Quick overview of current thoughts.
-Why is there not a strong Christian Left in the United States?
-What would a anthopology of Christianity look like? (See Gil Anidjar's article, On an Anthopology of Christianity)
- I would like to see a study on Christian subjectivities in the Age of Secularism. Someone write this, please.
- Could the Religious Right (read neoconservative) be pursuing, paradoxically, the same ends as the secular state, depite the fact that they advocate a stronger religious presence in the public sphere? What does this actually mean?
- How can Christian subjectivites be re-established after the surrender of Christian traditions and Christian reasoning to the modern secular state? How do these discourses lead us to the same ends? Can they be reclaimed?
Current readings:
Why I am not a Secularist by William E. Connolly
Secularism, Hermeneutics, and Empire - The Politics of Islamic Reformation by Saba Mahmood
Foucault on Freedom and Truth by Charles Taylor
Secularism by Gil Anidjar
Is Critique Secular by Talal Asad (On the Immanent Frame blog)
The Ethical Soundscape - Cassette Sermons and Islamic Counterpublics by Charles Hirschkind
Formations of the Secular - Christianity, Islam, Modernity by Talal Asad
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
What does Mubarak and Prayer have in common?
This past year has been an interesting year both in personal growth and in world events. The increasing violent rhetoric of the far right, neoconservative Tea Party and all of the anti-immigrant, anti-muslim xenophobic behavior, the shooting of Gabrielle Giffords, the Mosque controversy, the collapse of Lebanon's governenment - and all the twists and turns taking place at this moment, the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia and the ousting of Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, the student protests in Yemen, and finally the most recent Egyptian protests now covering a significant portion of the U.S.'s larger media outlets. So what is a person to do? How are we to act?
It seems to me that in a world (and if you look hard enough, they are there and these people do care, even if they are unaware of the implications of what they do) where Christian activism is growing, that there is a need for these groups of religiously sympathetic people to inform and reform how the church approaches politics and activism. Do we show solidarity with our Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and Athiest brothers and sisters fighting for their right to represent themselves how they best see fit en lieu of American interests. Or do we let dogmatic, divisive politicians and pundits determine how faith is lived out in a world that seems to be fighting more of an economic battle than a ideological one. Is faith alone in God enought to make a difference in this world? Does HE/SHE ask for more?
I wonder these things as the conversation the in the coffee shop is just audible enough for me to hear the discussions taking place about faith and God's grace and the news screen in front of me sends minute by minute updates about how people are taking their fate into their own hands and God only knows how this will end up panning out.
as for all of the frustration that builds in attempting to articulate myself, it should be apparent in the level of incoherency present in this entry.
It seems to me that in a world (and if you look hard enough, they are there and these people do care, even if they are unaware of the implications of what they do) where Christian activism is growing, that there is a need for these groups of religiously sympathetic people to inform and reform how the church approaches politics and activism. Do we show solidarity with our Muslim, Christian, Jewish, and Athiest brothers and sisters fighting for their right to represent themselves how they best see fit en lieu of American interests. Or do we let dogmatic, divisive politicians and pundits determine how faith is lived out in a world that seems to be fighting more of an economic battle than a ideological one. Is faith alone in God enought to make a difference in this world? Does HE/SHE ask for more?
I wonder these things as the conversation the in the coffee shop is just audible enough for me to hear the discussions taking place about faith and God's grace and the news screen in front of me sends minute by minute updates about how people are taking their fate into their own hands and God only knows how this will end up panning out.
as for all of the frustration that builds in attempting to articulate myself, it should be apparent in the level of incoherency present in this entry.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Possibly the most incoherent thing I have said yet
It is rather late and I cannot sleep. I do not think that it is not due to the noise of friends and roommates two rooms over laughing and enjoying their time together, or the coffee I drank 3 hours ago, nor do I think it is the fact that my mind is processing the pages of books that I just read and attempted to comprehend. I think, rather, that this sleeplessness, this existential mental-wandering, is derived more from a spiritual state of unrest as I attempt to understand the world around me, the beliefs I grew up with (and have interpreted and reinterpreted), and the role of the self in a society (that I do not wish to embrace but yet cannot and will not abandon in sheer dismissal). There are a few things that have been rather important to my thoughts lately, whether they make this entry cogent or continuous with my previous statements does not really interest me.
