate and the inability to escape one’s destiny. In “Oedipus at Colonus,” the repetition of Oedipus’s fate and the prophecy that he will bring both curse and blessing to Colonus echoes the theme of the human condition trapped in cycles of suffering and resolution. This cyclical language and plot structure reflect the restlessness of life where peace often leads back to conflict.

The choruses in Sophocles’ plays frequently meditate on the human condition, often highlighting its restless, transient nature. As I said in “Antigone,” the chorus reflects on the wonders of man and his achievements but also on the inevitable downfall due to hubris or fate. These odes are not static; they move through different emotional states, from awe to lamentation, capturing the restless spirit of human existence.

Dramatic irony in Sophocles often serves to underline the restlessness of human life by showing how characters’ actions lead them into situations they cannot foresee or control. In “Oedipus Rex,” Oedipus’s restless quest for truth leads to his own downfall, illustrating how human life is marked by a continuous movement towards understanding, only to find instability or tragedy. The language used in these moments, filled with unintended meanings and revelations, reflects the perpetual flux and uncertainty of life.

Sophocles’ characters often undergo significant internal changes or conflicts, which are expressed through their language. In “Philoctetes,” the titular character’s isolation and pain are conveyed through his volatile and passionate speeches, reflecting not just physical but emotional restlessness. His eventual change of heart from revenge to reconciliation shows the human capacity for transformation, yet it’s always against a backdrop of inherent restlessness.

Through these techniques, Sophocles not only tells stories but also philosophically explores the human condition, capturing inherent restlessness through the very texture of his language, the structure of his narratives, and the psychological depth of his characters. This approach makes the audience feel the ongoing, often turbulent, journey of human life, resonating with Hölderlin’s observation about the conditions influencing human expression.

For the ancients this was personified in the great hero Achilles.  What does time have to do with necessity as fate?  The luster is destined or fated to fade off beings and so the tragedy of life is being addicted to beings so we go from one distraction until time rubs off its radiance to the next distraction. Look at all the people today addicted to their smartphones and social media with a constant wave of the news.  Nietzsche even said in his time people were addicted to news.  We are destined or fated to wander restless and unsatisfied like a shade in Hades.  To die for the Greeks meant to go to Hades and to wander about in a pointless and meaningless boring to and fro.  Homer says in the Odyssey Achilles would rather work as a poor day laborer than rule in Hades, the same Achilles who Plutarch talks of as having a nauseous boredom (alus nautiodes) when there was nothing to do.  Imagine what a “jointure of beings” pall this vision of death would have cast over life for the Greeks!  As I said Heidegger and Fink cite Hölderlin that the tranquil lives of the gods who are forever in bloom contrast with mortals who are restless and tragic (Heidegger, 1997b).

Hölderlin’s poetic style reflects this theme.  Hölderlin’s use of language is often charged with emotion, reflecting the inner turmoil and the search for meaning or peace in a world perceived as chaotic or divine. In poems like “Hyperion’s Song of Fate,” the contrast between the serene existence of the gods and the restless, tragic fate of humans is stark. The poem’s language shifts from calm to tumultuous, mirroring the human condition’s restlessness.  Hölderlin’s later poetry, often termed “hymns” by Heidegger, sometimes appears fragmented or syntactically disrupted, which can be seen as a poetic embodiment of the human mind’s restlessness or the breakdown of coherent thought under emotional strain. Poems like “Mnemosyne” use this style to convey a sense of searching, of grappling with memory and identity in a world that feels both familiar and alien.

Hölderlin often uses repetition to delve into themes of longing, return, and the human struggle with time and change. In “Patmos,” the repetition of phrases and themes reflects a yearning for unity with the divine, but also the perpetual restlessness of human existence, caught between the temporal and the eternal. This repetition mimics the cyclical nature of human experience, constantly revisiting themes of loss, hope, and spiritual quest.

Hölderlin intertwines human restlessness with the natural and mythological world. In “The Rhine,” the river becomes a symbol of life’s journey, its movement through landscapes and history mirroring human life’s flow, its beauty, and its inevitable descent into the unknown. The imagery of nature, often in flux or in harmony, underscores human restlessness within the broader, eternal context.

Hölderlin’s poetry often hovers between classical forms and romantic expression, reflecting an internal and external conflict or restlessness. His earlier works, like “Bread and Wine,” show a balance between the order of antiquity and the romantic yearning for transcendence, embodying the tension and restlessness of the modern human spirit seeking its place in the cosmos.

Hölderlin’s poetry often explores the sublime, where the confrontation with something vast or divine leads to both awe and existential unrest. In “As on a Holiday,” the poet’s encounter with the divine leads to a complex emotional response where joy and terror coexist, reflecting the human condition’s inherent restlessness in the face of the infinite.

His poetry is not just aesthetic but philosophical, questioning the nature of being, time, and the relationship between humans and the divine. This philosophical restlessness is evident in poems like “In lovely blueness,” where the poet muses on the divine in nature, leading to reflections on human existence’s transient and seeking nature.

