not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Monday, August 20, 2012

investigation of the self, x: the yellow flower

the yellow flower leans toward its reflection
if i can only see myself, it says, perhaps i can know myself 
and the world around me

but where does the real yellow flower exist?

where the real world?


  1. students beginning seminary are asked to consider three questions (or used to be asked...):

    what is real?
    who am i?
    how should i live?

    everything is inside these three questions -- theology, philosophy, science, history, politics, literature, art -- but i suspect the attempt to answer them only pushes the answer farther away ... perhaps we can live in the presence of the questions and take pleasure in their elusiveness :-) ... certainly, very many people think they have found an answer when they see their own reflection shining back at them, but then they miss all the depth of the pond!!

    the pictures are stunning -)))) i go back and forth between loving clarity and loving blur ... of course, there is no reason to choose -- but i continue to desire the back and forth ....

  2. but then ... last night we walked together in the holy place of pines and late sunlight, and i knew that was the real world because i could not see my reflection there ...

    love :-))


  3. for some reason i am caught between simone weil's losing of the self as barrier and making it universal, "This irreducible 'I' which is the irreducible basis of my suffering - I have to make this 'I' universal." and gerard manley hopkins, "What I do is me: for that I came.". either the truth lies inside of both of these explorations, or i am farther from the truth than i could imagine:)

    what i hope (and sense) is that truth must be found between the self and the world. perhaps the self is much like the world in this quote; again, simone weil, "This world is the closed door. It is a barrier. And at the same time it is the way through."

    last night while we walked it was nonnegotiable that the world was real, the pines, the ferns, the animals, the light. we were optional. today after hearing the news from Kenya, 50 women and children slaughtered. slaughtered! in the most vile ways imaginable, i wish we were not real. what violence does the pine, the moose, the bear inflict?



"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))