Now, I have never been an art critic and I have probably dismissed more art as pointless than I have appreciated, but their are two artists (but I will only briefly discuss one) that evoke certain emotional dispositions within me that I feel are worth mentioning: Andrew Wyeth and Salvador Dali. I know very little of these two artists and their work, but I have had memorable experiences with seeing both of their exhibits at the High Museum here in Atlanta.
Recently, upon visiting the Dali exhibit, two things srtuck me as important. First, the term "nuclear mysticism" and its understanding by Dali as an expression of the existence of God through nuclear physics and Catholicism. Second, the "discontinuity of matter" in which Dali expresses that in drawing a table artists are more aptly portraying the world by drawing said table as composed of millions of tiny flies as opposed to drawing it as one continuous piece of matter.
Is it possible that God exists in these two statements? Is it absurd to ask what these two statements tell us about our modern sensibilities of rational enquirey, actual lived experience, and the secular/religious binary? Now, I don't really know what I am trying to achieve in this journal entry, nor do am I really aware of the possiblity of answers that could emerge. I am more interested in the profound understanding of God espoused by Dali in light of what I would view as possibly constested understandings of art, modernity, and artistic interpretations of society, culture, and God.
In the end, I am no art critic and I am no theologian. But I am interested in what we can learn from both.
Now, I have never been an art critic and I have probably dismissed more art as pointless than I have appreciated, but their are two artists (but I will only briefly discuss one) that evoke certain emotional dispositions within me that I feel are worth mentioning: Andrew Wyeth and Salvador Dali. I know very little of these two artists and their work, but I have had memorable experiences with seeing both of their exhibits at the High Museum here in Atlanta.
Recently, upon visiting the Dali exhibit, two things srtuck me as important. First, the term "nuclear mysticism" and its understanding by Dali as an expression of the existence of God through nuclear physics and Catholicism. Second, the "discontinuity of matter" in which Dali expresses that in drawing a table artists are more aptly portraying the world by drawing said table as composed of millions of tiny flies as opposed to drawing it as one continuous piece of matter.
Is it possible that God exists in these two statements? Is it absurd to ask what these two statements tell us about our modern sensibilities of rational enquirey, actual lived experience, and the secular/religious binary? Now, I don't really know what I am trying to achieve in this journal entry, nor do am I really aware of the possiblity of answers that could emerge. I am more interested in the profound understanding of God espoused by Dali in light of what I would view as possibly constested understandings of art, modernity, and artistic interpretations of society, culture, and God.
In the end, I am no art critic and I am no theologian. But I am interested in what we can learn from both.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Just cause you feel it, doesn't mean its there
"Great are the works of the Lord; they are pondered by all who delight in them."
-Psalm 111:2
Its a difficult situation to be in. The space between two spaces. I have started to wonder if this in-limbo-position is precisely where I am supposed to find myself. I think that between two traditions, and I don't mean traditions in the sense that is typically understood, lies the truth. To borrow from MacIntyre, a tradition is a present reality rooted in a past action that is teleological precisely because it has a future. I take this to be the state of mental dispositions that limit and simultaneously de-limit all aspects of action/knowledge rooted in an authorizing power. It's discursive.
It is here that I find myself. In between the in-between. In every sense of the word, I believe myself to be a skeptic. Possibly a mystic as well. God, whose words and actions I ponder in indirect ways, the abstraction of being, I think, presides in this space. This space between traditions acting and partaking in aspects of the two, but also existing precisely in the traditional interaction, this space between two modes of thought.
I call this intercultural spirituality. Please excuse the term. I am aware of the history of colonization that has authorized the present usage of 'culture' or 'civilization' in its exploits, but I use the term for the lack of a better one. Indeed, this 'intercultural spirituality' is a mystical point to be in, but nonetheless, I think this is precisely where I am to be. Moving between and to the limits of discursive knowledge, I find myself skeptical of the types of discourse that authorize our daily thoughts and actions, knowing full well that I am inherently limited. Perhaps in this limitation I am free. Remember, this is neither logical or illogical. It simply is - beyond the "shackles of reason."
