Already Alone – Norway, October, 2016

Wittgenstein’s Cabin – Skjolden, Norway


Norway, October, 2016


Far from.

As near as I can be, as near as I can tell, I am far.

Far from.  And already alone.

So long I dreamt this cabin, this hovel, this cave.

Some safety, a distance – ‘solitary’ space.


Who ever would I be – were I alone?

What am I – alone?

Where is one – alone?


Silence quickly transforms into noise.  One’s ‘self.’


These window cubes, cut from concrete.

These thick and stony walls.

Such noisy fire.


I am far.

Far from.

So very long – already alone.

And yet I’ve just arrived again.


It is cold.

Often, always, winter.

Sheer, spare, space.

Hardened, austere, edges, boundaries, shapes.

We are separated.  Blocked.  Reaching…

I am.  Here.  Alone.





But not really quite.

Not really quite – all one.

Alone, never seems to actually equal – all-one.

Even though it’s used as stand-in.



I write.

Here in this far-removed, distance-sequestered solitude.


Yet I only AM…

…in relation to.

I am not, not ever, NEVER ‘ALL-ONE,’ ‘AL-ONE,’

‘I’ am all-ways, al-ways, IN-RELATION-TO

in order…to BE…even ONE.  Even singular

demands plurality.

And so forth, and so on…


I…am UN-ABLE to ‘BE’ without an-Other, another,


a note, a chord, a color…

a line, a shape, a term…

some weather


‘Language’ as we’ve come to consider, think, imagine…it…

‘simplified’: NOT ONE BIT W/O THE OTHER.




My youngest son (10 years old) has heard

a strange, elaborate, convoluted and contested myth/story/fiction/fantasy (hypothesis)

about the “Origin of the World”

involving particles, waves, heat, light, sub-sub-sub quantum symbols & movement –

all sorts of scientific (& notably human) inventions

from Professor(s) AZIFF…

“as if”

these might declare, or describe, inscribe or explain

SOMEthing, ANYthing

about…EXISTENCE…EXISTING… (EX-is-tence, EX-is-ting…’out of’)


I heard stories as well (as-if)

that A god (or many) breathed, touched, loved, crashed

SOMEthings, ANYthings into be-ing…

that there ‘likely’ (or MAY HAVE BEEN – according to human conjure)

a “Big Bang”

another Big Daddy of heat…of particles…of waves…of sub-stance…of light…

or MORE,



Wavesparticlessomethinginmotionimplosionsexplosions WORDS



[how might it be ANYthing other than ANYone’s guess, among us, pray tell?  WHO or WHAT might qualify – among US – as arbiters or judges, experts or prophets – and by what measures or standards (or WHOSE?) as each of us species-specifically WE?]




and it alters – it changes – the stories – generation to generation

depending on the rulers, the beliefs, the ‘logics,’ the ‘sciences,’ the ‘mathematics,’

the tools, the techniques…

and it alters…from season to season…

depending on the ‘outlook’ or ‘prognosis,’ ‘fellow-feeling’ or ‘concern,’ – survival needs

Some call Physics, others Philosophy, some Religion, others S.T.E.M. or art or politic or publicsocialpolicy…some Business (nearly all)…das capital

Each and every DIFFERENT time

a ‘this is how it is,’ a ‘this is what we know’

i.e., a ‘THIS WE BELIEVE.”


Our creedal species.

And I…

I say…

Some say…

“No Matter,”

“No Substance,”

“No Essence”



Always a begin – always a play of language (nigh-universal) and power (universal).  PERHAPS –

And so it goes (or so ‘I’ imagine…or ‘so it seems’ to – ‘ME’) and so forth, and so on…

…the playing field remaining species-equal betwixt athlete and artist, philosopher, scientist, politician and doctor, worker and ruler and indigent intelligent…so far as ‘I’ can tell of it…


HERE NOW I.  NOWHERE ME.  Language – experience – meaning – species: HUMAN.

“All the Same?”

Equalists all, at fundament.

Inequalists all, at experience.


“Might”…a PERHAPS…a possibility…a WE (species-specifically): DON’T KNOW.


It is thus I invent and inscribe.



Detract.  Distract.  Distrust.  Conjure.  Conspire.

Attempt a BE-come…becoming…convergence.

Attempting to BE.

And another is able to write “Why the World does not Exist”

And another “Being and Time” and still more “Being and Nothingness” and still more

all kinds of SOMEthings and SOMEones and ANY’s…

with their WORDS.

and mine, and ours, and we


I write.

Far from.

As near as I can be, as near as I can tell, I am far.

Far from.  And already alone.


7 thoughts on “Already Alone – Norway, October, 2016

  1. I loved it dear N Filbert, you take us to a voyage in some of philosophical thoughts. I loved this “al(l) one”
    And how miracle and incredible, while you express that you are far. far from. and already alone, your words reach in another’s world, and suddenly, the distance and solitude disappear… Maybe reading from different way 🙂
    Thank you, Love, nia

  2. and then I stumble across this, from Jon Fosse, in an essay entitled “For the Sun to Rise”:
    “And of course what you think cannot be written down, you can only write what emerges in the writing. And when that is how it is, surely other ways of writing seem dishonest and dirty?…But how can you know such things? You cannot, but those who say they don’t know anything, just imagine many things. It sounds pretty paradoxical, but isn’t truth often paradoxical? At least I like to hear myself write, the way some others like to hear themselves talk. And of course, one’s spirit will never be understood. But then, can’t you just eat and sleep all day? And why do the tears come when I walk home alone at night? Is all this base desire? That I am so small and spineless and at the same time talk about the greatest things? And in the new cottage it is cold and uncomfortable, as if I have bought new clothes and they don’t quite fit me yet. But you must arrange things according to the circumstances. As long as I can sleep. And isn’t the act of writing similar to the act of sleeping? Because don’t you withdraw from the outer world when you sleep, the way you do when you write? For what disturbs your writing, also disturbs your sleep. When you are so fragile, surely you become preoccupied with what others think of you, become conceited? And then you should like to be alone, to try to calm down. And when that’s how it is, can you love others in such an altruistic way that you can hold on to love without you yourself being held down by it? There must be something severe in love…I am so sensitive that almost everything disturbs me and knocks me down, small things that would not affect others. Perhaps I only feel like myself when someone rejects me? I am ridiculous and like to compare myself with the great ones, therefore I must make some sort of good impression on everyone, on the woman at the post office for instance. You have to lie as best you can, because isn’t that when you are telling the truth?…I must breathe calmly, evenly, until there are no more tears. I am not able to write. Please help me God.”

  3. For all the “all-one” and all the “al-one,” I can’t help but think:
    One note is not a song.
    Some notes come together, at once, and create harmony.
    Other notes follow one another like ducklings, and create a melody.
    For all the thought-full-ness, you share, I can’t help but think:
    And what song could be heard when one’s truly alone?

  4. people would come out to the house…drive out from the city and it would be so quiet…you know…sure, birds and wind but not the usual comfortable dissonance. All I could do was feed them. lots of food…like pebbles in their pockets. they’d go away happy. wore me out some but I figured what the hey. To calm down after I’d go out to the young maples and make my own noise singing like a frog. the trees would sway…tone deaf. life’s good…

"A word is a bridge thrown between myself and an other - a territory shared by both" - M. Bakhtin

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