His poetry, like Sophocles’ drama, uses language not only to express but to explore the restlessness of the human condition through a combination of form, theme, and content. His work captures the eternal human quest for meaning, belonging, and peace amidst a world of constant change and existential uncertainty.

A Hölderlin poem is a language unto itself, and “Germania” is itself about language: “the mandate given to the girl, to Germania: “O name you daughter . . .”; more properly speaking, the issue concerns naming and saying. (81-2).  We directly encounter the turbulence of the presentation and seek to understand: “We shall not grasp the turbulence of the dialogue if we merely gape at it, rather than entering into its movement. But how are we to accomplish this? Our first task will be simply to begin to move, to abandon our peaceful position of spectator. (82)”  A similar strategy is employed by the ancient poet Sophocles.  Hölderlin writes: “Because such human beings stand under violent conditions, their language, too, speaks in a more violent order, almost in the manner of Furies. Hölderlin’s “Remarks on Oedipus” (V, 180).  The struggle over every word is what points to the poetic rather than the philosopher (90).

If we are talking about the abandonment of the gods and waiting on new gods, what are “gods” for Holderlin?  Heidegger comments “For Hölderlin the gods are ‘nothing other than time’ (92).”  There are two kinds of time:

Which time is long? It is “the time” of the everyday and the time on the peaks, yet each in a different way. Everyday time is “long” [lang] in boredom [Langeweile], where time holds us in limbo and in so doing leaves us empty, where we hurriedly and indiscriminately reach for whatever makes the long time pass or makes for diversion [kurzweilig macht].[4] The time of the peaks is long, because on the peaks reigns a persistent waiting for and awaiting the event [Ereignis], not boredom or diversion. There is no passing or even killing of time there, but a struggle for the duration and fullness of time that is preserved in awaiting. The time on the peaks is essentially long; for a making ready for the true that shall once come to pass [sich ereignen] does not happen overnight or to order, but consumes many human lives and even ‘generations.’ This ‘long time’ remains closed to all those who are overcome with boredom and have no intimation of their own boringness. This long time, however, “once” lets the true—the becoming manifest of beyng—come to pass. (Cf. “Germania,” line 93: “Something true must once appear.”)  (Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 93). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.)

Nietzsche too talked about two kinds of time in a letter to Overbeck: the sorrowful cabin fever of people in a rainy cottage vs Nietzsche’s joyous time of creativity in the cottage crafting his Untimely Meditation.  For the poet it is the flash of inspiration/insight that must then meticulously brought to word is that in which the poet experiences who she is:

Yet if it is the task allotted to the poetry to bring this lightning flash, shrouded in the word, into the Dasein of the people… But now we see: Not only do we not know who we are, but we must in the end actually partake in the poetry in order to first create the necessary condition for it becoming the time in which we are then able to experience in the first place who we are.  (Heidegger, Martin. Hölderlin’s Hymns: “Germania” and “The Rhine” (Studies in Continental Thought) (p. 96). Indiana University Press. Kindle Edition.)

There is a duality of being in the present with (i) “being in the moment” of absorption as one end of the spectrum like being lost in a thriller novel or attuned to the palm tree swaying in the wing, to (ii) lack of absorption in the dragging on and stretching out of time (Langeweile, boredom).  Nietzsche gives the example of the once free bird banging itself against its cage, but Nietzsche overcomes this eternal return of the same tragedy with joyful eternal return of the same difference: e.g., as I said in a letter to Overbeck (which has drawn a lot of ink from Nietzsche scholars) where Nietzsche presents the image of people with cabin fever at a rainy cottage while he by contrast is delighted there in writing one of his Untimely Meditations (Nietzsche, 1975: 11.3 382). The time of the Greek thinkers was a transition time when boredom was coming to be internalized.  We don’t for instance just internally experience boredom while reading the book, but boringness is actually experienced as a temporal and actual feature of the book itself like plot, characters setting, boringness. 

To see this in the inward turn in the history of Being, Heidegger gives the central example of boredom (Heidegger, 2001).  Boredom is a conspicuous way that our moods don’t simply run their course in our inner lives for a hermetically sealed “I,” but are a way we are ek-static: “in the world / outside of ourselves.”  I may experience boringness to be a trait of a book like plot and setting, though the book need not appear to the next person as boring.  Toohey (2004) notes what is surprising is for the Greeks boredom initially seemed to lack the fundamental internal component moods are assumed to have today:  Aristophanes in the Archarnians has one character say “I groan, I yawn, I stretch, I fart, I don’t know what to do.  I write, I pull at my hair, I figure things out as I look to the country, longing for peace.”  He does not name that he is bored but describes the symptoms. We also see this oddity in Euripides’ Medea, and Pindar said too lengthy an exposition might lead to boredom, but again the symptoms are named, not boredom.  Similarly, Iliad 24. 403 and Euripides Iphigeneia in Aulis both lack a word for boredom.  As the inward turn proceeded in the history of Being, the outward cancer of this horror loci took up residence inside of us, which is how Heidegger interprets Nietzsche’s Will to Power text regarding “this most uncanny/unhomely of all guests (Nietzsche 1967, vol. XV, p. 141).”