Maybe truly being free is the ability to choose your own limitations. And in that sense, Perhaps I am free.
-Psalm 111:2
Its a difficult situation to be in. The space between two spaces. I have started to wonder if this in-limbo-position is precisely where I am supposed to find myself. I think that between two traditions, and I don't mean traditions in the sense that is typically understood, lies the truth. To borrow from MacIntyre, a tradition is a present reality rooted in a past action that is teleological precisely because it has a future. I take this to be the state of mental dispositions that limit and simultaneously de-limit all aspects of action/knowledge rooted in an authorizing power. It's discursive.
It is here that I find myself. In between the in-between. In every sense of the word, I believe myself to be a skeptic. Possibly a mystic as well. God, whose words and actions I ponder in indirect ways, the abstraction of being, I think, presides in this space. This space between traditions acting and partaking in aspects of the two, but also existing precisely in the traditional interaction, this space between two modes of thought.
I call this intercultural spirituality. Please excuse the term. I am aware of the history of colonization that has authorized the present usage of 'culture' or 'civilization' in its exploits, but I use the term for the lack of a better one. Indeed, this 'intercultural spirituality' is a mystical point to be in, but nonetheless, I think this is precisely where I am to be. Moving between and to the limits of discursive knowledge, I find myself skeptical of the types of discourse that authorize our daily thoughts and actions, knowing full well that I am inherently limited. Perhaps in this limitation I am free. Remember, this is neither logical or illogical. It simply is - beyond the "shackles of reason."
Maybe truly being free is the ability to choose your own limitations. And in that sense, Perhaps I am free.
Friday, November 5, 2010
Rescuing myself from cynicism
This update cannot bear the burden of summarizing all of the recent developments in my life since I have last updated. I can confidently say that they have been many and they have been vast, but to that end, I will stop myself from carrying on with the subject.
What I really want to adress is partly vary personal and individual and the same time something I percieve to be very pertinent to the community of people that I would call the Christian community but maybe even on a less parochial scale that of religious communities in general. The article that has encouranged this endeavor is "Studying My Movement: Social Science Without Cynicism" in the Internation Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 40 (2008) by Abdelwahab El-Affindi.
This article, written by a Muslim, is about the ventures of social science into the realm of Middle Eastern studies and the metaphysical/historical/discourse-oriented ramifications of this endeavor with all of its problems and illuminations.
"Having lost their original faith, but not attained a new one, they advocate an agnostic pluralism: let us all drop our claim to the Turth and accept the multiplicity of "truths": let us camp here, over these multiple "planes of activity and praxis," which are "not one topography commanded by a geographical and historical vision."" Here I find myself recalling the work done by Talal Asad and William Connelly, calling into question the underlying themes of modernity and secularism, and hence advocating a paradigmatic pluralism that gives credence to multiple truths. Although, I think that religion was largely the victim of such claims, I am not sure that I disagree, essentially, with this claim. "We are all for pluralism and the self-critical attittude underlying it. I certainly took great careto present my study in such a self-critical mode," says the author of this article. I feel that within the Christian tradition, many have claimed to have a monoply on the truth, a hegemony over interpretation, but few have been willing to be as self-critical as the author has claimed of himself and his own endeavors into the intellectual sphere. While one could attribute this to a feeling of anti-intellectualism current within modern and populist understandings of Christianity and the Christian tradition (and I admit this is largely only applicable to my own understanding in the Western world).
I feel the same pressures in my own faith as the author outlines here. The intellectual/spiritual balance between self-criticism and "rational" logocentric western enlightment ideals as well as that of differring values and systematic approached to understanding life, metaphysics and the like. To be apart of this critical shift is important, but to view this as the author says, "to be apart of this as Muslims."
I agrue the same. To be apart of this world, or as the cliche goes, in this world, we must articulate outselves in a way relevant to recent intellectual endeavours while simultaneously not giving into the hegemony of interpretation, leaving roomn for us to do this as whatever it is that we may be, or ascribe to.
