Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.
Traditionally, we might think of old age as a time to settle down; but the speaker thinks it's a good idea for old men to be "explorers" and to continue experiencing new things. Throughout "Burnt Norton" and "East Coker," the speaker has constantly implied that one of the worst forces in human life is the force of routine and habit, which makes us take things for granted and makes us feel bored and empty.
After saying that "Love is most nearly itself / When here and now cease to matter," the speaker says that "Here or there does not matter." So in other words, there's no use thinking of our lives as being here, there, now, or anywhere, because these categories are too limiting. The important thing is for us to find a way to "be still and still moving." It's not quite clear how this is possible, but it seems to have something to do with being spiritually connected to something that can change while still staying the same. If that sounds complicated or contradictory, just know that it's supposed to.
As we try to find a place of stillness that's also moving, we must always be looking for "a further union, a deeper communion," or some way of becoming more connected to the people and the natural world around us. Even though the modern world might be a place of "dark cold and empty desolation," we have to keep pushing for ways to bring ourselves together.
The final images of "the wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters / Of the petrel and the porpoise" point forward to the nautical imagery of "The Dry Salvages" (just trust us at this point). But they also close "East Coker" with the image of feeling like we're stranded out at sea, and they associate this image with a great cry, which is probably the cry of our own souls feeling adrift, and looking for a deeper connection to the world.
After leaving this final image in your mind, The speaker writes, "In my end is my beginning." The statement is a chiasmus of the opening line of "East Coker," which reads, "In my beginning is my end." Like a double-helix, these two lines wrap around each other and draw all of "East Coker" together as if we've read the entire thing in one instant, while also reading it over an entire lifetime. Every moment of our lives marks a beginning and an end, and if we are going to get over our modern spiritual sickness, we're going to have to completely rethink our relationship to time, and start seeing significance in every single moment, just like the speaker is trying to get us to do.
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