What I really want to adress is partly vary personal and individual and the same time something I percieve to be very pertinent to the community of people that I would call the Christian community but maybe even on a less parochial scale that of religious communities in general. The article that has encouranged this endeavor is "Studying My Movement: Social Science Without Cynicism" in the Internation Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 40 (2008) by Abdelwahab El-Affindi.
This article, written by a Muslim, is about the ventures of social science into the realm of Middle Eastern studies and the metaphysical/historical/discourse-oriented ramifications of this endeavor with all of its problems and illuminations.
"Having lost their original faith, but not attained a new one, they advocate an agnostic pluralism: let us all drop our claim to the Turth and accept the multiplicity of "truths": let us camp here, over these multiple "planes of activity and praxis," which are "not one topography commanded by a geographical and historical vision."" Here I find myself recalling the work done by Talal Asad and William Connelly, calling into question the underlying themes of modernity and secularism, and hence advocating a paradigmatic pluralism that gives credence to multiple truths. Although, I think that religion was largely the victim of such claims, I am not sure that I disagree, essentially, with this claim. "We are all for pluralism and the self-critical attittude underlying it. I certainly took great careto present my study in such a self-critical mode," says the author of this article. I feel that within the Christian tradition, many have claimed to have a monoply on the truth, a hegemony over interpretation, but few have been willing to be as self-critical as the author has claimed of himself and his own endeavors into the intellectual sphere. While one could attribute this to a feeling of anti-intellectualism current within modern and populist understandings of Christianity and the Christian tradition (and I admit this is largely only applicable to my own understanding in the Western world).
I feel the same pressures in my own faith as the author outlines here. The intellectual/spiritual balance between self-criticism and "rational" logocentric western enlightment ideals as well as that of differring values and systematic approached to understanding life, metaphysics and the like. To be apart of this critical shift is important, but to view this as the author says, "to be apart of this as Muslims."
I agrue the same. To be apart of this world, or as the cliche goes, in this world, we must articulate outselves in a way relevant to recent intellectual endeavours while simultaneously not giving into the hegemony of interpretation, leaving roomn for us to do this as whatever it is that we may be, or ascribe to.
Monday, August 23, 2010
I swear to God that he'll surf
Time creeps up on you, as does responsibility. Today my best friend left to go to school in California. A month and a half ago, I was in Lebanon, unaware that this day would be coming. Now I am aware that I am obviously not in Lebanon, nor is he here, but on his way there. My mother summed it up best in her recent text message to me - "Bittersweet :-("
So now the question remains. Why do we allow time to assail us? Why do we acquiesce our lives over to the violent but often wonderful passage of time. Most moments are over before we are cognizant of their being here - I am self aware. And I, too, regret that fact now and more than likely will again soon as my emotional disposition will soon change causing me to evaluate and become aware of what I have lost, gained, and forgotten.
But I do remember as well, and I smile, and I congratulate Ryan on his new future for the next two years. I am nonetheless excited for him as he experiences new things and wakes up in California to a far away but not necessarily distant life.
So now the question remains. Why do we allow time to assail us? Why do we acquiesce our lives over to the violent but often wonderful passage of time. Most moments are over before we are cognizant of their being here - I am self aware. And I, too, regret that fact now and more than likely will again soon as my emotional disposition will soon change causing me to evaluate and become aware of what I have lost, gained, and forgotten.
But I do remember as well, and I smile, and I congratulate Ryan on his new future for the next two years. I am nonetheless excited for him as he experiences new things and wakes up in California to a far away but not necessarily distant life.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Music doesn't treat me like it used to
Its really difficult to articulate the way I feel. At least on most days. I wish everything wasn't so cryptic. Is it possible to master the mind only using the mind? Is it possible to shed this self-awareness in which I move and locate myself and my emotional responses? Everything I feel is paired with an alternative emotion or a more global idea or desire. I think about myself then I think about my culture. I think about agency (do I have any?) and determination. I haven't read enough to know what I feel and if that feeling is worth knowing. Maybe everything I do is justified by an emotional response to that action or question or combination of the two.
What's worth knowing in this world? Is it worth thinking? Is it worth not thinking?
I want to know what that emptiness in my head is the result of, or lack thereof.
"getting a grip on letting go..."
Existence is more complicated that I assumed it would be. I can't blame "them" because they are just as susceptible.
"blithar blithar blithar"
What's worth knowing in this world? Is it worth thinking? Is it worth not thinking?
I want to know what that emptiness in my head is the result of, or lack thereof.
"getting a grip on letting go..."
Existence is more complicated that I assumed it would be. I can't blame "them" because they are just as susceptible.
"blithar blithar blithar"
Monday, August 16, 2010
Rational
I still don't know how to be completely honest with myself on here. This is an internal monologue turned digital and external. I was reading today in a a book about political theories (I cannot recall the title, much to my chagrin) about Vico and Hume. My attention was first turned to Vico through the writings of Isaiah Berlin, so when I saw this chapter I immediately turned to it. When I arrived to the section on Hume, I was particularly interested in Hume's idea about rationality and history. He pits rationality against passion (Kierkegaard?) and says that rational behavior historically is at odds to the passions of man. History and politics are not guided by rational behavior but by the internal burning of the hearts of men, and if this so happens to take the form of rational judgment then this is a rare example. Now I do not know much more about Hume and his philosophical work, but I find that small section particularly noteworthy.
And again.
How do you hear the voice of God? What language does he speak? Are the heavenly realms a whisper in the Cosmos compared to the unbridled power of the words of the Divine? I am convinced that this is jargon, irrational, and extremely important. What power do words hold and to what degree do we surrender ourselves to word and motive? I have no answer. I have no real understanding besides what I have experienced or perceived. Is that enough? What validates my understanding? It may contradict yours and most likely if it has not at this point, it will in the future.
...
We over estimate the rational ability of human beings. I can easily hold two contradicting thoughts in my head and think them not to be at odds. This is existence. How do we reckon with it?
I am starting to think that God speaks. Not in tongues. Not in religious rhetoric. Not in Relevant Christian trends. Its larger than relevancy. It is larger than socio-cultural boundaries. It is larger than religion and religious traditions.
I don't know what this means, to be terribly honest. I don't know what you will think of it and I can't say that I don't care regardless, because I do. I am unsure of the ramifications and logical or illogical conclusions. I am slightly worried that these might be hormonal imbalances. But at the risk of sounding unintelligible and cryptic (this risk is taken and almost guaranteed to have been a loss), I think I hear God (under what guise?).
and it sounds absolutely nothing like they said it would.
And again.
How do you hear the voice of God? What language does he speak? Are the heavenly realms a whisper in the Cosmos compared to the unbridled power of the words of the Divine? I am convinced that this is jargon, irrational, and extremely important. What power do words hold and to what degree do we surrender ourselves to word and motive? I have no answer. I have no real understanding besides what I have experienced or perceived. Is that enough? What validates my understanding? It may contradict yours and most likely if it has not at this point, it will in the future.
...
We over estimate the rational ability of human beings. I can easily hold two contradicting thoughts in my head and think them not to be at odds. This is existence. How do we reckon with it?
I am starting to think that God speaks. Not in tongues. Not in religious rhetoric. Not in Relevant Christian trends. Its larger than relevancy. It is larger than socio-cultural boundaries. It is larger than religion and religious traditions.
I don't know what this means, to be terribly honest. I don't know what you will think of it and I can't say that I don't care regardless, because I do. I am unsure of the ramifications and logical or illogical conclusions. I am slightly worried that these might be hormonal imbalances. But at the risk of sounding unintelligible and cryptic (this risk is taken and almost guaranteed to have been a loss), I think I hear God (under what guise?).
and it sounds absolutely nothing like they said it would.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
There is nothing new under the sun, but today feels different
There is something new for me here. In this place. I know now why monastic orders retreat into the desert and whisper promises over themselves that were originally whispered by something other, something larger, something here but not here, us but not us. This is no contradiction. This is not formal logic. What works logically and formally in an illogical and informal world? I receive both of these. I accept all of it.
Who am I now? Who was I then? Are they not the same person? Am I not the same?
I am both.
Who am I now? Who was I then? Are they not the same person? Am I not the same?
I am both.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
I've never been able to own anything. Not a memory, not a moment in time. When I look at old pictures or a pictures owned by someone else. I am filled with longing. Longing first of all to be filled, second of all to own something, to make something mine, to say I know that and it belongs to me. Now this ownership, its not a normative system of ownership. It has more to do with identity than the actual moment I wish to own. I feel like it is intrinsic to my being to let things go, to give them to others, and to let them have them. At this point is where I start to feel anxious. Anxious about life, about college, about what follows after college. I feel anxious about moments that have yet to even come into existence, because I know when they do I will feel as if I cannot fully experience them.
I want to wake up one day and realize that in that waking, in that drawing in of breath, in that space between drowsiness and awareness - that this my waking, that this is my breath, and this is my day, as well as everyone else's.
I want to wake up one day and realize that in that waking, in that drawing in of breath, in that space between drowsiness and awareness - that this my waking, that this is my breath, and this is my day, as well as everyone else's.
Friday, January 22, 2010
Dilatory
It all felt soft tonight, driving home through the fog. I'm not trying to be allegorical or to evoke some feeling of mystery or awe. It just simply felt soft.
I don't really know what to do most of the time, so I read, or I think about washing my hair. Tonight, I'll probably do neither. Its interesting to know that eyes might read these words, but I think I'd prefer to think not of eyes scrolling a page, or of fingers typing a phrase, but rather nothingness and the something that springs forth from it. Not because it must, but just because it will, and at times, like this, does. Comma Comma Comma.
I haven't slept well the last few nights. I wake frequently and dream vividly. But I feel, well, I don't know what I feel or even what that means. Take it as you will - the meaninglessness and the obvious meaning both are equally as transparent to all who look. If you don't see the paradox, you aren't really looking.
...or you aren't really alive...
both are possible.
Today I held my nephew; tomorrow I'll hold a book.
Ma'salaama
I don't really know what to do most of the time, so I read, or I think about washing my hair. Tonight, I'll probably do neither. Its interesting to know that eyes might read these words, but I think I'd prefer to think not of eyes scrolling a page, or of fingers typing a phrase, but rather nothingness and the something that springs forth from it. Not because it must, but just because it will, and at times, like this, does. Comma Comma Comma.
I haven't slept well the last few nights. I wake frequently and dream vividly. But I feel, well, I don't know what I feel or even what that means. Take it as you will - the meaninglessness and the obvious meaning both are equally as transparent to all who look. If you don't see the paradox, you aren't really looking.
...or you aren't really alive...
both are possible.
Today I held my nephew; tomorrow I'll hold a book.
Ma'salaama
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
"He was up all night thinking about wolves, literally."
"you cannot mirror
long individual strands
taller daily grows"
Bo Orr, on hair.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
"Do not hurry, Do not rest" - Goethe
I will possess your heart. It is a new year, and I am meticulously trying not to write meticulous. I spell out a word and then realize I am alone. I go crazy if I don't let it all just fall out, line by line, like a marching band of ideas, like brothers learning to love each other, like you and me.
Do you ever get so tired of waiting that your only response is to wait? Its been so long since I have heard that familiar hello or "hey girl." Makes little sense doesn't it? The way sometimes what you thought would spill over, barely makes a mess at all. Sometimes I beg myself to just make a mess. Sometimes I simply clean up whatever is before me, messy or not. These are not allegories, and mere metaphors at that. Its not metaphysical or even practical. Not idiosyncratic. Its the sound of fists hitting the punching bag. Its the screech of tires as they unintentionally take a sharp turn. Its the sounds of cigarettes slowly lighting and flickering as the wind blows on your already chilly face, alone, except for whatever enters and controls your mind. Its the absence of you, but the Presence. I know not its whereabouts. As Dillard said, may your tribe increase. If she were here, I'd ask her, "What tribe?" My face is bloodied, my fists tired.
What tribe? I have no direction, I have only maps. Point and Shoot. Tell me where. I'll begin here, but where shall I end up?
Maybe I'll never leave. Maybe I'll just wait.
Would you?
Speak now because its been 400 years. Or maybe two weeks.
Do you ever get so tired of waiting that your only response is to wait? Its been so long since I have heard that familiar hello or "hey girl." Makes little sense doesn't it? The way sometimes what you thought would spill over, barely makes a mess at all. Sometimes I beg myself to just make a mess. Sometimes I simply clean up whatever is before me, messy or not. These are not allegories, and mere metaphors at that. Its not metaphysical or even practical. Not idiosyncratic. Its the sound of fists hitting the punching bag. Its the screech of tires as they unintentionally take a sharp turn. Its the sounds of cigarettes slowly lighting and flickering as the wind blows on your already chilly face, alone, except for whatever enters and controls your mind. Its the absence of you, but the Presence. I know not its whereabouts. As Dillard said, may your tribe increase. If she were here, I'd ask her, "What tribe?" My face is bloodied, my fists tired.
What tribe? I have no direction, I have only maps. Point and Shoot. Tell me where. I'll begin here, but where shall I end up?
Maybe I'll never leave. Maybe I'll just wait.
Would you?
Speak now because its been 400 years. Or maybe two weeks.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Materializing out of infinite thoughts is the world around me, bursting with the very stuff of all creation. Its cold outside. Annie Dillard in her cabin forty years ago wrote about this very thing. A simple longing for an understanding of the complex. And now I have it, in the silence of a new year. In the silent longing of one to hold near. I see your face and it is glowing so brightly, it doesn't surprise me that no one can see you as you walk into the dark.
I'm here secretly stalking muskrats as they run in and out, hiding behind our words and feelings. Do you perceive yourself to be alone. You're alone with the Alone, and yet there, precisely in that spot, we find rest.
I talk to you tomorrow, I am sure.
I'm here secretly stalking muskrats as they run in and out, hiding behind our words and feelings. Do you perceive yourself to be alone. You're alone with the Alone, and yet there, precisely in that spot, we find rest.
I talk to you tomorrow, I am sure.
Monday, December 28, 2009
Why Should I Stay Here?
Every night a new dream. Every day a new thought. Every hour a different feeling. Every second, oh every second, it creeps by slowly; aching to have what is not there. Waiting patiently for nothing. And in nothing, something, everything, you.
I am simply a fool and that will do. Time is the partition wall. It all chains us to some eternity.
Breath deeply, friends. Its all we've got left.
I am simply a fool and that will do. Time is the partition wall. It all chains us to some eternity.
Breath deeply, friends. Its all we've got left.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Dervish Dances
A.
The cosmos' dance, the dead of winter
and I feel it all creep up so slowly,
you sleeping silently there, my thoughts
stalking you sweetly as you dream of being awake.
B.
It was in the night that you first smelled death,
briefly followed by dreams of God. You awoke
with me gently next to you, waking
at
the
very
same
time
.
C.
In infinite verisimilitude, or finite fecundity,
or whatever they all mean, and
you spell them out so eloquently
and silently
like a flower blooming, only to know its three days
until winter,
I saw you there, floating, like God and breath
down, down, down
upon the earth-like surface,
then I saw in your place, lay a pile of dead leaves,
and I knew it wasnt you.
D.
Start, Go, Begin
and then
STOP.
You must sleep now, or your body will never wake.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Ice Age coming, let me hear both sides, let me hear both sides....
This is really happening. He said it.
There is this indescribable feeling of freedom and peace that I receive from driving alone at night to my house. It might have been the conversations that have preceded it or the music in my ears, but both, no matter how loud, we're at minimal volume in relation to my thoughts. decibels rising.
The wastefulness of grace. Freedom in truth. The will of the human heart. The breaking of spirit. The breaking of bread. It is from here that I choose to walk forward. Will you follow? I'll light my cigarette and wait awhile.
If I could capture these feelings in words, it would be trivial. Holding hands was years ago, but these butterflies never dies. Cocoon to full flap back to cocoon. Hibernate for a while and awake when the night is cold. Life is learning the pattern. Rally-route-rally-route-rally-route.
If I die tomorrow, I will at least have lived today. Will you follow?
There is this indescribable feeling of freedom and peace that I receive from driving alone at night to my house. It might have been the conversations that have preceded it or the music in my ears, but both, no matter how loud, we're at minimal volume in relation to my thoughts. decibels rising.
The wastefulness of grace. Freedom in truth. The will of the human heart. The breaking of spirit. The breaking of bread. It is from here that I choose to walk forward. Will you follow? I'll light my cigarette and wait awhile.
If I could capture these feelings in words, it would be trivial. Holding hands was years ago, but these butterflies never dies. Cocoon to full flap back to cocoon. Hibernate for a while and awake when the night is cold. Life is learning the pattern. Rally-route-rally-route-rally-route.
If I die tomorrow, I will at least have lived today. Will you follow?
Saturday, December 19, 2009
"We're still trying to locate us."
A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek - done. Find the gaps and dwell in them.
Where do you go from here? You and me? Everybody. These thoughts make little sense. Watching the divine conspiracy unfold and engulf. Its hard to see where you stand in relation to your feelings, but very rarely your thoughts. I have a lot of thoughts. I have a lot of feelings. So what do you do? You walk into whatever dark room is in front of you and gently whisper, "I'm coming in and if there is something waiting for me then I will face it." Sitting in the dark and waiting. "Sit in this awhile and ponder your place." I'll find that light switch. I'll find it if its the last damn thing I do.
She told me last night that she loves to go to sleep. I hadn't seen her in what must have been years. She told me that she selfishly waited for sleep, begging her to come in dreams. Wherever she is, she is there now, I can't keep beckoning her back. She cant, neither can I, but it seems as if we still want to. I never knew her, the dream-girl, I only knew what they said about her. She never knew her, the-other-girl, and there was no one to talk to about that. It never makes any sense. Always rambling on about some loss that I knew could take place. I choose this. I choose this and I would choose it again. Lay down beside me for awhile, "I never knew anyone could make me feel like this." Who did, sweetheart?
When there isn't much to say and nothing to be found in some foreign fermented substance, you read. Read about nature and stalking, about fecundity...
Decipher if you wish, but I promise no golden truth or treasured thought. A simple feeling perhaps. A small wave to be enjoyed. A innermost calling for the kingdom of another world, here now, not to come, but reigning here with you and with me. All are welcome.
Now its time. I am going to find that light switch and I am going to turn it on.
Where do you go from here? You and me? Everybody. These thoughts make little sense. Watching the divine conspiracy unfold and engulf. Its hard to see where you stand in relation to your feelings, but very rarely your thoughts. I have a lot of thoughts. I have a lot of feelings. So what do you do? You walk into whatever dark room is in front of you and gently whisper, "I'm coming in and if there is something waiting for me then I will face it." Sitting in the dark and waiting. "Sit in this awhile and ponder your place." I'll find that light switch. I'll find it if its the last damn thing I do.
She told me last night that she loves to go to sleep. I hadn't seen her in what must have been years. She told me that she selfishly waited for sleep, begging her to come in dreams. Wherever she is, she is there now, I can't keep beckoning her back. She cant, neither can I, but it seems as if we still want to. I never knew her, the dream-girl, I only knew what they said about her. She never knew her, the-other-girl, and there was no one to talk to about that. It never makes any sense. Always rambling on about some loss that I knew could take place. I choose this. I choose this and I would choose it again. Lay down beside me for awhile, "I never knew anyone could make me feel like this." Who did, sweetheart?
When there isn't much to say and nothing to be found in some foreign fermented substance, you read. Read about nature and stalking, about fecundity...
- the intellectual productivity of a creative imagination
- fertility: the state of being fertile; capable of producing offspring
- fruitfulness: the quality of something that causes or assists healthy growth
Decipher if you wish, but I promise no golden truth or treasured thought. A simple feeling perhaps. A small wave to be enjoyed. A innermost calling for the kingdom of another world, here now, not to come, but reigning here with you and with me. All are welcome.
Now its time. I am going to find that light switch and I am going to turn it on.
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